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THE 



JOURNAL 



SACRED LITERATURE. 



EDITED BY JOHN KITTO, D.D., F.S.A. 



VOLUME IV. 



LONDON: 

SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, <& CO., 
STATIONEBS' HALL COURT. 

OLIVER AND BOYD, EDINBURGH ; AND J. ROBERTSON, 
GRAFTON STREET, DUBLIN. 

1849. 



Digitized by CjOOQ IC 



o*\\ 



London : Printed bj William Clowbi and Som, Stamford Street. 



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THE 

JOURNAL 



SACRED LITERATURE. 



No. VII.-JULY, 184ft. 



THE SCRIPTURAL DOCTRINE OF DEMO- 
NIACAL POSSESSION. 

By William Elfe Taylee* 

The iufluence exercised over mankind by evil spirits is undoubt- 
edly one of the most deeply interesting and practically important 
questions that can occupy the mind of the believer in divine 
revelation. Reasoning a priori, we should certainly have sup- 
posed that the blessed Jehovah would never have given those 
malignant beings any opportunity of introducing and perpetuating 
sin and its long train of evils in this lower wond. rossessed, as 
we know Him to be, of infinite knowledge, wisdom, and power, it 
is natural to infer that the Creator would have taken efiectual 
means to cut off all communication between such powerful adver- 
saries and the human race. Here, however, we have one of the 
most striking instances of the truth of the divine declaration : — 
* My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my 
ways.' From the inspired record we find that to this world, at 
least, 'the devil and his angels' have, from its first creation, 
enjoyed constant and unlimited access ; and so successfully have 
they used their infernal powers, that they have converted what 
was once a paradise of God into what too often appears a pande« 
monium of wickedness and woe. 

One of the most terrible forms in which Satanic agency has 
been witnessed in this lower world is, unquestionabW, that of 

VOL. IV. — NO. VII, B demoniacal 



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2 The Scriptural Doctrine of [July, 

Demoniacal possession. The writings of the New Testament ex- 
pressly declare that evil spirits possess the fearful power of 
entering the bodies of human beings — and of using the control 
over their corporeal organism thus obtained, for the infliction of 
various and protracted tortures. Innumerable instances of men 
and women and children being thus possessed, by one or by many 
unclean spirits, and of their being delivered, through the power of 
our Lord, and of his name, are contained in the Gospels and the 
Acts. Nor is revelation alone in the declaration of these mar- 
vellous facts. The writings of ancient philosophers and historians 
— as well as those of the Fathers of the early Christian Church — 
contain the most decisive and abundant evidence of the fact, that 
malignant spirits of celestial origin exercised the same diabolical 
influence over human beings in their days. 

If we investigate the nature of demoniacal possession, we shall 
be led to view it as consisting in the fact of one or more demons 
having eflTected such a union with the human soul — or at least, 
having acquired such a control over the human organism — as 
placed all the physical powers of the individual at his or their dis- 
posal. Apart from possession^ there is no question that evil spirits 
are capable, in a variety of ways, of inflicting temporal, as well as 
spiritual evil upon mankind. Satan possesses the power of smiting 
men with terrible diseases — and depriving them of worldly pos- 
sessions (Job ii.). By means of his innumerable angels too he 
tempts men to sin — by influencing the outward senses— &u^est- 
ing thoughts to the heart — or casting stumbling-blocks in the way 
(Acts V. -3). But in all these instances the ' spirits of wicked- 
ness ' act upon us from unthout. In the case of demoniacal pos- 
session^ on the contrary, the demon occupies the whole man. 
Actual and irresistible power is exercised over the internal 
organism of the individual All the members of the body, as well 
as the organs of perception and utterance, are under the absolute 
control of the foul spirit. The possessed person is incapable of 
performing any action, however trifling, against the will of the. 
demon ; nor can he restrain himself from any act to which he is 
urged by this foreign power. 

An attempt has been made by Dr. Strauss, in his Lifeof Jesusy 
to overturn the whole doctrine of demoniacal possession by repre- 
senting the theory as involving, in the very nature of the case, an 
actual impossibility. ' Apart from the diflSculties,' says he, 
' which the notion of the existence of a devil and demons entails 
— whatever theory may be held as to the relation between the 
Self-consciousness and the bodily organs — ^it remains absolutely in-, 
conceivable how the union between the two could be so dissolved 
that a foreign self-consciousness could gain an entrance, thrust 

out 



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1849.] Demoniacal Possession, 3 

out that which belonged to the organism and usurp its place.' • 
The error of this leader of the mythic school consists in supposing 
that in demoniacal possession tihere was necessarily inyolved a 
dissolution of the union subsisting between the self-consciousness 
and the bodily organs of the individual. We do not at all sup- 
pose that such was the actual case. It is perfectly true that a 
foreign self-consciousness gained an entrance into the demoniac, 
and acquired entire control over his organism. But it accom- 

?»lished this simply by its superior power — ^not by displacing the 
brmer consciousness. It is as if a powerful man were to seize 
the helm of a ship guided by the weak arm of a youth, and steer 
the vessel whither he chose, in spite of the feeble opposition which 
the latter might exert. The objection therefore falls to the ground, 
being founded altogether on a mistaken view of the real nature of 
possession. For there is clearly nothing inconceivable in the idea 
of a superior spirit obtaining such an influence over another in- 
ferior one as to control all its actions. 

It is well known that the Gospel history represents human 
beings as possessed, occasionally, not merely by one, but by many 
demons. The case of Mary Magdalene will at once occur to the 
reader, out of whom it is said ' seven devils went.' The Gada- 
rene demoniac also is represented as being tormented by a whole 
legion of devils (Luke viii. 30). Dr. Strauss positively pronounces 
this inconceivable. ' For as,' says he, ' possession means no- 
thing else than that the demon constitutes himself the object of 
the consciousness, and as consciousness can in reality have but one 
focus, one central point ; it is under every condition inconceivable 
that several demons should at the same time take possession of 



one man. 



'b 



This objection, like the last, arises from that erroneous notion 
of what constitutes possession, to which we have already referred. 
It is not true that m the demoniac the evil spirit constitutes him- 
self the subject of the consciouffliess. Were this the case, all the 
torment and suffering inflicted on the wretched victim would be 
experienced by the demon himself. As already stated, to consti- 
tute possession it is only required that the demon should so unite 
himself to the soul of the individual, or obtain such an influence 
over his internal organism, as to be able to control all the active 
and passive powers of the body. Hence there is no more diffi- 
culty in conceiving that a hundred or even a thousand evil spirits 
had obtained such an iixfluence over an individual, than that only 
one had. It is as easy to suppose that a number of unclean spirits 
possessed a man, as to imagine that several powerful persons had 

^ Leben JesUy it. ix. § 92. ^ Lehen Jesu, ii. ix. § 93. 

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4 The Scriptural Doctrine of [July, 

seized a youth and compelled him to act in obedience to their 
will. 

In almost all the instances of demoniacs recorded in the Gospels 
and Acts — the mere fact of their being possessed with demons — 
is stated. In two or three cases, on tne conU'ary, the full parti- 
culars are given ; and if from these we are to judge of the others, 
* to be vexed with a devil' is indeed the most terrible temporal in- 
fliction under which humanity has ever groaned. In the case of the 
Gadarene — or Gadarenes, according to Matthew — ^the possessmg 
demons manifested their power in a form resembling raving mad- 
ness. The demoniac was kept bound with chains and fetters ; but 
^uch was the strength of the legion of devils which had entered 
him, that these bonds were snapped asunder like tow — and the 
wretched victim of infernal malice was hurried far away from the 
haunts of men, to dwell, like a beast, in the mountains and 
tombs, his clothes torn from his back, and engaged in cutting his 
own flesh with sharp stones. 

Another mode adopted by these * spirits of wickedness,' in which 
to wreak their malice upon their helpless and unofiending victims, 
resembled epilepsy, in the case of the demoniac whom the dis- 
ciples were unable to cure (Mark ix. 14), all at once the unhappy 
youth was seized by the demon — his limbs convulsed by irresistible 
power in the most fearful manner, and his whole frame so racked 
with torture, that, wallowing on the ground, he foamed at the 
mouth, and gnashed with his teeth, under its influence. At an- 
other time 'the unclean spirit' would embrace the opportunity of 
casting him into the fire, or into the water, in order to destroy 
him. To complete the list of evils, he was cut ofi^ from all means 
of communication with the outer world ; for it is expressly stated 
by Luke that * he was deaf and dumb.' 

These cases of demoniacal possession — and we have no reason to 
suppose that they differ substantially from the other cases more 
briefly noticed — do really display such infernal malice, such 
genmne delight in inflicting torment and sufiering upon mankind, 
as to present the character of these fallen angels in a more re- 
volting light than anything else in their history. There is some- 
thing so loathsome and disgusting in the idea of spiritual intel- 
ligences possessing helpless and unofiending mortals for the sole 
purpose of deriving gratification and pleasure from torturing their 
bodies and their minds in every possible way that we are dis- 
posed to attribute to this the circumstance that demons who 
possessed human beings are almost always termed ' unclean ' or 
impure spirits, dxdQapra irvivfxara^ by our Lord. The general 
epithet by which the fallen angels are described elsewhere is 
wicked, growj^or. In nearly every case, however, referring to 

possession^ 



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1849.] Demoniacal Possession. 5 

possession^ the indwelling demon is termed unclean spirit^ unclean 
demon. May not the reason of this change of expression be to 
intimate either that the devils who delight m this employment are 
more loathsome, more spiritually foul than the rest ; or that in 
this infernal agency they display a more rile and disgusting 
feature of character tlum in other acts of iniquity ? 

A mistake, common to all the commentators — whether Ra- 
tionalists or Orthodox — ^which we hare consulted on this subject, 
is that of regarding demoniacs as the subjects of actual disease* 
A more close exammation, however, of the narratives contained in 
the Gospels will lead to the conclusion, that in no instance does 
disease, in the strict and proper sense of the term, form any part 
or effect of possession* AH the symptoms of demoniacal disease 
with winch we meet in the New Testament — if we omit defects of 
the senses — may be reduced to two, madness and epilepsy ; and 
it requures little sagacity to see that these phenomena are precisely 
such as would result from demoniacal possession, as described in 
the Gospels — and, therefore, cannot with justice be attributed to 
the operation of disease, llie agency of the evil spirit, according 
to the particular mode in which he chose to act upon the possessed 
person, would present in one case all the symptoms of epilepsy, in 
another those of insanity. If, for example, tne demon suddenly 
seized his victim, deprived him of all power over his limbs, 
prostrated him upon the ground, and convulsed his whole frame 
with inward torture, we should here behold all the symptoms of a 
violent epileptic fit. If, on the other band, the unclean spirit, by 
means of that absolute control over the body of the demoniac 
which he possessed, instigated him to extravagant, mmatural, or 
violent conduct, we should discern in this case all the common in- 
dications of insanity. But surely no one would be justified in 
speaking of disease as existing in either case, since that term 
always implies the operation of some physical cause on the human 
organization to which all the phenomena are owing. As well 
might we employ the term vitality^ in order to denote the con- 
vulsive action of the limbs of a corpse whilst exposed to the 
influence of galvanism. With reference to defects of the per- 
ceptive faculties and organs of speech so frequently occurring in 
demoniacal subjects, we should be inclined to regard these as the 
result of immediate control exercised by the demon over the par- 
ticular nerves or muscles, rather than any organic derangement. 
And the Scripture narratives of the expulsion of what are termed 
^ deaf and dumb spirits ^ confirm this opinion, for we read that 
* when the devil was gone out the dumb spake,' which seems to 
intimate that all which occasioned dumbness was the influence 
exerted over the organs of speech by the evil spirit. 

The 



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6 The Scriptural Doctrine of [July, 

The apparent diseases of demoniacs, then, are obviously nothing 
more than certain effects produced upon the organism by the 
agency of the indwelling demon, in opposition to any derangement 
of the system arising from physical causes. And this explains a 
circumstance otherwise unaccountable, that fever, leprosy, palsy, 
and a number of other diseases, clearly arising from a disordered 
state of the functions or other natural causes, are never met with 
in demoniacs. There is clearly no connection between the entrance 
of a demon into the body and an impure state of a fluid. And 
whilst the Scripture affords decisive evidence, as we have already 
seen, that the devil possesses the power of inflicting diseases, it is, 
we conceive, of the utmost importance that such agency should be 
kept perfectly distinct from demoniacal possession. Unless this 
be done, we shall involve the subject in the greatest confusion. 

The fact of actual bodily possession by demons (termed Sai/xovi- 
i^sffOai, e%siy Satjutoviov) is SO distinctly and repeatedly asserted by 
our Lord and the Evangelists, that it is extraordinary how biblical 
commentators can attempt to explain it away. There can be no 
doubt, however, that an unwillingness to admit supernatural 
agency is the real cause why the notion that the demoniacs of 
the Gospel were merely persons afflicted with certain diseases, 
prevails so extensively amongst learned men, both in Germany 
and in this country. The mode in which the opponents of the 
doctrine of real possession seek to evade all that is conclusive in 
the language of Christ and the Evangelists is by resolving it into 
a mere tisus loquendi^ or adaptation to the popular mode of speak- 
ing. ' There can be no doubt,' say they, ' that it was the general 
belief of the Jewish nation, except the Sadducees, that demons 
did possess human beings at that time ; but the fact and real state 
of the case was, that the whole phenomena were caused by diseases, 
and that Jesus and his Apostles were imder the necesaty of ex- 
pressing themselves in popular language, and of seeming to admits 
or at least not of denpng, its correctness.' Such is the argument 
employed by a writer in the Cyclopcedia of Biblical Literature^ who 
adopts that side of the question.*' It is not, however, stating the case 
fairly, we think, to say that ' Jesus and his Apostles seemed to admit, 
or at least did not deny,' that demons possessed men in those days- 
These expressions are altogether inconsistent with the acknow- 
ledged fact, that the circumstance of an evil spirit having entered 
into a human being is stated or implied in the New Testament 
in almost every conceivable form of expression. Demons are 
described as entering into men, tormenting and injuring them in 
various ways; and of coming out of them at the command of 

<= Article * Demoniacs/ 

Christ 



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1849.] Demoniacal Possessiwi. 7 

Christ and his Apostles. They are represented by Matthew, 
Mark, and Luke, as speaking and performing Tarious acts through 
the instrumentality of those whom they possessed. Christ too 
often addresses them, converses with them, and forbids .them to 
make him known (Mark i. 34, marg.). Besides which, it is im- 
pctt'tant to notice that our Lord, in his private conversations with 
his disciples, not only omits to make any remark calculated to 
undermine the notion of demoniacal possession, but, on the con- 
trary, speaks repeatedly on a supposition of its truth. In giving 
commission to the Twelve, for example, our Lord is said to have 
bestowed on them power against unclean spirits to cast them aui 
(Matt. X. 1). When the Seventy returned to Him and said. 
*• Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy ns^me ; 
His answer was, ' I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven ' 
(Luke X. 18). Lastly, when the disciples, unable to dispossess the 
young man, described by his father as a lunatic, inquired of our 
Lord the reason in private. He told them it was ^ because of their 
unbelief,' . . .^ and added, ^ this kind goeth not out but by prayer 
and fasting ' \Matt xvii. 20). Surely all this is widely different 
from ^ seeming to admit, or at least not denying, the correctness ' 
of the popular notion. 

Another important fact in connection with this subject is, that 
the writers of the New Testament, in many passages, distinguish 
between diseased persons and demoniacs. Mark informs us, for 
example, that ' at even when the sun did set they brought Him all 
that were diseased, and them that were possessed with devils^ 
(ch. 1. 32). Luke, too, speaks of ' a great multitude who came to 
hear Him, and to be healed of their diseases,' and then adds, ^and 
they that tvere vexed with unclean spirits ' (ch. vi. 18). And our 
Lord in the commission which He gave to the Apostles after His 
resurrection says, ' These signs shall follow them that believe ; in 
My name shall they cast out devils, they shall speak with new 
tongues, they shall take up serpents, and if they drink any deadly 
thing it shall not hurt them : they shall lay hands an the sick^ and 
they shall recover' (Mark xvi. 17, 18). These and similar 
passages in the Gospels appear certainly to favour the notion 
that demoniacs were altogether distinct from diseased persons. 
But what establishes the fact beyond all doubt, we conceive, is the 
different mode of treatment employed in the two cases. The sick 
were healed by the imposition of hands and anointing of oil. The 
possessed were simply exorcised in the name of Jesus. Hence 
it is stated of the Seventy, *They cast out many devils, and 
anointed with oil many that were sicV (Mark vi. 13). So in the 
passage just quoted, * In My name shall they cast out devils, • . , 
they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover' 

(Mark 



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8 Tlie Scriptural Doctrine of [July, 

(Mark xvi. 17). And it.will be remembered that James directs 
the same treatment^to be employed in case of sickness-r-' Is any 
sick among you, let him call for the elders of the church, and let 
them priqr over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the 
Lord' (James v. 14). It is quite evident, then, that diseased persons 
were treated in a manner altogether different from demoniacs, and 
this too by the special command of Christ himself. How can this 
be accounted for ? The only possible explanation which is satis- 
factory, appears to us to be, that the one were diseased, the other 
were not. The one were afflicted with natural disorders .of the 
body, the other were vexed with unclean spirits. A broad and 
palpable distinction, such as this, would evidently afford ground 
for a. different treatment of the two classes. And, therefore, when 
our Lord instructed his disciples to ' lay hands on the sick, and 
they should recover ;' He also ' gave them power over unclean 
spirits,' and without this gift demoniacs would still have been 
placed beyond their reach. 

We proceed to state that the superhuman knowledge displayed 
by the demoniacs of the New Testament affords conclusive evi- 
dence of the reality of demoniacal possessions. In many of the 
cases recorded by the Evangelists, these wretched subjects of in- 
fernal malice bear the most striking and powerfiil testimony to the 
person and work of Jesus. The demoniac in the synagogue at 
Capernaum is represented as exclaiming, ' I know thee who thou 
art : the Holy One of God' (Mark i. 24). Similarly, the Gada- 
rene demoniac is said to have addressed Jesus : ' What have I to 
do with thee, Jesus, tJum Son of God most High ?' In reply to 
the argument afforded by these and similar passages, the writer of 
the article in Kitto's Cyclopcedia says, ' It cannot be proved iliat 
all the demoniacs knew Jesus to be the Messiah.' ^ut what is 
the real state of the case ? If we pass by those instances in which 
the evil spirit is expressly said to be dumb, we shall find that every 
circumstantial narrative of the healing of a demoniac mentions the 
testimony borne by the demon to the person of the Son of God, 
except the single one of the Syrophenician's daughter, which, being 
performed at a distance, quite precluded such a manifestation. 
With this solitary exception, there is not one instance of an interview 
between our Lord and a demoniac, being circumstantially related, 
in which this reco^ition of his character does not form a promi- 
nent feature. Besides which, in some of the summary notices of 
our Lord's ministry, which contain a reference to the cure of pos- 
sessed persons, the same fact is stated. For example, Mark, after 
stating that Christ had healed many persons of their diseases, adds, 
* and unclean spirits, when they saw him, fell down before him, 
and cried, saying, Thou art the Son of God. And he straitly 

charged 



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1849.J Demoniacal Possession. * 9 

charged them that they should not make him known' (ch. iii. 12). 
In another place the same Evangelist records that our Lord ^ cast 
out many devils, and suffered not the devils to speak hecause they 
knew him ' (ch. i. 34). The presumption therefore clearly is, that 
this marvellous recognition of the Messiah hy demoniacs always 
occurred, since the only cases where it is not mentioned are certain 
general notices, ivhich could not be expected to include every par- 
ticular. In the Acts of the Apostles, too, in the few instances of 
demoniacal possession which are circumstantially related, we find 
the same marvellous discernment of character. When Paul and 
Silas were at Philippi, ' a certain damsel possessed with a spirit of 
divination (of Apollo — in^v\ML Ili/Owvof) met them and followed 
them, and cried, saying, lliese men are the servants of the Most 
High God, who shew unto us the way of salvation ; and this she 
did many days ' (ch. xvi. 16, 17). During the same apostle's stay 
at Corinth he cast out evil spirits from possessed persons ; and 
* then certain of the vagabond Jews, exorcists, took upon them to 
call over them whidi had evil spirits the name of the Lord Jesus, 
saying, We adjure you by Jesus whom Paul preacheth. And there 
were seven sons of one Sceva, a Jew, and chief of the priests, which 
did so. And the evil spirit answered and said, Jesus I know, and 
Paul I know ; but who are ye ? And the man in whom the evil 
spirit was leaped on them and overcame them, and prevailed 
against them, so that they fled out of that house naked and 
wounded' (Acts xix. 13-16). 

With these facts before us, it is impossible to suppose that the 
demoniacs of the New Testament were mere lunatics and madmen, 
because the notion that such persons possessed clearer views of the 
character of Christ than the rest of mankind is altogether too 
extravagant to be entertained. It is quite certain that the Jews 
were very far from believing that he was the Messiah — ^much less 
that he was the Son of God. When our Lord inquired of his 
disciples, at an advanced period of his ministry, ' Whom do men 
say that I the Son of Man am ?' they informed him, ' Some say 
that thou art John the Baptist ; some Elias ; and others Jeremias, 
or one of the prophets.' And as to the disciples themselves, 
although Jesus was con^dered as the Christ from the very first 
(John 1. 42), yet it was only after continued intercourse with him 
and by the revelation of the Father that they regarded him as the 
Son of God, Hence when Peter, in the place just referred to, 
said to Jesus, ' Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God,' 
the answer of our Lord was, ' Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona : 
for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father 
which is in heaven' (v. 16, 17). How then can we possibly 
account for the fact that the demoniacs possessed this knowledge 

of 



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10 Tlie Scriptural Doctrine of [July, 

of Christ from the very commencement of his ministry (Mark i. 
24 and 34), on the supposition that they were simply diseased 
persons, and especially maniacs ? That evil spirits should recog- 
nise the person of him who was to pass sentence upon them at the 
last day, is only what we might expect ; but that persons whose 
intellects were affected, or whose bodies were convulsed, should 
stand out from the rest of the Jews on account of the remarkable 
knowledge which they possessed respecting the person and work 
of Christ is altogether inconceivable. Nor is the case materially 
altered even if we grant that not all the demoniacs knew Christ to 
be the Messiah ; fc^r the difficulty connected with the fact that so 
large a number of insane and otherwise diseased persons as still 
remain, agreed in bearing such a testimony to the Saviour when 
he was unknown to the rest of the Jews, is clearly insur- 
mountable. 

We alluded in a foregoing page to the testimony of the Gada- 
rene demoniac to the divimty of Christ ; but the narrative of the 
healing of this unhappy individual is so beset with difficulties, as 
viewed by Rationalists, as to demand a separate consideration. 
According to the narrative given by Luke, this individual, who 
' always night and day was in the tombs,' ' when he saw Jesus 
cried out and fell down before him, and with a loud voice said. 
What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of God most High ? 
I beseech thee torment me not' (Luke viii. 28). Now, on the 
supposition that this is the language of a mere maniac, it is alto- 
gether inconceivable what could be the meaning of his entreaty 
that Christ would not torment him. According to the explanation 
given by Rationalists, the language refers to the cruel treatment 
of the insane in those times, in which he had no doubt shared, in 
the attempts of men to tame them. But such an opinion is 
altogether inconsistent with the statement made by these same 
writers, that the demoniac came to Jesus because he had heard of 
his fame, and wished to be healed. It is quite impossible that the 
same individual should seek relief from Christ, and at the same 
time deprecate any interference with his case, and passionately 
supplicate for mercy. Some of the German writers have employed 
the following ingenious supposition, by way of explaining the 
difficulty : — They suggest that the demoniac set off to meet Christ 
in a lucid moment, but being heated by running, or excited by the 
words of Jesus, fell into a paroxysm, in which, assuming the cha- 
racter of a demon, he entreated that the expulsion should be 
deferred.^ But, as Strauss has well observed, the closely conse- 
cutive narrative of the Evangelist is obviously inconsistent with 

•* Naturlicke Geschichte, ii. 147 ; Paulus, Ex eg. Hand,, i. 473; apud Stranss. 

the 



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1849.] Demoniacal Possession. 11 

the idea of any change having taken place in the man's mind : 

* Seeing — he ran — and worshipped — and cried — and saidJ 

The Evangelist Matthew, in his narrative of the transaction, 
inserts an expression which the other two have omitted : ' Art thou 
come hither to torment us before the time f (wpb xai^oD). Still 
further difficulty is encountered in explaining this. How is it 
possible to understand this, on the supposition that it is a mere 
madman ? Those commentators who will acknowledge no spi- 
ritual agency here, are quite unable to give any explanation of the 
matter. Some of the ablest works on the side of the Rationalists 
carefully avoid all reference to the difficulty. In fact, it must be 
confessed altogether impossible to attach any meaning to the 
expression ' before the time,' if we regard the Gadarene demoniac 
as simply a human being suflFering from insanity. 

On the other hand, if we admit, according to the literal state- 
ment of the inspired writer, that this was the language of one of 
the possessing demons whose name was Legion, all is plain and 
in harmony with the whole tenour of Scripture. It is the ac- 
knowledgment on the part of those apostate spirits of the most 
terrible feet in their history, that there is a time coming when 
their protracted rebellion shall be crushed, and they shall receive 
at length the doom which their unparalleled crimes have incurred. 
The Apostle Peter says that ' the angels who kept not their first 
estate are reserved in cnains .... unto the judgment of the great day ' 
(2 Pet. ii. 4). Our Lord too speaks of ' the fire prepared for the 
devil and his angels' (Matt, xxv.) ; and the apostle, in one of 
those visions of futurity which were presented to his view in the 
isle of Patmos, beheld ' the devil cast into the lake of fire, to be 
tormented for ever and ever ' (Rev. xx. 10). How natural, then, 
that beings from whose minds the fearful anticipation of such a 
punishment is never long absent, should, when suddenly confronted 
with their judge, thus expostulate with him for interfering with 
them before the appointed time ! In perfect accordance with this 
exposition is the subsequent statement of the Evangelist Luke : 

* And they besought him that he would not command them to go 
out unto the deep' (viii. 31). The word rendered cfoep by our 
translators in this passage is a&vaaos, which does not take this 
meaning. It occurs only in Rom. x. 7, and in the Revelation 
(ix. 1, 2, 11 ; xi. 7 ; xvii. 8 ; xx. 1, 3), and invariably denotes 
tJie bottomless pit — the place of torment — hell. The request was 
therefore equivalent to that in the previous verse, ' I beseech thee 
torment me not.' The phraseology in Mark's narrative is different : 
' And he besought him much that he would not send them away 
out of the coimtry.' The word rendered country is xolrqa, region ; 
which is probably used in reference to a fact which appears to be 

implied 



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12 The Scriptural Doctrine of [July, 

implied in other parts of Scripture, that both good and evil angels 
have certain regions assigned to them (see E)an. x. 13, 20). If 
this be the fact, it is most probable that being driven away from 
the region assigned to an evil spirit would be identical with being 
sent into the bottomless pit. In this case the apparently diverse 
statements between the Evangelists would perfectly harmonise. 

The principal difficulty connected with the history of the Gada- 
rene demoniac remains to be noticed, — the passage of the demons 
into the herd of swine, and the consequent results. The following 
is the narrative of Mark, with whom Matthew and Luke substan- 
tially agree : — ' Now there was there nigh unto the mountains a 
great herd of swine feedins. And all tne devils besought him, 
saying. Send us into the swme, that we may enter into them. And 
forthwith Jesus gave them leave. And the unclean spirits went 
out and entered into the swine. And the herd ran violently down 
a steep place into the sea (they were about two thousand) and 
were choked in the sea' (ch. v. 11-13). In this remarkable nar- 
rative, it is manifest at the first glance that every attempt to 
explain the particulars by referring to the usus loquendi must 
altogether fau. It was no part of the popular belief that demons 
ever possessed brutes. Besides, the efiect produced upon the 
swine proves incontestably that the expelled demons had a real 
existence, and were not the mere chimeras of the imagination 
which some would have them to be. Endless have been the 
attempts of biblical scholars to explain the occurrence without 
having recourse to supernatural agency. All of them, however, 
agree in this, that they are utterly irreconcilable with the plain 
language of the narrative. With some the destruction of the 
swine was a mere accident, for which no cause can be assigned. 
With others, it was the demoniacs themselves who rushed upon 
the swine and frightened them into the sea.® In short, the passage 
lias been tortured in every possible way in order to make it square 
with the preju(fices of those who are resolved to acknowledge no 
spiritual agency in such matters. The plain, self-evident de- 
claration of the three Evangelists, however, can never be made to 
assume any other sense than the one generally assigned to it, — the 
transition of the legion of demons into the swine, and the destruc- 
tion of the animals by their agency in the sea : — * And the unclean 
spirits went out and entered into the swine ; and the herd ran vio- 
lently down a steep place into the sea, and were choked in the 
sea.' 

On the other hand, if we understand the narrative literally, the 
circumstances referred to admit of an easy explanation. To those 

« Paulus, Fritzsche in Matt., § 330. 

who 



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1849.] Demoniacal Possession. 13 

who believe, according to the Scripture, that Satan deceived our 
first parents by entering into the body of a serpent, it will seem 
no difficult matter for a kffion of demons — whatever may be the 
precise number denoted by that term— to enter into two thousand 
swine. Dr. Strauss, in his celebrated Life ofJesus, asks, * What 
did the demons gain by entering into the animals, if they imme- 
diately destroyed the bodies of which they had taken possession ; 
and thus robbed themselves of the temporary abode which they 
had so earnestly entreated ?' This objection, however, proceeds 
upon an erroneous idea of the motives of the demons in entering 
tne swine. The fact is, tliey only desired to do this as a means to 
an end. In obtaining permission to enter the swine was involved 
what they so earnestly aeared — not to be sent into the bottomless pit. 
And in immediately destroying their temporary habitation, they 
accomplished two objects : first, they set tnemselves free to enter 
whatever human beings it might be in their power to possess ; 
and also restrained the power of our Lord in his ministry of good, 
by prejudicing the minds of the people against him. The htter 
object we know was accomplished : for ' the whole multitude of 
the Gadarenes besought him to depart fr^m them ; for they were 
taken with great fear.' 

An attempt has been made to undermine the whole doctrine of 
demoniacal possession, by denying that the term demon (Sai/uioviov, 
JaipKwv) refers in the Scripture to the fallen angels. Accor^g to 
Farmer, the word is never applied -to Satan and his host, but to 
the souls or spirits of dead men, who were the principal objects of 
worship by the heathen. The Seventy use the word in the same 
sense as did the Jews universally in the time of Christ. Hence, 
to suppose that Christ and his Apostles would use the term in any 
other sense, would be to cast on them a foul reproach, and charge 
them with guilt of the deepest dye. And, therefore, inasmuch as 
these souls of dead men could not be present in the world, they 
could not possess any person, and the whole doctrine of possession 
falls to the ground.' This opinion has been followed by most of the 
German commentators, and also by the writer of the article Demon 
in the Cyclopcedia of Biblical Literature. The latter says, * It is fre- 
quently supposed that the demons of the New Testament are fallen 
angels ; on the contrary, it is maintained by Farmer that the word 
is never applied to the devil and his angels, and that there is no 
sufficient reason for restricting the term to spirits of a higher 
order than mankind. It is but fair and natural to suppose that 
the writers of the New Testament use the word demons in the • 
same sense in which it was used by their contemporaries, which, 

' Farmer on Demoniacs^ p. 43. 

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14 The Scriptural Doctrine of [ J^^y* 

as it appears from Josephus and other authorities, was that of the 
spirits of the wicked ; and that if these writers had meant anything 
else, they would have given notice of so wide a deviation from 
popular usage. The writings of the Fathers show that they some- 
times understood demons to be fallen angels ; at other times they 
use the word in the same sense as the ancient philosophers. Justin 
Martyr affirms " those persons who are seized and thrown down 
by the souls of the deceased are such as all men agree in calling 
demoniacs or mad." ' ^ 

In noticing this objection, which, it is evident, strikes at the 
very root of the doctrine of real possession, we shall first attempt 
to show that the term demons (or devils, as rendered in our 
Version) does denote the devil and his angels ; and then examine 
into the meaning of the word as used by contemporary writers 
and Fathers of the church. As to the first point, that our Lord 
and the Jews in general, except the Sadducees, understood by the 
term demons those wicked spirits ' who kept not their first estate,' 
is capable of the clearest proof firom a conversation between our 
Lord and the Scribes on the occasion of the healing of a demoniac. 
It is thus recorded by Mark — ' And the scribes which came down 
from Jerusalem said, " He hath Beelzebub, and by the prince of 
the devils casteth he out devils ;" and he calleth them unto him 
and said unto them in parables, " How can Satan cast out Satan ? 
And if a kingdom be divided against itself, that kingdom cannot 
stand. And if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot 
stand. And if Satan rise up against himself, and be divided, he 
cannot stand, but hath an end." ' Now, it is admitted, we believe, 
by all, that in this passage Satan (o Saravaf) and the devil are the 
same ; and Satan is spoken of as identical with Beelzebub, the 
prince of the demons. Hence, in the opinion of the Jews, as well 
as our Lord himself, the devil was the prince of those demons 
who possessed men, and who are, accordingly, in other passages 
represented as his angels (see Matt. xxv. 41, and Rev. xii. 7). 

We cannot but regard this as a complete demonstration of the 
fact, that the term demons in the Scriptures refers to the fallen 
angels. A trivial objection has indeed been made to the argu- 
ment. It has been said tliat if it proves anything it also proves 
that the word Satan is equivalent to Sai/x6viov. But it should be 
remembered that there is an absolute necessity for assigning a 
figurative import to the word in this case. In the very nature of 
things, it is quite impossible lor any being literally to contend 
against himself. The only way in which the language Satan rise 
up against Satan can be understood is, by regarding the term, 

8 Apoll. i. ii» p. 65. Cyclopcedia of Biblical Literature, art. * Demon.' 

Satan 



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1849.] Demoniacal Possession, 15 

Satan in the latter instance as figurative, and significant of the 
power, government, or cause of the great adversary of man. 

The assertion that the word demon was used by contemporary 
writers to denote the spirits of dead men is wholly unsupported 
by proof. The only writer whose authority can be adduced in 
support of this statement is Josephus, who certainly does say that 
' demons are no other than the souls of wicked men, that enter 
into men and destroy them.' ^ But it is well known that Josephus 
received his education in the schools of the Grecian philosophers, 
hence it is impossible to know whether, in this statement, he is 
expressing the opinion of demoniacal possession which prevailed 
amongst die Greeks, or that which was current in Palestine. 

The writings of the Fathers are also referred to as afibrding 
evidence that the words Sai/utoviov and ^«i/xft'» were used in the 
sense of the souls of the deceased. This proof too is equally 
destitute of real ground. The only Father whose authority can 
be produced on this side the question is Justin Martyr. This 
writer, in one passage of his Apology, has used the term in the 
alleged sense. It is as follows : — ' Those persons who are seized 
and thrown down by the souls of the deceased are such as all 
men agree in calling demoniacs or mad.'^ But this ojanion 
can scarcely be said to be Justin's own, for he is here labouring 
to convince the heathens of the immortality of the soul firom their 
own acknowledged sentiments. Besides which, he uses the word 
repeatedly elsewhere in the Scriptural sense, to denote the fallen 
angels. In his dialogue with Trypho, the Jew, for mstance, when 
attempting to prove the existence of apostate angels, he quotes 
the ninety-sixth Psalm, on o\ deo/ rSiv eBvwv S«tptov<a elcnv ' — the 
ffods qf the heathen are demons. And in his Cohort, ad Grcecos^ 
speaking of the devil who deceived our first parents, he calls him 
o fjLKjoivBpoi^of ^atlfjMv — the man-hatinff demon. We certainly cannot 
look upon Justin Martyr, then, as a witness that iatfAoviov^ iaifxtuvy 
denoted the souls of the deceased, especially as his pupil Tatian 
expressly asserts the contrary. In his Orat, cont. Grcsc^ he says, 
^aiiAoves Sg oi roTs av^pu/itots ii[i*rirr<nTBs ova slaiv at rm a^^qwireav 
A^vxal — * The demons who govern men are not the souls of men.' 
In a previous passage, too, he asserts of demons that they were 
EK? X-wToi rvis Iv oupav^ Si^iToij' 7e«y6vw/A6vo* — cast out from the hea- 
venly conversation. Theophilus of Antioch, too, calls him who 
tempted Eve ' the evil-working demon (Sai/wA^y), who is also called 
Satan.'^ And Tertullian, in the same century, speaks of demons as 
the authors of the fall of man.™ Very many other proofe to the 

^ De Bell. Jud. ' Apol. i. ii. p. 65. ^ Ad Autolyc; ii. 104. 

*" See his Apol. adv, Gent., at the beginning of ch. xxiii. 

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16 The Scriptural Doctrine of [July* 

same effect, from the writings of the Fathers of the second, third, 
and fourth centuries, might be adduced. But the above authorities 
will be considered sufficient to set against the quotation from 
Justin — ^the only one whiqh all the industry and research of the 
German and English biblical scholars have been able to discover 
in the voluminous writings of the Fathers, and that too a state- 
ment which can hardly be said to express his own views on the 
subject — in proof of the fact that the word demon was used by the 
Fathers of the Church universally in the sense riot of the souls of 
departed men, but of ' the angels who kept not their first estate/ 

It is also objected by Farmer, and generally by those who adopt 
his views at home and abroad, that ' the representations of the 
confinement o{ the fallen angels are totally opposed to the notion of 
their wandering about the world and tormenting its inhabitants.'" 
The writer then refers to 2 Pet. iL 4, and Jude 6. This, we 
confess, appears to us very strange ; for whatever difficulties we 
may find in our attempts to explain the precise mode in which 
wicked angels operate upon men, that the devil originally tempted 
our first parents, and that he and his associates still employ all 
their skill and power to entice men to sin, are facts plainly stated, 
or clearly implied, in very many passages of Scripture. The devil 
is called ' the god of this world ;' ' the prince of the power of the 
air.' He is said to * deceive the nations,' to * work in the hearts 
of the children of disobedience,' to ^ go about like a roaring lion 
seeking whom he may devour.' We are warned to take heed of 
*the devices of Satan,' * not to give place to the devil,' and ex- 
horted again to ^ withstand the wiles of the devil.' Satan is said 
to have tempted David to number Israel, and to have inflicted 
fearful evils upon Job. He appeared personally to Christ in the 
wilderness, and tempted him, and afterwards ' departed from him 
for a season.' Lastly, the Apostle Paul reminds believers that 
they * wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principali- 
ties, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this 
world, against wicked spirits (Marg.) in high places* (Ephes. vi. 12). 
It appears to us that these and similar passages do, in the most 
plain and positive manner, teach that the fallen angels have access 
to this world, and possess the power of inflicting evil, by God's 
permission, upon mankind. The texts referred to above, in proof 
of the confinement of these wicked spirits, are as follow : — ' If God 
spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and 
delivered them into chains of darkness to be reserved unto judg- 
ment ' (2 Peter ii. 4) ; and the very similar one in Jude — ' And 
the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own 

» Cyclop, <f Biblical Literature, art. 'Demoniacs.* 

habitation. 



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1849.] Demoniacal Possession, 17 

habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness, 
unto the judgment of the great day * (ver. 6). Now it certainly 
cannot be said that either of these passages describes the rebel 
host as confined to any particular locality. It is true chains ste 
mentioned, but they are chains of darkness^ which is obviously a 
figurative expression ; and though it may be difficult to say what 
is the precise import of the words, the chief idea involved in the 
word chains seems to be that of security y rather Aan confinement 
to one particular place. The term raqraqdtsa^ too, which our 
translators have rendered 'cast down to hell,' does not at all 
necessarily imply confinement in one place, as a prison. It is 
surely then unsafe to oppose such obscure and dubious passages 
as these to the numerous and plain statements relative to the 
agency of Satan in our world, which we have adduced. Besides, 
the notion of the confinement of the devil and his angels to one 
locality or prison, on their expulsion from the divine presence, 
which is thought to be involved in the passages from Peter and 
Jude, is altogether inconsistent with a passage in Rev. xx. 1-3 : 
* And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of 
the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. And he laid 
hold on the dragon, that old serpent which is the devil and Satan, 
and bound him a thousand years. And cast him into the bottom- 
less pit, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the 
nations no more.' However commentators may difler as to the 
period of the fulfilment of this prediction, whether it be past or 
future, it clearly implies that Satan, though ' cast down to hell,* 
is not therefore confined to that place. There would be obvi* 
ously no meaning in the statement that he was to be ' shut up in 
the bottomless pit ' for a time, unless he had been at large previ- 
ously, and at the expiration of the time named would be set at 
liberty once more. 

Another most important argument in favour of the literal in- 
terpretation of those numerous passages in the Gospels respecting 
demoniacs is, that the Fathers, during the first ages of the Church, 
unanimously agreed in the opinion that such persons were actually 
the subjects of demoniacal possession. Had our Lord and his 
apostles regarded demoniacs merely as persons afflicted with certain 
disorders, it is quite inconceivable that their immediate successors 
could have agreed in thinking their peculiar condition as the result 
of supernatural agency. Views so directly and obviously at vari- 
ance with each other, on a question not so much of doctrine as of 
fact, could not possibly have prevailed, especially as it referred to 
a subject of such practical importance — the power and agency of 
him whose works it was the declared object of Christ's mission to 
destroy. Besides, it should be remembered that the expulsion of 
. VOL. IV. — NO. VII. c demons 



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18 The Scriptural Doctrine o^ [July, 

demons was one of the signs which our Lord had promised should 
^ follow them that beliere ' (Mark xvi. 17). How impossible then 
that the early Fathers, who must have been of the number of those 
to whom this promise was made, should altogether misunderstand 
the nature of the power with which they were endowed, and sup- 
pose that they were ejecting evil spirits from men, while all the 
while they were merely heuing certain natural diseases I 

From these considerations it must be at once evident that the 
writings of the early Fathers are of the utmost importance in de- 
ciding the question before us; and it may with confidence be 
asserted that the evidence which they contain in favour of real 
possession is most triumphant. Whilst almost every one of the 
early Fathers declares his belief that demoniacs were truly actu-^ 
^ted by wicked spirits from the invisible world, not one of them, 
so far as we are aware, expresses the slightest hint to the con- 
trary. We will bring forward some examples. Justin Martyr, 
in his Dial, cum Tryp.^ says, ' At the name of Jesus Christ the 
demons tremble, and are subject unto us. I mean when they are 
adjured by his name ' (p. 36, edit. Jebb). In a subsequent pas- 
sage, this Father refers to the fact as a convincing proof of the 
power of Jesus (p. 256). Iren»us states that the gift of expelling 
demons from the possessed was in his time common to all Chris- 
tians, and adds that ' many who had been thus delivered became 
believers, and continued in the church ' (ii. p. 57). Theophilus 
of Antioch, speaking of demoniacs, says that the demons who had 
been exorcised by the name of Christ * confessed themselves to be 
demons ' (ii. p. 87). Tertullian challenges the pagans to bring a 
demoniac or heathen prophet before any of the public tribunals, and 
in order that the unclean spirit may be expelled. He even offers 
to deliver himself up to be put to death, should he fail to make the 
demon confess to the spectators his infernal origin {Apohg. cap. 
xxxviii.). In another part of the same work he asks, * Who would 
there be to deliver people from tlie incursions of demons, if the 
Christians were gone ?' And compares the condition in which they 
would be placed to ' empty houses liable to be seized by unclean 
spirits' (iWrf., cap. xxxrii.). Minudus Pelix appeals to the 
pagans aa acknowledging the truth of real possession, and describes 
in the following words the mode in which evil spirits quitted the 
bodies of demoniacs :— * They violently depart by a sudden mo- 
tion immediately, or else vanish away gradually, according to the 
faith of the patient or the grace of tne operator' (cap. xxvii.). 
Cyprian refers to the fact that in his time ' Christians, by the 
^irit of God, compelled unclean spirits who wandered a]x)ui and 
entered into men, to quit them, and vanquished them' {Ad Donat. 
p. 3). In another of his writings be says that ' demons when ad- 
jured 



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1S49.] Demoniacal Possemon. 19 

jured ccM!ife8sed tbenmelyes to be such, petitioned for mercy, and 
spoke of a judgment to come.' And lie invites Demetrius, a cele- 
brated pagan, to come and hear for himself (Ad Demetr, p. 133)« 
The testimony of Lactantius (ii. pp. 14, 15), of Eusebius {Cant 
HierocL p. 514, and Demon. JEvang. iii. p. 132), and other writers^ 
may be referred to in proof of the realitv of demoniatsal posses- 
sion ; and when the practice of exorcism became less frequent, at 
the close of the third century, a distinct order of men, staled 
Exorcists, were regularly ordained for the express purpose of ex- 
peUmg demons from the miserable objects of Satanio malice. 



WINER'S BIBLE-LEXiCON. 

By the Rev. Walteb Cabbick, M.A., St. Andrews. 

JBiblisches Sealwoerterbuch zum Handgebrauch fUr Studirende^ 
Candidateriy Gymnasiallehrer und Prediger ausgearbeitet 
von Dr. Georq Benedict Winer, Konigl. Kirchenrath und 
ordentlichem Professor der Theologie an der Universitat zu 
Leipzig, u. s. w. Dritte sehr verbesserte und vermehrte Auflage. 
Leipzig, bei Carl Heinrich Reclam, sen. 2 bde. 8. 1847-1848. 

, \A Scientific and Historical Bible-Lexicon^ for the Hand-use of 
StudentSy Preachers^ Gymnasium^masters^ and Ministers. By 

! Dr. Georg Benedict Winer, Royal Ecclesiastical Counsellor, 
and Professor of Theology in the University of Leipzig, etc. 
Third Edition, much enlarged and improved. Leipzig ; Carl 

. Heinrich Reclam, sen. 2 vols. 8vo. 1847-1848. pp. 688 
and 779.] 

We saw Professor Winer (Hily once. It was in the autumn of 
1847. We were than returning through Leipzig from, a short 
visit to Hermhut and the disciples of ZinzendonL For several 
days past the weather had been very inauq[)iciou8 for travelling, and, 
upon our arrival at Leipadg, the rain was descending in torrents. 
As it happened, however, to be the time ci the gjreat ' Mes^y 
we resolved not to push on to Halle till the evening, but, dis- 
agreeable though the weather was, remain for a few hours and 
' go to the fair.' After taking a turn or two along the principal 
streets and contemplating with wondering gaze the big boots, the 
big blouses, and the big beards of the busy Jews, who were to be 
found congregated ' out of every nation under heaven,* we set off 

c 2 in 



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20 fViner*s Bible^ Lexicon. [July, 

in quest of Winer's residence. We had heard much and often 
about the Professor. We were acquainted with his writings and 
we wished to see himself. Moreover, my French fellow-traveller 
wished to consult him about the making of a translation of his 
New-Testament Grammar. Accordingly, after threading our 
way through the bustling crowd, we at length reached the Profes- 
sor s dwelling, which, for a literary i!han, is finely situated out of 
the din and tumult of the city. 

It was about mid-day when we called. The Professor's ton- 
versation-hour {Sprechstunde) had almost struck. Consequently, 
congratulating ourselves that we had made our visit at such a 
seasonable time, we were invited to enter, and told that Dr. 
Winer would be with us shortly. In a few minutes the door was 
opened and Mein Herr Kirchenrath appeared in propria persona. 
Professor Winer is a tall, erect, Teutonic-looking sexagenarian. 
His eye is remarkably bright and penetrating, his forehead large 
and prominent, liis air and deportment those of the scholar — of 
the peculiarly German scholar — much more of the scholar than of 
the divine. His whole mien and conversation instantly reminded 
one of his favourite motto, * Protestantism, according to its very 
nature^ is allied to science J * Winer is a very different kind of 
man from the two great theolo^ans who were bom in the same 
year ^ with him — Neander and Twesten. One feels in Winer's 
study that he has a learned ^aramarian and indefatigable student 
before him ; but he is certainly not conscious of the presence of 
such a truly great divine as Neander, or of a man of such im- 
mense quickness and volubility as the active, lively Twesten. 
Neander is by far the greatest genius of the three ; Winer is the 
most patient and laborious ; Twesten is the most prompt and ver- 
satile. Each is distinguished in his own way. But the distinction 
of Twesten is that of the agile youth, the distinction of Neander 
is that of the vigorous man, the distinction of Winer that of the 
toil-worn sage. 

Professor Winer's three principal works are undoubtedly his 
Lexicon, his Symbolih^ and his Grammar, His Grammar — ^under 
the title ' Granmatik des neutestamentlichen Sprachidioms als 
sichere Grundlage der neutestamentlichen Exegese^ [A Grammar of 
the Idioms of the New Testament as a sure foundation for a New 
Testament-Exegesis] — ^first appeared in the year 1822. An 
English Translation of this first edition by Professors Stuart and 
Robinson was published at Andover in 1825, and a Swedish trans- 
lation by Rogberg at Upsala in 1827. A second edition of the 

* « Der Protestantismus ist seiner Natar nach mit der Wissenschafl verwandt.* 
»» The year 1789. 

original 



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1849.] PFiner's Bibk-Lexicon. 21 

ori^nal was brought out in 1825 and 1828, a third edition in 
1830, a fourth edition in 1836, and a fifUi edition in 1844. This 
work — especially in ttie last edition, which is much enlarged and 
improved — is a very valuable guide to the Exegesis of the New 
Testament. Previously to the labours of Winer there were no 
treatises of more importance* in this department of biblical science 
than the now almost entirely forgotten productions of Wyss and 
Pasor and Haab ; whereas at present, principally through the 
exertions of the Leipzig Professor, the Grammar of the New 
Testament is regarded as a distinct and most important branch of 
biblical theology, to which, especially in Germany, valuable 
contributions are every day being made. 

The * Comparative Darstellung des Lehrhegriffs der verschiedenen 
Christlichen Kirchenpai^teien^ nebst volhtdndigen Behgen aus den 
Symbolischen Schriften derselben' [Comparative Representation of 
the Doctrines of the different Christian Church-parties, with copious 
Extracts from their Symbolical Books] appeared in 1824, and, 
in a second edition, in 1837. This is perhaps the most unexcep- 
tionable of all Winer's writings. There are almost no peculiar 
dogmatic opinions of his own contained in it It is simply an 
objective representation of the doctrines to be found in the creeds 
of the different churches, without any special critique concerning 
their truth or untenableness. It is characterized throughout by 
excellency of plan, profundity of research, truthfulness and accu- 
racy of delineation. 

In addition to his Grammar^ Lexicon, and Symbolikj Professor 
Winer is the author of an extensive number of other treatises. 
The largest of these is his * Handbuch der theologischen Literatur ' 
[Handbook of Theological Literature], third ed. 2 vols. 8vo., 
Leipz. 1838 and 1840 — ^to which in 1842 there was added a Sup- 
plement, containing a list of the works in theology down to the close 
of the year 1841. This, though in many respects a useful publi- 
cation, is by no means a work of such merit as the treatises 
already spoken of. It has many inaccuracies, such, for example, 
as the giving of the well-known Spanish Jesuit * Maldonatus 
maledicentissimus' a place three several times ^ among Protestant 
writers, tiiough the author lays it down as his plan to arrange 
Prot.estant and Romanist authors separately. Moreover, there is 
no criticism whatever concerning the merits of the various works 
enumerated, or the value of the different editions of the Fathers, 
and, in respect to the theological literature of the not-German 
world, it contains almost no information. 

Dr. Winer's minor works have appeared under the following 

« Vol. i. pp. 194, 242, 621. 

titles:— 



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22 Winers Bible-Lexicon. [July, 

titles : — De OfUteloso ^'usque Paraphrasi Chaldaica Dissertation 
1820 ; De Jonathanis in Fentat Paraph. Chald., Spec. I., 1823 ; 
Comm. de Versionis N. T. Syr. Usu Critico caute instituendo, 
1823 ; Ueber die Armuth der hebrdischen Sprache^ 1820 ; Unter^ 
suchung cb die kebrdis, Sprache leicht zu nennm sei^ 1823 ; 
Grundlinien einer Methodik des Elementarurderrichts in der hebr. 
Sprache^ 1819 ; Spiciieg. Observat. in loc, Paulin. 2 Cor. x. 1-12, 
1829 ; Disp. de Verbor. Simplicium pro Compositis in N. T. Usu 
et Causis^ 1833 ; De Verb, cum Prcsposit. Compositorum in N. T. 
Usu, 1834 ; Chrestomathia Talmudica et Rabbinica^ 1822 ; Obser- 
vationes in Epist. Jac. e Vers. Syr. 1827 ; Locus 1 Pet. i. 12, a 
Criticor. et Interpretum Iryuriis vindicatur^ 1830 ; Beitrag zur Ver- 
besserung der neutest. Lexikographie^ 1823 ; Conjunctionum in N. 
T. accuratius explicandarum Causce et Eocempla^ 1826 ; Pauli ad 
Galatas Epistola. Latine vertit et perpei. annot. illustravit^ 1829 ; 
Chald. Lesebuchy 1825 ; Gramm. des biblischen und targ, Chal- 
daismuSy 1824 ; Disp. de Hypallage et Hendiadyi in N. T. libris^ 
1824 ; Disp. de Abstracti pro Concreto in N. T. Causis et Finibus^ 
1831 ; Justin Martyr^ Evang. Can. usumfuisse ostenditur^ 1819 ; 
Oratiq muneris Hector, auspiciandi causa, 1841 ; De emendata Nom 
Testamenti Interpretatione Oratio^ 1823. Dr. Winer also edited 
Bertholdt's OpuscAcad.^ 1824 ; Jo. Simonis Lexic. Manuale Hebr. 
et Chahy 1828; and Confessio Augustana, brevi annot., 1825. He 
was likewise the editor of the Exeget. Studien^ of the Zeitschrift fur 
wissensc/iaftlichen Theologie, and, in conjunction with Engelhardt, 
of the Neues krit. Journal der theologischen Literatur. 

Having thus taken a rapid glance at Dr. Winer and his works 
generally, let us now proceed to inquire particularly into the 
character of his Lexicon. It first appeared at Leipzig in 1820, 
2 vols., Svo., and was translated into Dutch by CorelL A second 
edition was brought out in 1833-38. The first three parts of the 
third edition were given forth in 1846, and the subsequent parts 
have since been gradually appearing. 

The Realwdrterbuch is a unique production. Though there 
be many books in our language entitled dictionaries of the Bible, 
yet these do not generally embrace the same kind of articles 
which Winer's work takes up, and, even when they give the same 
themes which he gives, they treat them in a fundamentally dif- 
ferent manner. This may safely be said of the compilations of 
Jones, Watson, Barr, Davidson, Robinson, Brown, Buck, Mans- 
ford, and Eadie, as well as of the Encyclopcedia of Religious 
Knowledge, the Pictorial Dictionary of the Holy Bible, the Union- 
Bible Dictio?iary of America, the Gazetteer of the Old and 
N^ew Testament, the PeopWs Dictionary of the Bible, and many 
other similar publications. These are works not so much for the 

advancement 



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1 849.] Wtner'i Bible-Lexiean. 28 

advancement of Biblical science as for the dissemination of useful 
instruction among the ordinary raqks of the people* In Germany, 
also, there is no Bible-lexicon which can properly be compared 
to that of Winer. Even at home he is left alone in his glory. 
The best-known German works previously to the time of Winer 
were Rechenbergius's HirnvkxieoH Beale^ Leipzig, 1714, 2 vols.| 
4to. ; Hezel's Biblisches Real* Lexicon^ Leipzig, 1783-85, 3 vols., 
4to. ; Leun's Biblisches Encyhlopadie^ Gotha, 1793-98, 4 vols«| 
4to.. ; and Bellermann's Handbach der Biblischen Literaiur^ 
Erfurt, 1787-1804, 4 vols., 8vo. Since the appearance of 
Winer's book, however, these old productions have been entirely 
laid aside. 

There consequently remain onlv two Bible-Dictionaries at all 
worthy of being compared to that of the Leipzig professor. 
The first of these is Calmet's Dictionkaire Ifistoriqtie^ Critique 
Chronoloffigtte, G^ographique, et LitUrah de la Bible^ Paris, 1722, 
2 vols., folio, and two supplementary vols, in 1728; but in a 
much improved and enlarged edition in 1730, 4 vols., folio. An 
English translation of this second edition by D'Oyley and Colson 
in 3 vols., folio, appeared at London in 1732. The more recent 
editions by Mr. Charles Taylor and Dr. Robinson of America 
are universally known. The other Bible-dictionarv referred to ia 
the CyclopcBdia of Biblical Literature^ edited by Dr. Kitto, 
Edinburgh, 1845, 2 vols. 8vo. These two lexicons, however, do 
not embrace the same extent of ground with that of Winer. 
Calmet ^ves out the scope of his work as being 'the Letter, 
History, and Criticism oi Scripture.' But what he means to 
include under these vague terms can be learned only from a 
personal acquaintance with his ill-digested lucubrations. As a 
member of the church of Rome, he has many articles whidi could 
find no place in a Protestant treatise. Asides, he has many 
articles which are of really no value either to Protestant or 
Romanist. And, on the other hand, his list is in many instances 
defective — at least when viewed from the standpoint of modem 
theology. The Cyclopaedia of Biblical Literature^ besides in- 
cluding * Biblical Archaeology — to which in the more extensive 
sense of that term the Realworterbuch is confined — contains also 
* Biblical Introduction,' or, still more correctly, the Hietory of 
Holy Writ.^ The German lexicon, therefore, takes up only the 
one half of the field gone over in the English treatise. But, not- 
withstanding this, Dr. Winer's work cannot be reckoned deficient. 
He takes up a distinct department, which, with the utmost pror 

^ See Hupfeld, Begnffund Methods der aogenannten biblischen Einleiiung, Marb'. 
1S44 ; De Wette's EtnleUung in das alte Testament, p. 1, Berlin, 1845 ; and Oehler'i 
Proiegomejta.zur Thtologie deM alUn TeatamentSf p. 8, Stuttgart, 1S45. 

. . priety, 



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24 Winer's Bihle- Lexicon. [July, 



I 



riety, can be considered apart from the History of Holy Writ,' 
fact, the History of Holy Writ^ as Winer himself states in his 
preface, can be much more advantageously treated of in a syste- 
matic than in an alphabetical order. The English, student^ 
however, who is so very scantily supplied with works on * Biblical 
Introduction,' can be disposed to find no particular reason for 
complaint that Dr. Kitto and his contributors have supplied him 
with a series of such very valuable articles on * the History of 
Holy Writ,' though he might have considerably preferred a 
systematic to an alphabetical arrangement of a science which is 
much more preparatory to the study of Scripture, than for occa- 
sional consultation when one is already engaged in the study of 
the Bible itself. It is, therefore, only the one half of the Cyclo- 
pcedia of Biblical Literature which has commcm ground with the 
Real-lexicon and can be cmSdpared to it. 

Calmet was undoubtedly a great man in his day, and he accom- 
plished much for the advancement of Biblical interpretation- 
But, however praiseworthy and useful his dictionary once was, it 
is by no means suited to the advanced state of theological lite- 
rature. It contains many theories that have long ago been 
exploded, philology that has been superseded by more carefiil 
and philosophical investigations, archaeological blunders that have 
long since been exposed and corrected, and innumerable geogra- 
phical descriptions that have been entirely set aside by tibe con- 
current voice of recent travellers. The Cyclopaedia of Biblical 
Literature, as might have been a priori expected, is not of uniform 
merit. Very many of the articles are admirably written, though 
others are more sketchy and not so sound. As a general rule, 
those who have written most for this compilation have written 
best. Considered as a whole, it is a work of sterling worth and 
real usefulness. It has even already brought about in England 
and America a new era in this department of theological science. 

The Bealworterbuch is a truly Germanic production. Its every 
page is replete with learning. It is a noble monument, raised at 
an enormous expense of time and trouble. Many a long and 
many a laborious hour its indefatigable author must have pored 
over it. For its composition, many a venerable folio in the 
Leipzig University library must have been despoiled of its 
* learned dust,' and many a recent publication on geography 
and natural history been carefully consulted again and again. 
The statement prefixed by the learned Suicer to his TTie- 
saurus * opus viginti annorum indefesso labore adomatum,' 
may, with a superadded decennary, be truthfiilly applied to the 

• Sfee, however, the opposite opinion of Credner, Kitto*s Ci/cldp, vol. i. p. xviii. 

Herculean 



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1849.] JViners Bibh-Lezicon. 25 

Herculean task accomplished by our untirable author. The 
Healwifrterbuch is anything but superficial. Every article bears 
traces of the hand of the student and scholar. Especially is 
this the case in reference to bibliographical notices and Oriental 
literature. But it is by no means a faultless production. It con- 
tains many grievous errors, and these too upon matters of the 
utmost importance. It is woefully deficient m sound, healthful 
Christian sentiment. The rationalistic sneer and sceptic doubt 
are ever and anon to be met with. It is characterized by no holy 
vein of serious industry and sanctified talent It is only a scholar- 
like production — and a production, too, which is most unscholar* 
like wherever it is most unchristian. Its jeering ^cavils may, as a 
class, be fairly represented as being poor and paltry. Difficulties, 
which even a tyro in theology could most easily solve to the 
satisfaction of any man of an honest heart and sound head, are 
brought forward in the most glaring and exaggerated manner 
with bitter and sarcastic insinuations. Theories are propounded, 
which are but * the baseless fabric ' of ungodly visions— unsup- 
ported alike by sound philosophy and the word of God. Hypo- 
theses are framed which can be * regarded only as the most 
extraordinary of those exhibitions of human folly which have been 
lately given to the world as speculations concerning our religion.'' 
New and daring allegations are made and dismissed with a few 
hasty words, as if every one were bound to receive them on the 
lexicographer's ipse dixit. Moreover, several articles contain loose, 
ramblmg statements, and very many are deficient in logical dis- 
crimination and sifting criticism. The bibliographical references, 
too, many and varied and useful though they be, are not uniformly 
characterized by anything like judiciousness of selection. 

To afibrd a fair specimen of the work itself, we here subjoin a 
translation of the article on the ^ Apostles,^ It has been fixed 
upon not on account either of its merit or demerit, but simply on 
account of its general interest and its fitness for giving a truthful 
exhibition of the author's views and style of composition. 

* Apostles, airooroXoi ; Syr. ^ ■■ i a J i> \ 0, Such was the name given 
to the twelve^ whom, in accordance with the number of the tribes 
of Israel (Matt. xix. 28 ; Lightfoot, Hcrr. Heb,^ 323 ; cf. TertuU. c. 
Marcion, iv, p. 415),* Jesus chose from among his followers (Mark iii. 

1% 

' Prof. Norton, The Genuineness of the GoepeU, part ii. ch. iv. yoI. i. p. 160, of 
the London reprint of 1847. See the whole chapter, entitled ' Concluding Remarks 
on Uie Direct Historical Evidence of the Genaineness of the Gospels,' which, though 
tinged with the Socinianism of the writer, is, ueyertheless, so/ar as it goes, a piece 
of sound learning and true philosophy. 

< ^ The number twelve was regarded as so fixed, that the Apostles were often 
designated simply ol i^Uica. (Matt. zxvi. 14, 47 j John wl 67; xx. 34, etc.). £ve^ 

in 



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S6 Winsr'^ BOIe-Lexioon. [July, 

13, *eq. ; Luke vi. 13, seq. ; cf. John vi. TO), and appointed heralds of 
the kingdom of God (Mark iii. 14) ; whose names are to be found also 
in Matt. x. 2, seq. (though without any mention of their selection).* They 
wer6 educated for this calling (the Kripvtrtreiv) by companionship and 
instruction; moreover, Jesus assigned them for their aid the power 
of healing diseases and casting out demons. See, generally, W. Cave, 
Antiquitates ApostoliceB ; or. The History of the Apostles^ Lond. 1677 
(German, Leip. 1724, 8vo.) ; F. Spanhem. DeApostolatu et Apostolis 
in s, Dissertatt, histor, qucUemio, Ludg. Bat. 1679, 8vo. ; J. F. Buddei, 
Ecdes, Apost.. Jen. 1729, 8vo. ; Fr. Burmann, Exereitt. Academ.y ii. 
104, seq.; Hess, Gesch, u. Schrift, d, ApostelJ,^ Zdrich, 1821, iii. 
8vo. ; G. J. Planck, Gesch. des Chistenth. in der Periode seiner ersten 
Evf^uhrung in die Welt durch Jesum und die Apostel^ Gotting. 1818, 
ii. 8vo. ; K. Wilhelrai Chrisii Apostel u. erste Bekenneroder Geschichte 
der Apostel J etc., Heidelb., 1825, 8vo. (Capelli Historia Aposid* 
Illustr., Genev. 1634, 4to., Salmur, 1683, 4 to., Fraiikf. 1691, 8vo., 
refers almost exclusively to the Apostle Paul ; and J. H. G. von Eiuem, 
Historia Chr. et Apostol.^ Goett. 1758, 4to., likewise Bullmann, De 
Apostolis, Bint., 1789, 4to., are of little importance.) The names of 
those chosen by Jesus' were : Simon Peter, Andrew, James (the son 
of 

in relation to an historical event, where all the twelve were no longer together, 
the expression oi Z<l^€Ka is used (1 Cor. xv. 5) as the regular appellation of the 
college. 

* * Because both John and Matthew say nothing of the act of choosing the 
Apostles ; already Schleiermacher ( Ud)er die Schrift des Lwxu, p. 88) denied that 
there ever were any formal calling and investiture of all the twelve Apostles 
(cf. Strauss, Ld)en Jesu, i. 549, f.). The fact that some of the Apostles early 
attached themselves to Jesus (Matt iv. 19, f. ; 21, f. ; John i. 35, ff.) cannot be said 
to make Uie choice and determination of a Jixed number to be the messengers of faith 
improbable ; while, on the other hand, one can very easily conceive how those disciples, 
who had been gained under remarkable circumstances, should have been thus spe- 
cially taken notice ot The Apostles always appear in the Evangelists, even in John 
(cf. vi. 67), as an assembly constituted of twelve, and indeed in such a manner, that, 
when Judas was separated from them, they themselves considered it necessary to 
fill up the college (Acts i. 15, flP.). John also (xv. 16) represents Jesus himself as 
referring to the act whereby they were chosen. Besides, it is very natural, if Jesus 
was in the habit of looking into the future, that he should early select special con-> 
tiuuators of >is work, upon the formation of whose character he could exercise 
immediate influence, and the remarkable number twelve would not be collected 
by accident. The addition of Paul in later times to the Apostolic College much 
less interfered with the intention of Christ, and the consecration which His personal 
selection gave unto those whom He chose, than the choosing of Matthias, for Paul 
considered himself as personally chosen by Christ. Finally, iir<J<rroXoj is never 
absolutely used of any other persons than the Apostles themselves (Paul beinir 
included). This holds true even of Rom. xvi. 7. Nor can it be regarded as inte^ 
fering with the name of this oflSce, that feilow-labourers of the Apostles should be 
called the itir6<rro\ot (the delegates) of a particular church-community (2 Cor. viii 
23 ; Phil. ii. 25). See further Hase, Leben Jesu, p. 11 1. 

• * The arrangement of the Apostles is almost the very same in the catalogues 
contained in the three Evan^iists. There is, however, a slight difference, Acts i. 13. 
jytere the names are ranked in pairs. The first two pairs consist of pairs of brothers,* 
Peter and Andrew, James the Greater and John ; and these names thus follow each 
other in Matthew and Luke, whereas Mark places Andrev» last. The thi^d pair 
are Philip and Bartholomew; the ft>urth, Thomas And Matthew, or, acoOniing to 

Luke 



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1849.] Winer i BibU-Lmcon. 27 

of Zebedee), John, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew (Levi), 
James (the son of Alpheus), Lebbeus (Thaddeos), SimoD, and Judas 
Iscariot/ ■ They were all ualeamed (J. Lami, JJe JSruditione Apo9* 
iolor, [Flor* 1788, 8vo.] g. 2 and 7*^), simple, trainable men from 
among the people, mostly Galileans (for Jesus was convinced that spi- 
ritual regeneration must and would take its rise from among the people, 
Matt. xi. 25)« partly related unto Jesus and the companions of His 
youth, some of them formerly the disciples of John the Baptist. There 
was no order of rank among the Apostles ; and although, in Matt. xvi. 
18, a pre'-emmeni part in the founding of the Christian church is 
allotted to Peter (see the interpreters on the passage), and he, even 
apart from this, stands forward already in the Gospels before the others, 
yet he was not therefore the superior ( Vorgesetzter) of the other Apostles ; 
nor was he recognized as such in the apostolic church (see the article 
p£T£B). Jesus early made the Apostles acquainted with the whole 
earnestness, yea, even with the sure danger of their calling (Matt. x. 
17). He did not communicate to them, however, what might properly 
be called esoteric instruction. As the whole teaching of Jesus had a 
practical tendency, so it possessed no mysteries for the initiated. The 
Apostles accompanied Him when He went about teaching ; and when 
He journeyed to the feasts,^ they beheld His noble deeds, they listened 
to His addresses to the people (Matt. v. 1, seq. ; xxiii. 1, seq. ; Luke iv. 
13, seq.), and heard His conversations with the learned Jews (Matt. xix. 
13, seq. ; Luke x. 25, seq.). They attended Him (especially the more 
intimate of them, Peter, John, and James the Elder) not unfrequently 
in private (Matt. xvii. 1, seq.), and conversed with Him, requesting in- 

Luke and Mark, invertedly, Matthew and Thomas ; the fifth and sixth pairs have 
the greatest variation (James the Less, Jndas, Thaddens, Simon the Canaanite, and 
Judas Isoariot, or, according to Luke, James the Less, Simon the Canaanite, Judas, 
Thaddeus, Judas Iscariot), Judas, however, always being placed last. There were 
doubtless various reasons on account of which the chief persons occupied a fixed 
order. See Clemen, in my Zeitsck. fSr wissenschaf. Theol., iii. 334, fif. ; Meyer 
on McUL^ X. 2. 

' * For the names of the Apostles, in Mohammedan tradition, see Thilo, Apoe., 
i. 152. 

* & Arnobius, I p. 8 Ne qua subesset suspicio magicis se artibus mnnera ilia 

beneficiaque largitum ex immensa ilia populi multitudine .... piscatores, opifices, 
rusticauos atque id genus delegit imperitorum, qui per varias gentes missi cuncta 
ilia miraeula sine uUis focis atque adminiculis perpetrarent' — Neander, Leb, Jesu^ 
p. 226, f. 

* * Jesus made more lengthened journeys only in summer at the time of the feasts, 
which every religious Jew was wont to celebrate ; His shorter visits to places 
situated in the neighbourhood of Capernaum certainly did not occupy the whole of 
His time. Thus could the Apostles be almost constantly in His company (cf. Acts 
i. 21), without entirely giving up their civil occupations or forsaking tbeir homes 
(cf. Mark i. 29), for some of the Apostles were married (Matt. viii. 14 ; 1 Cor. 
ix. 5 ; see Euseb., Hist, Eccles , iii. 30 ; J. A. Schmid, Diss, de ApostoUs Uxoratis. 
Helmst., 1704 [Vitab. 1734], 4to. ; cf. Deyling, Ohservatt., iii. 469, seqq. ; Ch. M. 
Pfaff, De Circumduciione soror. tnulierum Apostolica^ Tubing., 17.51, 4to. ; and 
Schulthess, Neuest. Theol. Nachricht, 1828, i. 130, ff.}. Concerning the advantage 
which could arise to apostolic labours from the accompanying aid of such wives of 
Aposties (1 Cor. ix. 5), see Clemens Alex., Strom.y iii. p. 191. This fiither regarded 
only tb« a9cX^ (I Cot. ix. 5) as improper. 

formation 



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28 Wimr^s Bible- Lexicon. [July, 

formation (Matt. xv. 15, seq. ; xviii. 1, seq. ; Luke viii. 9, seq. ; xii. 41 ; 
xvii. 5 ; John ix. 2, seq.) on religious matters, sometimes in reference to 
the declarations of Jesus, sometimes generally (Matt. xiii. 10, seq.) ; 
yea, they were once even sent to proclaim the kingdom of Grod (Mark 
vi. 7, seq. ; Luke ix. 6, seq.), and happily brought about cures (Mark vi* 
13 ; Luke ix. 6), although in this last particular they were not always 
successful (Matt. xvii. 16.) They indeed recognized Jesus (Matt. xvi. 
16 ; Luke ix. 20) as the Messiah (6 Xjokftoc tov Otov), endowed with 
mighty power (Luke xi. 54) ; yet, being hindered by weak powers of 
comprehension and national prejudices, they made slow progress in the 
comprehension of the spiritual doctrine and design of their Master 
(Matt. XV. 16 ; xvi. 22 ; xvii. 20, seq. ; Luke ix. 54 ; John xvi. 12). 
They found it necessary to ask Him the meaning of simple, plain 
parables (Luke xii. 41, seq.), confessed openly the weakness of their faith 
(Luke xvii. 5), and, even at the departure of Jesus from the earth, 
although they had for more than two years (see the art. Jesus) been 
carefully reared and instructed step by step (Matt. xvi. 21), they were 
still weak in understanding (Luke xxiv. 21 ; cf. John xvi. 21). See 
Vollborth, De Discip. Christi per grctdus ad dignitatem et potent, 
Apostol. evectis, Gotting. 1790, 4to. ; Bagge, De sapientia Christi in 
Electioney Instittitione, et Missione Apostolor,, Jen. 1754, 4to. ; Ziez, 
Qtsomodo Notio de Messia in animis App. sensim sensimque clariorem 
acceperit lucenij Lubec, 1793, ii. 4to. ; Liebe, in Augusti N, TheoL 
Bldtt,^ ii. i. 42, seq. ; Ernesti, De Prceclara Chr, in App. instituendis 
sapientia et prudentia, Gotting. 1834, 4to. ; Neander, LA. J,, 229, seq. 
cf. also E. A. Ph. Mahn, Comm, in qua dtidbus IV. Evangg. Apostolo* 
rumque Scriptis distinguuntur tempora et notantur vice, quib. ApostoU 
Jesu doctrinam divin. sensim sensimque melius perspexerint, Gotting. 
1809, 4to. Even the symbolical consecration (^Weihe), which, under 
such solemn circumstances, they received at the last supper (Matt. xxvi. 
26, seq. ; Mark xiv. 22, seq. ; Luke xxii. 17, seq.), neither kindled enthu- 
siasm within them (Matt. xxvi. 40, seq.), nor preserved them from discon- 
solatenessat the death of Jesus (Mark xvi. 14, seq. ; Luke xxiv. 13*^ seq., 
36, seq. ; John xx. 9, 25, seq.). They left the burial of the Lord to 
women and one who was not an Apostle ; and his indubitably proven 
resurrection first gathered them together again. Yet many of them 
went back again to their occupations (John xxi. 3, seq.), and it required 
a new injunction of their Master (Matt, xxviii. 18, seq.) to bring them 
again to their calling and to assemble them in Jerusalem (Acts i. 4). 
Here they continued in pious communion of the Holy Spirit (John xx. 
22), whom Jesus had promised unto them as the Comforter (John xiv. 
26 ; xvi. 13 ; Acts i. 8) ; and, soon after the departure of the Divine 
Teacher, on the feast of Pentecost, which was commemorative of the 
establishment of the Old Covenant, being affected by an extraordinary 
phenomenon,^ they felt the power of this Spirit entering into them 
(Acts 

( 7 The occurrence in Acts ii. is to be explained partly psychologically, and partly 
it may be embellished in the tradition of the tale. The disciples, awaiting the 
promised irvct^ were assembled together on the feast of the giving of the law, 

and 



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1849.] JViner's Bible-Lexicon. 29 

(Acts ii.), and hesitated not — ^after they had by the election of Matthias 
(see the article) redintegrated the number of the Twelve, which had been 
diminished by the apostacy of Judas (Acts i. 15, seq.y--as the witnesses 
of the life and resurrection of their Lord (Luke xxiv. 48 ; Acts i. 8, 22 ; 
ii. 32; iii. 15; v. 32; xiii. 31), to begin" with courage and success 
(Acts ii. 41) the proclamation of the kingdom of God in the holy city 
itself. Their calling was now determined, and clear light was now 
manifested to them in regard to many things that had formerly been 
dark (John ii. 22 ; xii. 16 : see Henke in Pott, SyUoge, i. 19, seq.). 
The 'mother assembly at Jerusalem became, under the eyes of the 
Apostles, and not without their personal sacrifice, a society inwardly 
united, though as yet by no means outwardly separated from the Jewish 
cultus (Acts iii.-vii.) ; and the apostolical activity already carried the 
seed of the divine word to the Samaritans, among whom Jesus (John iv.) 
had formerly found susceptible hearts (Acts viii. 5, seq., 14). This was 
the^r^^ period of apostolical labour. But still more important was 
the step of Peter, who, not without the aversion and disapprobation of 
the primitive Christians, preached (Acts x. xi.) the Gospel unto the 

and were absorbed in ardent, ecstatic contemplation. There followed a peal of 
thunder that shook the whole building, and the ecstatic disciples saw, or believed 
that they saw, fiery flames (tonsnes, Isa. v. 24, cf. my edit of Simon's Lexic, Hebr, 
p. 537), which, as symbols of the Holy Ghost descended upon them (cf. Wetsten., 
li. 462, seq.). Powerfully influenced, and affected by the nearness of the Grodhead, 
they expressed themselves with all the vivacity of the Oriental character in burning 
adoration of God (Acts x. 44, seq.), and must have exhibited to those who were 
present an unwonted spectacle. It is very difficult to say what the AaActy irtpait 
yK^ffcus (ver. 4) actually was, and how much die legend has added to the facts of 
the case. It is certainly the design of Luke to relate an extraordinary wonder. 
This is evident from the special recounting of the foreign tongues (ver. 9, seq.) ; and 
indeed it is in relation to this that the embellishing legend may have been prin- 
cipally engaged. It is easily imaginable that those who spoke expressed themselves 
contrary to their usual custom in their different vernacular tongues (for enthusiastic 
persons always prefer their mother-tongue) ; yet one cannot in the present case see 
how, in the prayer-room of the Galileans (ver. 7)^ or even of all the then Christians 
(ver. I), any considerable difference of dialect could exist One must therefore 
adopt die opinion that in the room referred to there were Jews present from different 
lanos ; or, is the astonishment of the multitude to be regarded only as the result of 
the eloquent enthusiasm with which (in an unusual language !) the Galileans ex- 
pressed themselves, and the dressing up of the ir4pcus yX^cffcus to be looked upon 
only as the product of the wonder-working legend ? At all events, it must be con- 
fessed, that all the difficulties of this relation cannot be cleared up ; and that, in 
whatever manner it is to be re^rded, a merely natural view of the matter cannot 
be reckoned the opinion of the historian. Cf. the different, and partly most al^urd, 
notions of expositors, especially Kuinol and De Wette, on Acts ii. ; J. Schulthess, 
De Charismaiihus Spir. Sanctiy Lips. 1818, i. 8vo. ; Schulz, Geistesgaben der ersten 
diristen^ Breslan, 1836, 8vo. ; Neander, Pflam^ i. 11, seq. Hoffmann of late ( VfetV 
9ag.i ii. 207, seq.) seeks to destroy all scientific investigations, as above, concerning 
the yK, hrfy. XoXciv. 

< 8 According to an old legend, the Apostles in the preaching of the Gospel divided 
(he countries of the (then known) world (Socrat, Hist. Eccles^ i. 19 ; Rufin., Hist, 
Eccles., i. 9 ; cf. Theodoret, Ad Ps. cxvi. 1 : tradition still points out the spot in 
Jerusalem where this took place, see F. Fabri, i. 269) ; and it is to this that the 
Festum divisionis Apostolor. (15th July) refers. Such a division, however, is refuted 
by the long-continued particularism of the Aposties, and is certainly nothing else 
than a dogmatic production. 

heathen 



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30 IVinets Bible^ Lexicon. [July, 

beathen on the sea^oast ; for this was the aignal for the organization 
of a second and considerable assembly in Antioch, the Syrian capital, 
(Acts %L 21 )y with which the assembly at Jerusalem placed itself 
in friendly correspondence (Acts xi. 22, seq.). This was the second 
period of apostolic labour. But what had hitherto talcen place was at 
once thrown in the shade by the vigorous conduct of Paul, a Pharisee, 
who had been won for the apostolic calling in a wonderful manner. 
Although regarded at first with suspicion, be was able by lus ener- 
getic personality to obtain the consent and approbation of the Apostles 
(Acts xiii.). Yet he found himself preferably situated in Antioch, 
whence, with the assistance of powerful companions, whom he instructed, 
he carried the Gospel into far distant heathen lands^ leaving to others 
(to Peter, cf. Gal. ii. 7) the conversion of the Jews. This was the 
third period of apostolic labour. Henceforth Paul is the central point 
of the Acts of the Apostles ; even Peter gradually disappears ; and it 
is not till after the removal of Paul from Asia Minor that John again 
appears, quietly but powerfully working in small circles. Thus it was 
a man, who perhaps was personally unacquainted with Christ, who at 
least was not trained and consecrated by Him to be an Apostle, who 
accomplished more for Christianity than all the immediate Apostles, 
not only extensively and in reference to the geographical surface of his 
exertions, but also intensively, since be it was that determined the uni- 
versal tendency of the Christian scheme of salvation, and sought to 
reconcile with learning the simple doctrine of heaven. It is remarkable 
that it should have been a Pharisee, who should have most thoroughly 
followed out the world -historical spirit of Christianity ! With the 
exception of what is related incidentally in the work of Luke concern- 
ing Peter, John (Acts viii. 14), and the two Jameses (Acts xii. 2, 17 ; 
XV. 13; xxi. 18), the accredited history makes nothing further known 
about the Apostles of Jesus. There are tales, partly out of ancient 
times (Euseb., ffist, JSccles,, iii. 1), concerning nearly all the Apostles 
(see the Acta Apostolor. Apocrypha, which are generally ascribed to a 
certain Abdias, in Fabric, Cod, Apocryph., i. 402, seqq. ; and W. Cave, 
AntiqmtxUes Apos,, see above ; also Perionii, Vitrs Apostolor., Par. 
1551, 16to, and Frankf. 1744, 8vo.*). As, however, they partly con- 
tradict each other, and their gradual growth can often be traced, they 
must be carefully sifted. But all things being duly considered, we may 
warrantably infer that James (see the article), after the execution of the 
elder James (Acts xii. 2), generally resided at Jerusalem (cf. Acts xii. 
17), and was recognized as the director of the affairs of the Apostles 
(Acts XV, 13 ; xxi. 18 ; Gal. ii. 9), whereas Peter journeyed mostly as 
a missionary among the Jews {airdaroXo^ r% tnpiTOfxiig, GaJ. ii. 8) ) 
and, finally, John (all the three are called trrvXoi of the assembly. Gal. 
ii. 9) was engaged at Ephesus in spreading and rearing disciples for the 
practical, heartfelt character of Christianity, which was already endan- 
gered by Gnostic tendencies. Though we cannot regard the labours 

* ^ Ludewig, IHe Apostel J, oder mannichf. Nachrieht. und UaUrtueh, hittor.-hnL 
Art aber die Sohickstde «. da& Wirhen d, AposteL Quedlinb. 1841, 8vo. ; Jod. Heringa, 
Quastion, de Vitis Apostolor,, Tielae, 1844, 8vo. 

of 



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J 849.] Winer s Bible-Lexicon. 31 

of the Apoatles as insignificant, still it is remaiicable that the imme* 
diate Apostles did not accomplish more for the evangelical mesuxge^ 
and that the labours of the most of them should be related already 
during the first century only in very unwarranted tales. The choice 
made by Jesus might thus easily appear to have been In a great mea- 
sure unsuccessful, especially as there was among those who had been 
chosen also a Judas ! But we must not forget that it was important 
for Jesus in many respects to form a small circle around Him very 
early, at a time when a great choice was not afforded Him (Matt. ix. 
37, seq.), that Jesus must have regarded chiefly moral and intellectual 
trainableness, and that the final result of His training of the disciples 
(especially when we remember the turn which the Christian affairs took 
through the instrumentality of Paul) neither depended upon Him alone, 
nor even — if He did not possess omniscience (which even in John ii. 25, 
is certainly not attributed to Him) — could with certainty be foreseen.** 
He chose men of different individualities (F. Q. Gregorii IHss. II, De 
Temperamentis Seriptorum N, T., Lipz. 1710, 4to., cf. Hase, LebenJ,, 
112, seq.), part of them of very marked characters (Neander, Lthen •/., 
223, seq.), and it is not to be supposed that He hiinself meant tliat they 
would aXL be suited for the great calling. Still, the founding of the 
Church in the Holy Land and its neighbourhood is their work and 
service. See further the single articles ; but concerning the labours 
of the Apostles (within the scope of the New Testament), Neander, 
Geschichte d. Pflanz, u, Leitung d, ChristL Kirche durch die Apostel, 
Hamb, (1832, seq.), 3 Aufl., 1841. 2 bde. 8vo.' 

This article has many great excellencies. They are so obvious, 
that it is unnecessary particularly to specify them. But it has at 
the same time many grievous defects. Its Bibliographical Notices 
are very numerous, but not very judiciously chosen. There, are 
various books referred to, which contain no substantial informa- 
tion concerning the Apoatles, and there are other valuable authors 
— such as Suicer, Alban Butler, Lardner, McLean, and Schelling* 
— ^wha have been entirely overlooked. The Arrangement is far 
from being distinct and philosophical. The subject should have 
been treated of under some such great divisions as — ' The History 
of the Twelve as Disciples,'** and * The History of the Twelve as 
Apoatles.' By taking the day of Pentecost as the great line of 
demarkation, and considering the Twelve up to that period as 
scholars and afterwards as teachers, a much clearer notion of the 
whole matter might have been afforded. The Information — 

« ^ Ammoix {Leh. Jesu, it 7) represents this as an historical feet . . . . « When 
oae considers that they (such as Judas, Thomas, Lebbeos, and Simon tlie Zealot) 
-were found by Jesos to be less serriceabk in tbeir oalUng as teachers, and there- 
fore — without on this aecoont being deprived of their ofl5ce(!) — superseded by 

others.*' (?y 
s Still more recently, Mr. 'Stanley has admirably treated of the Apostles in his 

'O6rJR0fl9 €tttA JbiSMtVS Oft t/tC ApOmOliCM ' Js^^t v^XlOru, lo4r* 

^ Dr. Winer has no separate article, on the Disciples. 

considering 



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32 Winer's Bible-Lexicon. [July, 

considering the length of the article — is very defective. There i& 
really no solid instruction given concerning either the name or the 
characteristics of the Apostles. There is no adequate answer 
given to the questions — fVhai is meant by the name Apostle f 
Wherein does the apostolical office consist ? These most important 
inquiries might have been answered in very small space. The 
word 'A^offToXof might have been traced to its origin. The cor- 
responding Hebrew term rnW might have been attended to. 

The different significations of 'AirooroKos might have been set 
forth somewhal in the same manner as they are to be found 
distinguished in Wahl and Robinson and Suicer. But of even 
still greater importance was it for the author to have stated 
wherein the apostolical character consists. He ought to have 
given some criteria whereby the apostles could be separated from 
all other office-bearers in the church. This might have been done 
very shortly somewhat ui the following manner : — I. The apostles 
are the representatives or ambassadors of Christ, Luke vi. 13. 
(The same thing is true also of Paul, 2 Cor. v. 20.) Therefore 
they were immediately appointed by Christ, Mark iii. 14 ; Luke 
vi. 13 ; John xv. 16 ; xx. 21. (The same thing is true of Paul, 
Acts XX. 24; Rom. i. 5; Gal. i. 1.) H. They are the witnesses 
of Christ's resurrection, Luke xxiv. 48 ; John xv. 27 ; Acts i. 8 ; 
X. 40 — 42. (This also holds good in the case of Paul, Acts xxii. 
15 ; xxvi. 16 ) Therefore, they saw Christ after his resurrection. 
Matt, xxviii. 16, 17 ; John xxi. 1. (This also holds good in the 
case of Paul, Acts xxii. 14; xxvi. 16 ; 1 Cor.'ix. 1; xv. 8.) 
HI. They are the Authoritative Teachers of Christianity and 
Founders of the Christian Church, Matt, xviii. 18 ; John xx. 23 ; 
(Paul received the same commission, Rom. i. 1 — 5 ; Gal. i. 11 — 
1 7.) Therefore, they were empowered to work miracles and were 
inspired by the Holy Ghost, Matt. x. 1 ; Mark iii. 15 ; vi. 7 ; xvi. 
20 ; Luke ix. 1 ; Acts ii. 43 ; Matt, xxviii. 20 ; Luke xxiv. 49 ; 
John xiv. 16, 17, 26 ; xvi. 13—15 ; xx. 22 ; Acts i. 8 ; ii. 1—4. 
(Paul received the same gifts, 2 Cor. xii. 11, 12. Acts ix. 17 ; 
1 Cor. ii, 10 — 13.) Many of the Doctrinal Views brought for- 
ward by Professor Winer in this article on the Apostles are en- 
tirely spurious. It does not lie, however, within our scope to give * 
a lengthened refutation of them. Several are so absurd as to need 
no refutation. * They are too trifling to be confuted, and deserve 
to be mentioned only that they may be despised.' * Others, though 
known to be false, cannot be shoum to be so without impugning 
the author's whole standpoint. His seventh note contains the 
most remarkable of these vagaries. Some of them might be re- 

» Pitt. 

garded 



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1849.] mncr's Bible-Lexicon. 33 

garded as truly ridiculous — if any opinion upon such a momentous 
subject could with propriety be spoken of as ludicrous. When he 
asserts that the occurrence on the day of Pentecost, recorded in 
Acts, chap.ii., is to be explained, *partly psychologically and to be 
regarded partly an embellished tradition of the tale,' it could have 
been wished that the learned author had taken the trouble to have 
given some reason for such a strange notion. He then goes on to 
say, that the disciples, * absorbed in ardent and ecstatic contempla- 
tion, upon hearing a peal of thunder, believed that they saw fiery 
flames which descended upon them, and that, becoming powerfully 
affected, they broke out into all the vivacity of tne Oriental 
character in adoration of God and exhibited to those present an 
unwonted spectacle I' Such a statement, however, is but a piece 
of drivelling rationalism, without any foundation to rest upon. It 
is quite true that the Oriental style is often bombastic and exag- 
gerated ; but any man of common sense can most easily make a 
very marked distinction between the plain, unadorned narrative of 
Luke and such Orientalism as ' The armies of the English ride 
upon the vapours of boiling caldrons, and their horses are flaming 
coals ! whirr ! whirr 1 all by wheels ! whiz ! whiz 1 all by steam !' * 
When he goes on further to speak in the same note of * the legen- 
dary character \ of Luke's history, though he thus takes a very 
convenient method of helping himself out of the difficulties of 
naturalism, he certainly does not take a very warrantable or safe 
one. 

But, notwithstanding all this, it is somewhat pleasing to find such 
a man as Winer stating in his preface to the last edition of his Dic- 
tionary, * that upon the whole there appears to him to be contained 
even in the Old Testament more true continuous history than is now 
granted by many, and that he has learned during his labours this 
time also to entertain a higher respect for the Bible.' Both for 
his own sake and that of the Christian Church, it would be well 
if a man of such unquestionable learning as the Leipzig Professor 
would feel himself induced in mature age not merely to make such 
concessions as were made in bygone days by the aged Eichhom 
and E. F. C. Rosenmiiller, but abo, like his contemporaries, Leo, 
Tholuck, and Hensstenberg, to abandon rationalism altogether, 
and, with genuine simplicity, to receive the Holy Scriptures as a 
true and credible * declaration of those things which are most 
surely believed among ws,' and, as fitted under the blessing of the 
spirit of God, ' to make us wise unto salvation through faith which 
is in Christ Jesus.^ 

k Eothtn, p. 16. 

VOL. IV.— Ko. vn. D CHRISTIANITY 



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( 34 ) [July, 



CHRISTIANITY IN HARMONY WITH OUR 
FACULTIES. 

A SERMON. 

Translated from the French of the Rev. Athanase Coquerel, 
Pastor of the Reformed Church at Paris.' 



• God knoweth whereof we are made.' — Ps. ciii. 14. 



The Creator knows the creation. 

See that vast edifice in which you may wander as in a maze : 
the architect who planned it knows all its intricacies, and will 
lead you through them all in turn ; the plan of this or lliat palace 
is ever spread out in idea before him in its very least compart- 
ments. Behold this ingenious apparatus, vomiting forth steam, 
or smoke, or flame, and which to your ignorant eyes appears but 
a confused assemblage of springs and wheels ; the mechanist who 
made it will explain to you beforehand the movement of every 
branch of iron, and will prove to you how the play of the smallest 
pieces contributes to the power of the whole. This knowledge 
belongs to them as it were by right ; the idea of a work is in the 
mind of the workman, and the proof that he knows his work lies 
in the fact that he was able to produce it. Extend these simple 

J)rinciples, and apply them to the work of creation : and if your 
aith accept this dogma in all its mysterious simplicity ; if you be 
well convinced with Moses, that in the beginning God created the 
heavens and the earth ; if you believe that creation is a drawing 
forth from nonentity — ^these principles, when applied to God him- 
self, retain all their justness ; and it is very certain tliat the 
Creator knows his creation. 

This science of God includes man, and the Psalmist may well 
exclaim in support of his confidence, God knoioeth whereof we are 
made, Man and his double nature, his covering of dust, which 

* We gladly injsert this Sermon, for the translation of which we are indebted to 
the pen of an accomplished lady — not only from the beauty and originality of the 
views which are embodied and eloquently enforced in it^ but on account of the 
peculiar interest which (especially "at this time) attaches itself to the name of the 
excellent and sifted author. The subject is one that seems to us highly appropriate 
to the pages of this Journal. 

must 



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1849.] Christianity in Harmony with our Faculties^ 35 

must return to dust> and bis living soul, his immortal spirit, which 
xhall^ retuim untQ God who gave it — man, in the fullness of his 
nature, is known to God. This admirable body, at once so strong 
and so feeble, with its wonderful organs, its mmost structure, a 
labyrinth of science, wherein observation loses itself, its delicate 
fibres, whose action escapes the most learned and sometimes the 
most cruel experience, all this organized matter which God has 
thought fit to serve for a time as the instrument of our soul, is 
laid bare before him ; and the Psalmist was right when, in his 
magnificent thanksgiving, he said to God,- My bones are not hid 

from thee; though I be made secretly and fashioned beneath in the 
earth, thine eyes did see my substance, yet being imperfect ; and in 

thy book were all my members written God knoweth 

whereof we are made. And our soul, the faculties it is endowed 
witli, its amount of reason, its force of sensibility, its length of 
memory, the delicacy of its moral sense, and power of its religious 
instinct, and the ardour of imagination, and the reciprocal action 
of temperament and habit, of nature and education, the degree of 
influence possessed by the soul over the body, and that still more 
mysterious tyranny exercised by the physical being over the 
moral being — all these secrets which are often unfaUiomable for 
us who bear them in ourselves, are no secrets for God. Our 
immortal soul is his work as well as our perishable body, and 
God knoweth whereof we are made. 

I pause to enlarge upon this reflection of tlie royal prophet, 
which is taken from one of his most sublime compositions. 
David applies the words of the text especially in a spiritual sense, 
the idea being otherwise familiar to his genius, and ofi;en re* 
peated in hfs poems. His faith and piety were moved by the 
gravity of this principle. It may be said indeed that religion is 
wholly influenced by this principle, and you do away in a manner 
with the notion of a Divine Creator if you hesitate to admit that 
he knows his creation. Providence rests upon this principle ; the 
direction of the world is only possible on the condition of its being 
known, and known in detail, to the extent that, according to Christ, 
tJie very hairs of our head are all numbered. Moral responsibility 
rests upon this principle; the judgment of mankind is only 
feasible on the condition of mankind being known, and if every 
intention of our hearts, each look of our eyes, each word of our 
lips, be not laid bare before God, how shall he ask account of us 
of all our ways ? Even Redemption rests upon this principle ; 
this invaluable and immense remedy, ofiered for the evil which is 

. the canker of humanity both during life and in death, was only 
practicable on the condition of that evil being known ; and if 
God, by his supreme knowledge had not known the amouiU of 

D 2 sin 



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36 Christianity in Hannony with our Faculties. [July, 

sin upon earth, how should he have known that for counterpoise 
were required the cradle of Bethlehem and the qross of Calvary ? 

My brethren, God knoweth whereof we are made. 

From this principle and the considerations deduced from it, I 
would wish to prove to you that the religion which has been given 
us by that God who knoweth whereof we are made, must be 
suitable to our nature. If, then, Christianity be divine, if it be 
not an invention of human genius, but a gift of grace : if it be 
not a mere progression of our wisdom, but a direct revelation, 
Christianity must of necessity be appropriate to our faculties, an 
intimate and simple connection must exist between the truths of 
the Gospel and ttie attributes of man. This is what I wish to 
study with you to-day. Man being gifted with reason, imagina- 
tion, conscience, and sensibility, 1 wish to show you how pe^ctly 
in harmony Christianity is with these elements of our soul, and we 
will afterwards examine what use man should make of a religion 
which was formed expressly for himself. 

I. Man is a reasonable being. He feels himself created for 
knowledge, and he accepts ignorance only against his will. He 
rushes towards light wherever he perceives it glimmering ; and if 
he allow himself too often to be led astray by deceptive rays, 
these errors even are a proof that he values and instinctively seeks 
light. The sphere of his reason is bounded, it is true ; whatever 
object it propose to itself in its reflections, calculations, or 
experience, towards whatever point of the intellectual compass it 
be directed, it will soon be repelled by its own barrier and must 
confess itself unable to pass or overcome it ; it vaguely feels that 
more brilliant lights await it in another phase of existence, and 
thence the ingenious temerity, thence the ardour which carries 
man towards unattainable knowledge: thence that curious dis- 

Eroportion between our means of learning and our ambition for 
nowledge. There is nothing in heaven, or on earth, in life, and 
in death, in God and in man, there is nothing that our reason 
does not seek to penetrate. To such a point is man a reasonable 
being ; he wishes to be so indeed more than he can be ; he wishes 
at all risks to acquire knowledge, and knowledge often of whatever 
kind. 

God knoweth whereof we are made, and the religion he has 
given us is a science. 

In whatever aspect you may consider Christianity, you will 
find in it all the characteristics composing a positive science, all 
the elements which oblige the human mind to reflect and study. 
Considered as a history, Christianity dates from the very cradle 
of mankind, and descends to us from generation to generation ; 
the first sinner heard the first promise of salvation ; from age to 

age 



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1849.] Christianity in Harmony with our JFaculties. 37 

age the light of Him who was able to say lam the light of the 
worlds seems to be dawning in the horizon ; the patriarchs are his 
precursors ; the prophets his witnesses ; the old covenant is but 
the preparation of his coming. From that time forward, from 
the foot of his cross and the brink of his grave, the Church gains 
ground unceasingly, and the Gospel is so thoroughly entwined in 
the fate of nations, that since the foundation of Christianity it is 
no longer possible to write a page of history without its being 
mentioned. Considered as a pnilosophy, Christianity furnishes a 
solution to the greatest problems which have occupied the 
human mind. Christianity gives a divine answer to every human 
inquiry ; and alone, of all the systems of religion which have 
made mankind progress and reflect, Christianity is compete, and 
leaves nothing beyond the pale of the faith it mstils. From the 
Infinity of God to the nature of man, from eternity down to your 
own existence which endures but for a moment, from sovereign 
happiness down to your happiness and to your tears, from divine 
perfection to the very least of your virtues, all finds an explanation 
in Christianity. Revelation, which contains all this, is an inex- 
haustible mine of which no eye has yet seen all the treasures. 
Faith, seconded even by the most humble, by the most sublime 
genius, may always find something fresh to study ; and St. Paul, 
doubtless, was right when he said to the Corinthians that among 
them he determined not to know anything save Jesas Christ and him 
crucijled; but this indeed is knowing all. Man is a reasonable 
being, and his religion is a science. 

II. Man is never satisfied with reality, or with what he is ; he 
occupies his mind with possibilities, or with what he may be. 
Man, gifted with reason, is gifted also with imagination ; this is 
not a distinct faculty, if you will : it is but the action of his 
intellect It signifies little if you admit that such an exercise of 
the mind be general, and that all men, though doubtless in very 
various degrees, be gifted with imagination. Who has not 
allowed himself to be cradled by the dreams of his fancy ? Who 
is there, who, when looking into himself, has not been moved in 
counting over the treasures of afiection, happiness, and hope he 
bears within him ? Who has not quitted in idea the narrow 
miserable fate allotted to him, and basked in the sunshine of his 
own imagination ? Who has not pictured to himself this world 
of weariness and deception, calumny and misfortune, of mourn- 
ing and separation, this world in which evil is paramount, changed 
into another world without misery, without lassitude, or afSiction, 
or graves? Whether confused or distinct, studied or spon* 
taneous, whether rare or frequent, these pictures — do not doubt 
it — ofler themselves to every mind. There is something in our 

soul 



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38 Christianity in Harmony with our Faculties, [July, 

soul and much in our life which preyents us from being satisfied 
with this life, and which renders us all in turn painters and 
poets, to picture and promise to ourselves more elevated, more 
brilliant destinies which shall suit us better. This power of the 
soul it is which lends to the fine arts, to eloquence, to poetry all 
their charm. When a man of genius makes you feel the 
influence of art, when an eloquent expression enchants and excites 
you, when some holy and pure poetry touches your heart, — 
consider well ; the impression you receive ever consists in being 
transported for a time out of the present and actual world into 
an imaginary world, into a time of being which is not or is no 
longer; and you receive this impression solely because your 
imagination responds to that of the painter, the orator, or the 
poet ; your imagination follows his, and you are carried away into 
the regions of fantasy. 

But God knoweth whereof we are made, and the religion he 
has given us is in itself poetry. 

What, my brethren, is more poetical than Christianity ? 
What is there which so well harmonizes with that innate senti- 
ment of the beautiful we all possess ? And what influence is 
equal to that of faith for the cultivation and encouragement of 
tins feeling ? I spoke of art : Christianity has inspired the arts 
for centuries, and they have not yet exhausted it ; tiiat they have 
often badly interpreted it is not the fault of Christianity ; and the 
treasures of beauty it offers are so rich that even when repre- 
sented falsely, beauties are found unknown to paganism. I spoke 
to you of eloquence. Christianity has endowed the world with a 
new eloquence, as it has enriched it with a new architecture : and 
only when speaking of the Gospel has modem genius competed 
with that of antiquity, and cannot fear rivalry. I spoke to you of 
poetry : my brethren, the only poem that can bear comparison 
with those bequeathed to us by antiquity, and which carries away 
the palm from those masterpieces — ^at all events as regards 
grandeur — is a biblical poem, a Christian poem. But why do I 
quote as examples these wonders of the human mind ? The 
humblest Christian, with his Bible in his hand, is a poet, and has 
an inexhaustible treasure of poetry at his disposal, from the most 
touching passages to the most elevated and sublime, whether he 
weep with Joseph forgiving his brothers, or mingle with an 
angel-chorus when repeating the accents of a David, au Asaph, 
or an Isaiah. The humblest Christian, with the help of his faith, 
lays hold on the past, and pictures to himself the scenes of the 
Gospel; or, anticipating the future, imagines on earth and in 
heaven, and for the day even of his death, scenes whose grandeur 
and beauty make tlie hnest efforts of art pale beside them ; and 

when 



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1849.] Christianity in Harmony with our Faculties, 39* 

when these visions of the night have vanished, which took him so 
far away from the world and the present hour, it is sufficient 
that he be able to say with St. Paul, whether it was in the body I 

cannot telly or whether out of the body My brethren, man 

is endowed with imagination, and his religion is essentially 
poetical. 

in. Man was not placed in this world merely for the exercise 
of his reason and the research of truth, for the cultivation of his 
imagination and the research of the beautiful ; he must, above all, 
seek and practise good ; in other words, man is a moral beins. 
He is so manifestly this by force and nature, that a man devoid 
of conscience is no more to be found than a man without religion. 
In the midst of the prodigious diversity presented by human life 
on om* globe, in every degree of barbarism or civilization, under 
the influence of every kind of worship, upon whatever basis he rest 
his right of property, whatever circle he nave traced for his family, 
man ever feels his conscience alive to the inseparable notions of 
good and evil ; in the abysses of his soul man ever hears a mighty 
voice declaring to him, "Behold good, and behold evil ; from the 
moment he puts foot on earth ana be^ns to walk, man sees ever 
rising at his side and walking with him these two terrible com- 
panions of his journey, good and evil. And what indefatigable 
efforts has he not made to distinguish correctlv the one from the 
other, and too often, alas I what mistaken erorts I How many 
masters have offered to teach him this great lesson, and give him 
a light to illumine his conscience which they pretended inex- 
tinguishable ! How many laws has he not framed for himself as 
laws of conscience, without perceiving that, in promulgating them,' 
he pursued a mistaken path, and was seeking in his blinded con- 
science the very light tnat was wanting to it I These powerless 
attempts which God has taken care should not lead to despair, 
and the corrective of which lies in the principle that of every one 
shall be asked according to that which has been given him, are 
striking proofe that man is naturally a conscientious being, since 
in the place of real virtues, when he is ignorant of them, he exacts 

from himself factitious virtues, with which he rests satisfied 

God knoweth whereof we are made, and the religion he has given 
us is a moral system. 

The moral system given to the world by Christianity is dis- 
tinguished by three special features, which must excite the admi- 
ration of every sincere believer and every serious mind. This 
morality is not a distinct article of the Christian religion, which 
may be detached from its precepts and separated from the whole ; 
on the contrary, the morality of the Gospel is found throughout 
the Gospel ; the notion of duty, the obligation of holiness, the 

search 



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40 Christianity in Harmony with our FactiUies, [July, 

search for improyement, stands out with such irresistible force in 
every word ot the book, in every fact of history, in every point of 
doctrine, that Christian faith withoat Christian works is like what 
the body becomes without life, that is to say, a corpse ; that is to 
say, nothing; faith toithout works is dead. Then again, this 
morality alone is all-sufficing, and teaches the obligations of man 
in every relation of life, and in death as well as in life. In its 
law as well as in its dogma Christianity is a plenitude, and it is 
impossible, in spite of the inextricable confusion of man's destinies 
in this world, it is impossible that a man, whoever he may be, 
shall find opportunity to say. Here is a day in the midst or my 

days, and tne Gospel does not teach me my duty for this day 

Lastly, and this is the most curious feature of our law ; Christianity 
does not lay hold of man by the holiness of his nature, by the 
purity of his creation, to impel him towards primitive perfection ; 
it attaches itself, on the contrary, to the greatness of man's fall ; 
it speaks to him of his weakness, in order to restore to him his 
strength ; it points out to him the abyss in order to draw him back 
to heaven ; it teaches him to despise himself, in order that he 
may end by loving himself ; in a word, it begins by convincing 
man of sin, and reserves to itself to convince him later of regenera- 
tion. My brethren, the wisdom of God is visible here ; the soil 
must be dressed before good seed can take root, it will then bring 
forth fruits of perfection and palms of immortality. 

Man is a conscientious being, and his religion is a system of 
morality. 

IV. Virtue would prove impracticable to man were he not 
endowed with sensibility, and virtue finds in love its most natural 
and elevated expression ; man is a being of affection ; man is 
created sensible, and in spite of the excesses of egotism and anger, 
which we remember with sadness, I do not fear to affirm, that a 
human life has never been spent without love ; I do not fear to 
affirm that every heart of man has loved, that every eye has been 
moistened at some time or other with tears of emotion, affection, 
or pity. Destined by his Creator for domestic life and society, 
placed in this world m a state of existence, so planned that 
solitude becomes impossible, and that he must inevitably mix 
with his fellow creatures, it was necessary that man should bear 
within himself an instinct of love, and that his natural inclination 
should lead him to love. And, indeed, one of the most admirable 
points of harmony which our world presents to us is the secret and 
intimate connection of our most sacred duties and tenderest ties; 
a touching reciprocity exists between our conscience and our 
sensibility, an exchange of holiness and joy is established between 
them ; our virtues become simple acts of affection, contributing to 

our 



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1849.] CkHgtianity in Harmony with our Faculties, 41 

our happiness, and our affection renders easy and delightful the 
sacrifices, subjection, and constancy which duty imposes upon us. 
We become better through the same means that enable us to 
love, and, on the other hand, our friendships and affections are 
purified by the trials of devotion, by the warmth of virtue. 

My brethren, God knoweth whereof we are made, and his reli- 
pon is a law of love. 

One of the greatest benefits conferred on the world by the 
Gospel was to teach man how to love. To love is easy enough, 
but to love according to one's duty is less so. Thus when pagan 
antiquity often exhibits to us some of the noblest affections earned 
to excess^ as patriotism, for instance, we find that even by that 
very excess these affections lead to hardness of heart instead of 
pity, and eventually change to egotism. M.an then loved without 
knowing how to love. The Gospel, by its mild and practical 
lessons, above all by the example of our Divine Master himself — 
the Gospel, which regulates all our instincts and powers, regulates 
also our affections; it assigns to each its value, degree, and 
season ; it ranges them all in their several order ; some are made 
to serve as counterpoise to others, and are thus prevented from 
injuring or crushing one another, or being led away to mistaken 
or unjust preferences ; they are tempered without being equalized ; 
without being chilled they are restrained within proper limits, and 
their action directed without being compressed ; they are held 
together and sanctioned by the common bond of charity, by the 
influence of that law which commands us to love our neighbour as 
ourselves. This is not all : as the heart of man is too vast for 
man to fill it, the Gospel presents to him a fresh object for his 
love — God, God himself; and reducing all religion, all worship 
to love, the Gospel tells us to love God with all our heart, with 
all oiu* strength, and with all our thoughts. And as just motives 
for this love, the Gospel lays before us the creation with its 
wonders, Providence with its cares, redemption with its mercies, 
immortality and its hopes. All this is expressed by the Gospel 
in one single line — God first loved us. Only love is required as 
a return for so much love, and Christianity teaches us that we 
have always lived long enough when we have loved enough. 

My brethren, behold man, and behold his religion; what 
harmony between them 1 Man is endowed with reason, imagina- 
tion, conscience, and sensibility; God knoweth whereof we are 
made ; our religion includes science, poetry, morality, and a law 
of love. If then the harmony of our nature and our religion be 
so complete, how comes it that its effect is so often lost ? This 
we have still to examine. 

One single cause explains how a religion otherwise so con- 
formable 



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42 ChrManUy in Harmony with our Faculties. [Jiily» 

formable to our fiicultie8» our instincts, and our feelbgs, should 
often exercise but a feeble influence on those even who profess 
and admire it. It is that they make use of their religion, they 
believe and practise it, if we may so speak, with only one of th^ 
faculties instead of all ; they are Christians, some through reason, 
others through imagination ; some through conscience, others 
again through sensibility ; and the consequence is, if I may reduce 
my thought to figures, that they are Christians through a fraction 
omy of tne faculties of their soul ; what remains neitner believes 
nor worships. Their Christianity then adopts the colouring of 
the faculty which has laid hold of it, and they possess and admire 
but a curtailed, disfigured Christianity, which must prove utterly 
powerless in supporting them in the great occasions of life and in 
the great shadows of death. 

Be religious through your reason only, and your religion will 
be insensibly reduced, perhaps without your perceiving it, to be 
but a course of history or a philosophical system. You will store 
your mind with one more science, you will have added nothing to 
your heart, your mind will be greatly enlightened, and you will 
learnedly discuss the truths of faith and the scenes of the Gospel, 
your heart will remain cold and unmoved. You will find a very 
curious epoch to study in the annals of mankind, viz., the mission 
of a Saviour and the establishment of Christianity ; you will meet 
with an historical personage whose life and death are deserving 
of great attention — Jesus Christ ; vou will find a collection of 
perfectly connected precepts, Christian doctrine ; a masterpiece of 
philosophy >effacing every system of antiquity, and which has 
inspired every modem system ; a complete uieory, which embraces 
as much as the human mind can comprehend, and whose prin- 
ciples have placed the social condition of humanity on a new 

footing And reasoning in this way, all these convictions 

will result from science and not religion ; your belief will be his- 
torical and philosophical instead of being fervent and pious ; it 
will prove listless instead of being lively, sterile instead of fruitful ; 
it will occupy your intellect without finding its way to your heart. 
I know not what it may profit you for this life, still less how it 
will profit you in death ; I see that you are learned and wise 
much more than a Christian. You are religious through reason 
only ; you possess but a science. 

fie religious only through your imagination, and you will in- 
evitably fell into mysticism ; your belief will be a dream, a 
chimera, a fantasy : it will be satisfied with words ; it will be 
pufied up with emptiness ; it will feed on pious deceptions ; it will 
gain a strange and perilous taste for the marvellous ; it will fear 
to understand ; it will avoid light, and willingly envelope itself in 

cunning 



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1849.] Christianity in Harmony with our Faculties. 43 

cunning and convenient darkness ; as the High Priest of Israel, 
who entered once a year into the sanctuary, it dares not gaze on 
the ark of the covenant but through a cloud of incense ; and at 
length by seeking such a quintessence of truth, your mysticism 
will become error. And do not imagine this extreme point so 
very difficult of attainment When imaginaticm rules faith, we 
soon fall into a curious habit of exaggeration, which connsts in 
thinking the Gospel not sufficiently beautiful as it is. Without 
exactly confessing it, we begin to embellish, and in the secret 
recesses of our heart we delight in darkening its mystmes, in- 
creasing its holiness, adding yet more shades to its colouring, 
heightening its grandeur ; we take pleasure in adding yet more 
innocence to the manger, yet more agony to the cross ; we finisl 
by introducing into Christianity supposed severity or mercies ; wi 
render the grave more gloomy, heaven more beautiful, hell more 
hideous, and by means of thus losing ourselves in the clouds we 
have drawn around us, by means of resting upon mere shadows, 
these shadows vanish when we would fain seek ihQ foundation of 
our faith. In the midst of these reveries we have taken a distaste 
to the realities of life and religion ; we have made to ourselves a 
poetical Christianity, which is but badly applicable to the events 
of everyday life ; we are poets and artists in our religion much 
more tlian Christians ; we are religious only through imagination ; 
our religion is but mystical, is but poetical. 

Be religious from motives of conscience only, and you will 
exchange the name of servant, and bought of Christ, for that of a 
just or honourable man. My brethren, our conscience is always 
that of our country and our age ; the rirtues of the world in which 
we take our place, the virtues of the time in which we live, are 
those which our conscience without further examination exalts and 
approves ; and if you reduce your reli^on to be but a system of 
morality, which will inevitably happen if you seek it with the help 
of conscience only, you will practise merely what is practised 
around you ; you will honour in your own conduct that which is 
honoured ; you will applaud according as the wind shall bring 
you the applause of the da^, and satisfied, with yourselves to that 
extent, you will admit no mrther obligation of perfection. Your 
religion will become of convenient rigour, and you will imagine 
yourselves sufficiently religious without a positive belief, without 
a worship, without prayers, and without communion. What is 
religion worth, in fact, if probity suffice, and if, witliout believing 
or professing anything, conscience afford all the requisite resources 
for life and death, with all their changes and chances ; if we 
know how to sacrifice and devote ourselves in the hour of need ; 
if we know, what is still more difficult to learn, how to resign our- 
selves, 



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44 Christianity in Harmony with our Faculties, [July, 

selves, and hope ? But how often has this been proved I This 
morality without £uth abandons us when most required — ^in adver- 
sity, in neglect, in mourning, in death — and when one or other of 
these storms arises, and envelopes and shakes us, we regret, alas I 
too late, that we sought for strength in ourselves and not in Christ, 
not in God. There is no lon^r time ; religion is absent ; we are 
not Christians ; we are moralists ; we are religious only through 
moralitv. 

Lastly, be religious only with your sensibility, and love l)ecoming 
the spring instead of the crowning point of the work ; love, absorb- 
ing all — reason, ima^nation, conscience — ^without being able to 
replace all, love will become so vapid, loose, and shadowy, that it 
no longer deserves its name, that it loses its power and beauty, that 
it possesses no more true charity, and degenerates into a sickly 
habit of sterile emotion. The usual feature of this sonorous and 
empty charity is to be greatly moved, at least outwardly and in 
appearance, and to do but little ; sympathy and tears are showei*ed 
on the miserable and wicked, but nothing more is done for them, 
and the sight of so much misery is thought too painful for such 
profound commiseration. This sort of religious sen^bility has 
caused God to be loved with an affection akin to sacrilege ; has 
caused Jesus to be loved even to profanation ; and more frequently 
still has mankind been loved with such fervour and pity — that no 
love remained for a family, for children, friends, or benefactors. 
These vulgar affections, felt by the generality of men, cherished 
by the generality of Christians, what are they indeed for a heart 
whose vast charity embraces with burning compassion the whole 
of the human race ! This sort of sensibility loves from afar, and 
forgets the natural family at its side to pour forth its interest only 
upon the great family of men, who are all brothers. Sometimes 
taking a still more vague and mistaken direction, this sensibility 
loves God to the point of loving no one else, to the degree of 
crushing all other affection, to the degree of being selfishly lost in 
ecstacy and rejoicing at the death of a fellow-creature, because 
then the love for the creature is no longtjr put in competition with 
that for the Creator ; and when we find faith with such hardness 
of heart, when we would fain have the duties of earth and family 
ties remembered, we are languidly told that we must love our 
relations in God. . . . What an impious play on words ! what 
irreligious confusion of thought 1 what a corruption of the pure 

instinct of sensibility I My brethren, sooner or later we are 

entrapped in these snares of vanity if we try to love otherwise than 
man can love — ^when we assimilate our love for our neighbour with 
our love for God — when we refuse to leave God in His place and 
man in his. It has been thought that sensibility might engender 

religion. 



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1849.] Christianity in Harmony mth our Faculties, 45 

religion, and religion thus becomes a mere reverie of sensi- 
bility 

Christians, behold the shoals of danger, but the port of refuge 
is at hand. When you cultivate your religious sense, and lay 
hold of the Christian faith with only one of your faculties, the 
faculties which you leave undisturbed, forgotten, or idle, become 
discontented with this piety, in which they take no part, and rebel 
and cast it oiF. Recollect to make use of all your faculties 
then when appropriating •Christianity to yourselves ; work in good 
earnest ; unite, bring together all your faculties, that through 
their general assistance you may believe. If it, be possible let 
not one of them predominate in your profession of Christianity ; 
if, indeed, one or other must prevail, if you be more of a logician 
than a poet, more a moralist than a being of aflection, at all 
events do not sacrifice the weaker to the more active influences. . . 
Encourage the weak to resist the strong ; and as you are com- 
manded by God to love Him with all your strength, so seek his 
truth likewise with all your strength. Let a fruitml and salutary 
harmony enlighten your reason, elevate your imagination, sanctify 
your conscience, and purify and excite your sensibility. This is 
asking, it would seem, very much, but not too much. God has 
not endowed our soul with such admirable faculties for them to 
be at variance with one another ; he established peace between 
them, and we ourselves are the authors of this intestine discord, by 
our ambitious partiality for one or the other. Try then to main- 
tain or renew the divine equilibrium in these internal qualities, and 
your reason in its researches, your imagination in its flights, your 
conscience in its warnings, your sensibility in its ardour will then 
make you discover, believe, profess, cherish, one only and the same 
religion. Studies, poetry, morality and love, all will constantly 
lead you to the delightful certainty of one only God, our common 
Father, one only Christ, our universal Saviour, one only revelation 
as the complement of our faculties, one only Church on earth, and 
one only immortality in heaven ; all will lead to this delightful 
thought that Christianity is sufficient for us, since it was given us 
by that All bountiful God who knovoeth whereof we are made, and 
who will equally well know, at the moment of our death, how 
to confirm our salvation, and how to receive us into his paternal 
bosom, when on the threshold of eternity. 



RECOLLECTIONS 



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( 46 ) [July, 



RECOLLECTIONS OF THE EAST, 

ILLUSTRATIVE OF CERTAIN 

PASSAGES IN THE HISTOKICAL BOOKS OP THE OLD TESTAMENT. 
By Mrs. Postans. 

In perusing the historical books of the Old Testament, it is 
impossible for a reader acquainted with the East to be otherwise 
than powerfully interested and impressed with the numerous points 
of resemblance between the detailed facts given in the sacred 
writings, and his own experiences of the manners and usages of 
the people among whom he has journeyed or sojourned ; and in 
some instances the descriptions, so earnestly yet so simply and 
truthftdly given by the inspired penmen, seem but as grapnic por- 
traitures of scenes of which the reader has been himself an eye- 
witness, so fresh are they, and so unchanged is the aspect of 
Eastern manners. 

This observation will particularly apply to the second chapter 
of the Book of Joshua, where we read of the concealment of the 
spies by the woman Rahab, whose house was on the walls of 
tfericho, having a flat roof, on which she dried the stalks of flax, 
beneath which were hid the men of Joshua. In every walled town 
of India may such a house be seen with its small window looking 
over the open country, and every fact in the narrative given, the 

* shutting of the gate,' when it was dark, a precaution always 
observed in Eastern cities ; the visit of Rahab to the spies, when 

* she came up unto them upon the roof,' by means of stairs always 
communicating from the lower rooms of Eastern houses with the 
flat roofs, on which the inhabitants lay cattle forage to dry in the 
hot sunshine ; the letting the men * down by a cord through the 
window,' the one used being probably the cord with which Rahab 
let down her water-vessels morning and evening into the neigh- 
bouring well, until ' she bound the scarlet line in the window ' 
(scarlet in the East being a symbol of triumph and rejoicing), 
afibrds a graphic portraiture of a scene, which, if re-enacted in 
our time, would in every particular be in strict accordance with 
the manners of the day. 

Wliile alluding to the symbolic colour of the line directed to 
be placed in the window of Rahab by the spies, we may observe 
that this same scarlet is always used in India, both as flags to 
the temples and as personal exhibitions of security and joy, as 

seen 



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1849.] Recollections of the East. 47 

seen in the habit of the people to scatter cinnabar, during the 
Feast of the Hooli, and to wear necklaces of scarlet silk or worsted 
thread on all great Hindoo festivals, so that ' a scarlet thread ' 
would be very speedily procurable, even, as we see it was, with 
these spies ; and I would also draw remark to the comparison that 
may be made, as concerns the colour blue. In Num. xv. 38, 
Moses is commanded to direct the children of Israel, 'that 
they put upon the fringe of the borders a riband of blue ' as a 
memorial : upon the golden altar of the taberfiacle ' they shall 
spread a cloth of blue,' we read in Num. iv. 11 ; and the cloth 
covering of the tabernacle was * wholly of blue,' as we see in v. 4. 
With the natives of the East blue is the colour of protection. On 
first visiting Sindh, I enquired why the favourite mares of the 
Belooche chiefs had necklaces of blue beads ; I was told, to pro- 
tect them from * the evil eye.' My water-drawer alwajrs saw that 
the one blue ball was securely tied round the throat of his little 
bullock, and a Hummall in my service, in India, who had been a 
sufferer from a stroke of tiie land-wind, at once tied a blue cotton 
thread round his ancle, on which he said the evil spirit that tor- 
mented him would be obliged to fly. The turquoi^ stone is often 
worn, in consequence of its colour, as a protection to the wearer 
against disease and evil influences. 

In Josh. xxi. we read of the eight-and-forty cities given by lot 
unto the Levites, and with all we see the mention of their 

* suburbs.' The suburbs of Eastern cities form one of tiieir 
most remarkable characteristics. It is not only that they are 
collections or extensions of buildings beyond the walls, but that 
persons very important for number and utility reside there, who 
could not by reason of uncleanness be admitted to the city. The 
suburbs of the city of Jooneer, in Western India, probably 
resembled the suburbs of these cities of the Levites. Families of 

* Mars ' were there, in little huts formed of bamboos, over which 
were cast garments, turban cloths, and waistbands ; these ' Mars ' 
eat of things unclean, and of offal such as was commanded by 
Moses to be burned by the children of Israel without the camp, as we 
read in Lev. viii. 17. Lepers were in the suburbs of Jooneer, in 
separation from their fellows, as we read in Lev. xiii. 46, ' he shall 
dwell alone ; without the camp shall his habitation be.' There 
were also Dairs, outcast Hindoos, whose office it was to remove 
the carcases of beasts, an office rendering tiiem unclean, as we 
read was so witii the Levites in Lev. xi. 39, ' And if any beast of 
which ye may eat die, he tiiat toucheth tiie carcase thereof shall 
be unclean until the even.* And we know, that with the Jewish 
cities of old, as with the Hindoo of the present, cattle, bullocks^ 
goats, asses, and camels abounded, people doubtless were set 

apart, 



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48 Recollections of the Eatst. [July, 

apart, as these Dairs are to remove the carcases of those that 
died, that uncleanness should not fall upon the people. The hide 
of an animal was unclean to the Jews, as it also is to the Hindoos, 
who, to avoid its contact, use silken reins and slippers of doth : 
those who slay beasts allowed to he eaten by Moslems, also live 
in the suburbs, as well as dancing girls, Kalatnees, or gipsies of 
the East, and, in short, all persons, whose indiscriminate inter- 
course with others renders them unclean. When the character of 
an eastern city is considered, its crowded houses, narrow streets, 
and extreme heat, these rules, as sanitary measures, seem remark- 
ably proper, and from what I have said of the suburbs of Jooneer, 
the reader will consider it probable, that without the walls of 
the forty-eight cities of the Levites, a similar population was 
gathered. 

In Ruth iii. 4 we read of Naomi's instruction to Ruth, touching 
her behaviour to her kinsman, so that when Boaz laid down on 
the threshing-floor, Ruth should go in 'and uncover his feet.' 
Natives of the East care little for sleeping accommodation, but 
rest, where weariness overcomes them, lying on the ground. 
They are, however, careful to cover their feet, and to do this 
have a chndda or sheet of coarse cloth, that they tuck under the 
feet, and drawing it up over the body suffer it to cover the face 
and head. An Oriental seldom changes his position, and we are 
told Boaz did so because he ' was afraid ;' the covering of the feet 
in ordinary cases is consequently not disturbed. I have frequently 
marked the singular effect of this custom of sleeping when I have 
been riding out of a native city before dawn ; figures with their 
feet so covered lying like monumental effigies on the pathway, and 
in the open verandahs of the houses, a practice at once showing the 
necessity of closing the city gates when it is dark, as we read was 
the case at Jericho in Josh, ii., where probably the same habit 
obtained. Neither men nor women alter their dress at night, and 
the labouring classes or travellers, in a serai, where there are men, 
women and children, rest together, the men with their feet covered, 
the women, wrapped in their veils or sarees. 

In ver. 15 we read, that Boaz said to Ruth, after she had risen 
up, before ' one could know another ' (a very usual habit in the 
East, where, before dawn, from every bouse in a native city, the 
song of the grinders may be heard, the women being engaged in 
grinding the corn to make cakes upon the hearth), * Bring the 
veil thou hast upon thee, and hold it. And when she held it, he 
measured six measures of barley, and laid it on her.' The veil 
of th^ women of the East is a piece of brightly coloured linen 
or silk, many yards in length, with borders at either side, and 
embroidery at each end. The end of this veil is secured upon 

the 



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1849.] Recollectionsof the East. 49 

the waist, and then wound many times round the body, until 
perhaps six yards in length only remains ; part of this is inge- 
niously folded into a number of full plaits that fall gracefully 
from tne waist to the feet, and the rest cast over the head, where it 
forms a partial veil, and is regulated at the wearer's pleasure. 
The women usually carry grain from one apartment to another in 
this part of the saree, uncovering the head to do so, and I have 
Very frequently seen them apply it to the same purpose as a win- 
nowing basket ; so that the using it to convey the * measures of 
barley ' to her mother-in-law by Ruth, is exactly the same use 
that the woman of India, did she require it, would apply her veil 
to in our times. 

In 1 Sam. x. 27, we read, *• But the children of.Belial said. How 
shall this man save us? and they despised him and brought him no 
presents.' The bringing presents in the East is ever a token of 
respect. It has occurred to me, when associated with the repre- 
sentatives of the British Government in India, to observe this, 
under many varieties. When I arrived, as a visitor to the court of 
the Nuwaub of Junagarh, the chelah, or favourite servant of the 
Prince, fully armed in Rajpoot fashion came to the serai, in which 
we lodsed, accompanied by a train of servants bearing salvers, on 
each of which folded in a square of linen cloth, was a boddice, a 
saree, and a piece of fine muslin, sent by each of the ladies of the 
hareem. Meer Alii Moorad of Khyrpoor, in Upper Sindh, when I 
arrived in his dominions, sent me a horse fiiUy caparisoned in 
Belooche fashion, which, according to courtly etiquette, was 
placed for a day in our stables and then returned. Princes 
usually offer a pair of Cashmere shawls as ^ presents,' a Rajpoot 
offers a hookah, and a Belooche a sword. The ordinary mer- 
chants of the city of Shikarpdor came to the British agency, 
followed by a servant bearing a salver, with kismus (raisins), 
almonds, and sugar-candy, the whole covered with a handkerchief 
of English printed cotton ; and on leaving Goozerat, the Nuwaub 
of Cambay sent me a tray, covered with sweetmeats, bottles of 
rose-water and attar, and in the centre a square of rich kinkaub, 
the produce of the looms of Aurungabad. It will be seen, there- 
fore, that the sending present to those who are the objects of 
respect is universal among the higher classes, and it is equally so 
among the poor. We read in 1 Sam. xvi. 20, that ' Jesse took 
an ass laden with bread, and a bottle of wine, and a kid, and sent 
them by David his son unto Saul.' Thus did the Shepherd of 
Bethlehem bring presents to the king of Israel. In travelling in 
India, our tents pitched in the vicinity of a small village inhabited 
entirely by cultivators, the halting place being selected by the 
servants for the convenience of procuring water, butter, milk, and 

VOL. rv.— NO. VII. E firewood, 



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50 Becojlections of the East. [July, 

firewood, the patell or head man of the place scarcely allowed us 
to disTDOunt from our horses before he appeared, followed by his 
servant, bearing under his arm a young kid of the goats as a pre- 
sent to us as strangers, this being considered necessary before he 
could offer his services to procure that which was required. 

In ver. 18 we read of the varied accomplishments of David, the 
young shepherd of Bethlehem ; he was ' cunning in playing, and a 
mighty valiant man, and a man of war.' While on the borders 
of Beloochistan I had frequent occasion to remark this somewhat 
lingular combination of character. The Belooches, armed to the 
tieeth with sword, shield, and matchlock, will bring their flocks 
from pasture to pasture, tending them as shepherds ; they will 
again form into, bodies, and mSce fierce attacks on towns and 
villages, or join the armies of independent chiefs, each Belooche 
* a mighty valiant man, and a man of war/ And at midnight, by 
their fires of crackling thorns upon the desert, while the moon 
shines brightly in the canopy of heaven, these wild Belooches, 
each man with his sitarr, formed of a gourd strung with wires, 
will play with a ' cunning ' hand, strains of peculiar melody, sing- 
ing to them traditions of their land, and histories of the mountain 
chiefe. During4he Caubool campaign, and the excitement of the 
lower country, not an attack was made, not a body of men cut 
up, not a European oflScer slain, but the incident was chronicled 
by Belooche bards, and sung over their watch-fires, so that we see 
the accomplishments of David were such as might be found to 
exist in a shepherd's son of the present day in the East, and 
would be equally likely to attract the attention of the courtiers of 
a prince, who were anxious to soothe his distempered mind. 

In 1 Sam. xvii. 45, we read that David said to the Philistines, 
' Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a 
shield.' These are the arms common in the East. I have seen 
an Affghan not unlike what we may suppose the defier of the 
hosts of Israel to have been, a warrior six feet two in height, with 
masses of curling hair falling on his shoulders, and a turban of 
enormous size, heavy enough to resist any sabre cut. His arms, 
a spear with a long and tough bamboo handle, a Damascus blade 
cased in green Caubool leather, embroidered with verses of the 
Koran, and a shield of rhinoceros hide, bossed with gold ; and 
thus armed did Goliah boast ; but in 1 Sam. xvii. 50, we read, 
that ' David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling, and with 
^ stone.' The shepherd and cultivating class in India are par- 
ticularly expert in the use of the sling and stone. The shepherds 
use them to scare away dogs that would worry the young kids, 
and the cultivators to ward off the devastations of birds on their 
ripe grain. Immediately before the time of harvest, in each field, 

a temporary 



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1849.] Becollectiong of the Eatt. 51 

a temporary platform is erected, on which a watchman eits from 
dawn to eve, marking the coming of flights of parroquets and other 
destructive birds, wmie, as they wing their way over the field, he 
rends the air with cries, and a dozen slinss, each with its smooth 
e^Be, are heard whizzing in the air, while the missive, skilfully 
directed, never fails of its mark. On the banks of Lake Munchor, 
in Sindh, I recollect seeing the Sindhian peasants killing wild- 
ducks by the same means ; some of the horsemen who were our 
escort, regularly killed rock-pigeons with a sling and a stone as a 
provision for food, and sparrows also ; such was their skill in the 
use of this ancient and simple weapon. It may be remarked also 
with reference to 1 Sam. xvii. 40, that the shepherds of the East 
always carry a staff which they hold in its centre, the object of its 
use not being as a support, but to beat bushes and low brushwood, 
into which the flocks stray, and where snakes and other reptiles 
abound. 

In 1 Sam. xvii. 57, we read that the captain of the host took 
David, ^and brought him before Saul, with the head of the 
Philistine in his hand.' I recollect being at a small town, near 
Dwaka, on the coast of Kattiawar, where much excitement had 
prevailed, in conseouence of the daring violence committed by a 
bharwutteeah chiei, on whose head Government had set a price, 
but for many months he successfully evaded pursuit. At dawn 
one morning, however, my friend who commanded the detachment 
employed against the bandit was roused from his rest^ and on 

going to the door of his tent a Wagherie Tbuntsman) unrolled a 
eavy waist-belt, and from it fell the gory nead of the Bharwut- 
teeah chief. In tracking hog, the man had come upon the robber's 
lair ; he shot him as he slept, then drawing his sword, * cut off his 
head therewith,' and triumphantly brought the hideous trophy to 
the tent of his employer to claim his reward. 

In 1 Sam. xviii. 4 we read, ' and Jonathan stripped himself of 
the robe that was on him, and gave it to David.' In the East this 
manner of showing regard or approval is still very general. I recol- 
lect a tiger-hunting party held by Meer Alii Moorad in Upper 
Sindh, where that chief sat on a small tower with his personal 
friends to see the sport ; a Sindhian behaved most valiantly, killing 
a tigress and her cube, and the hero was brought up on the tower, 
when Meer Alli Moorad took from his neck a muslin scarf and 
bestowed it on the man, who felt himself distinguished above all 
honour and remunerated beyond all price. In ver. 7 we read — 
^ And the women answered one another as they played, and said, 
Saul has slain his thousands and David his ten tnousands.' The 
Mabratta women have a custom of thus answering each other in 
their songs, and the songs are usually triumphant records of the 

s 2 * heroic 



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52 Recollections of the East. [July, 

heroic deeds of Mahratta princes under the attacks of the Moslem 
sovereigns of Delhi. I recollect riding late one evening at 
Ahmed-Nuggur, a fort of great interest in the annals of Mahratta 
warfare, when I observed, crossing the open plain from the old 
city, a line of Mahratta women, oearing water- vessels on their 
heads, not grouped, as is usually their habit, for the purposes of 
gossip, but advancing in a line, and, as they came, they chaunted 
in chorus the history of the Chand Bebee ke Nuggur, and as 
eveiy fourth woman m the line ended a verse, the rest answered 
her m chorus, and thus they sung until the sounds of their triumph 
faded on the ear. In 2 Sam. xv. 1, we read that ' Absalom pre- 
pared him chariots and horses, and fifty men to run before him ;' 
this last portion of his retinue especially appei'taining to royal 
state. His highness the Rao of Cutch, whenever he came to visit 
us from the palace of the city of Bhooj to our house in camp, 
came without pomp, without the elephants or camels bearing drums, 
horsemen, or any of the state of ceremony, but before his horse ran 
some fifty footmen, vociferating his titles as he came, and who, as 
he dismounted, gathered round, shouting * Ram, Ram,' with one 
accord, and salaaming to the ground. iTie same numl>er of foot- 
men always preceded the son of the Nuwaub of Junaghir when he 
visited us, and the Chiefs of Rajpootana observed a similar 
etiquette to that * prepared ' by Absalom. 

In 2 Sam. xv. 2, we read, ' And Absalom rose up early, and 
stood beside the way of the gate.' On either side of the gates of 
eastern cities are guard-rooms, open to the street. Around the 
walls are suspended arms, shields, and matchlocks, and on the 
floor are spread small mats or rugs ; on these sit persons con- 
cerned in the government of the affairs of the city, the Daroga, or 
chief magistrate, and others. Here foreign news is first brought, 
and the departing cossid, or messenger, is questioned, as with staff 
and sandals in hand, he rapidly seeks the gate, to depart upon his 
way ; consequently, any man desiring popularity such as Absalom 
sought, would certainly plant himself on a spot so calculated for 
his purpose as ' the way of the gate.' 

In 2 Sam. xviii. 24, it is written, ' And David sat between the 
two gates ; and the watchman went up tx) the roof over the gate 
unto the wall, and lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold a 
man running alone.' This verse is very characteristic of the 
present manners of the people of the East. The gates of cities, 
as I remember those of Aurungabad, have generally guard-rooms 
on either side, as already described, and over the gate a chamber 
with an open window, to which steps from below communicate ; 
this again, on either side, is open to the parapet, running from 
baetion to bastion of the walls. , As David sat to hear news of 

Absalom, 



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1849.] RecolkcHms of the Ead. 53 

Absalom, so would any chief in our day, who desired the latest 
intelligence. The watchman, in like manner, would ascend to the 
room above the gate, or to the flat roof above that, again to gaze 
forth in search of those who would bring tidinss, and he who 
brought them would be a cossid or messenger, who, with a short 
staff in his hand, and his shoes bound in his girdle, would run 
swiftly, more swiftly over the bye ways of the East, and across its 
plains, intersected by deep nullahs or water channels, than could 
the horseman, compelled perhaps to a very circuitous route ; and 
the fact is, that these foot messengers form a distinct class in the 
East, are accustomed to the employment of messengers from youth, 
and are able to evade observation on their journey. During my 
residence in Upper Sindh, at the period of tne Caubool campaign, 
and the siege of Khelat, news was always brought by footmen 
' running alone.' When fearing remark, these cossids would hide 
under the bastard cypress bushes of the desert, and the danger 
once past, they arose and swiftly pursued their way, when the 
watchman from the gates of Shikarpoor would see them and 
announce their coming, while the nearly exhausted man ' came 
apace and drew near,' or a soldier would run forward and take 
the letter from him ; or perhaps he had no missive, but came to 
tell that which he had seen, as was the case with us when a tribe 
of Murrees intercepted and cut up one of oiu* detachments in the 
Murree Hills ; and this man who came having seen our people fall 
and our officers slain, ran, and brought the news, hoping for a rich 
reward. 

We see in ver. 33, that the king * went up to the chamber over 
the gate, and wept.' I have already mentioned the chamber over 
the gate of Roza, at Aurungabad, and here I was told that the 
Emperor Aurungzebe was in the habit of sitting, either alone or 
with his favourite, Musafir Sliah. This chamber window com- 
manded a view of all the environs of the city, and when I looked 
from it across the wide plains to the distant mountains, over the 
gardens of waving palms, and around on the magnificent archi- 
tectural remains ot palaces, towers, and fountains, I readily 
imagined that from such a situation did the heart- stricken king of 
Israel mourn the news brought to him by those who ^ came apace ' 
from the ' wood of Ephraim.' 

In 1 Kings xviii. 5 we read, that Ahab said to Oba(Uah, 
^ Go into the land, unto all fountains of water, and unto all 
brooks: peradventure we may find grass to save the horses 
and mules alive, that we lose not all the beasts.' The go- 
vernor so spoke, in consequence of the ' sore famine in Sa- 
maria.' This affliction was the result of a lack of the usual 
moisture necessary to give fertility to the earth : ^ there diall not 

be 



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54 ReeoUectiom of the East. [«Tuly, 

be dew nor rain the&e years/ was the decree of their great Cre- 
ator. Samaria, like all the land of Syria, was subject to hea^y 
dews, which as we see in Egypt, at the present day, supersede the 
necessity of that rain which in European countries is required to 
nourish the earth, and swell the seeds in her bosom, and therefore 
the Jews were stayed, when the mighty fiat went forth for the 
punishment of the rebellious people. But in India, these dews 
are uncommon, and if rain is withheld for two years, famine en- 
sues, the earth refusing to yield her increase. I have been in 
countries grievously afflicted by such seasons, when the land, like 
that of Samaria, suffered from a famine that was sore indeed ! 
This I witnessed both in Kattiawar and Cutch, neighbouring pro- 
vinces* At the usual time when rain was expected, early in the 
tiQonth of June^ the Rajputs of Cutch would consult their wise 
men, their seers, on the chances of rain ; time passing, they would 
go in bands with Brahmins and music to the tanks and their ad- 
joining temples, invoking Doorga in her form of Bhowani, the 
Hindu goddess of Fertility, and Vishnu, the Preserver, to aid them, 
and give rain to their rivers, and com to their lands. But as the 
heavens remained clear, hope by degrees foreook the people : the 
wells dried, and then the Banian women with their water-vessels 
were constrained to seek the beds of the rivers or nullahs (water- 
bourses) to raise from the little pools what water might remain, 
and these would soon fail. Then the wells over the few unfailing 
springs would be sealed and guarded, and women would walk, 
their water- vessels on their heads, and their little ones clinging to 
their garments, some miles to a distant spot near the hills to bring 
water to knead the cakes and fill the cruses, that stand each covered 
with its little earthen saucer by the door of a native house. Brah- 
mins, avaihiig themselves of the permission given in their books 
of ordinances, used sand instead of water for ablution ; dry grain 
was eaten instead of kneaded cakes, and the cattle were driven in 
flocks to the banks of the drying brooks, where a little grass yet 
remained to afford them sustenance. But the second year (and I 
remember three that succeeded each other without rain, during 
my residence in Cutch) brou^t consequences yet more terrible ; 
the price of grain placed it beyond the purchase of the poor, the 
brooks were no longer fringed with their little bright strip of ver- 
dure, the pools of the rivers were now but basins of dry sand, and 
famine in its hideous aspect stalked through the land. Mothers 
offered the infant children they could no longer feed for the price 
of a few measures of grain — families left the homes of their child- 
hood to wander forth to seek food in a distant province, and in 
tottering weakness perished as they went. The bones of cattle 
lay bleaching in the parching sun ; here and there a flight of crows 

or 



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1849.] Jtecollections of the East. 55 

or a band of hungry dogs tore away the flesh of the pocn* bullock, 
who feebly sought the nullah, where it had been accustomed to 
find refreshment, and sunk, on the path, its dying eye vainly turned 
to implore forbearance from the carrion brood, hungering and 
thirsting for their horrible banquet By degrees many died, some 
fled ; the Tillages were deserted, and when once again the heayens 
opened, and the rain descended, and the floods came, I rode by 
and saw villages deserted, their oil-mills broken, their cottages 
fallen to ruin, their earthen water-vessels broken on the path, and 
the gaunt dogs, who rushed furiously forth, the only remains of 
life to be seen among those homes once surrounded with cheerful 
gardens, and echoing to the happy sounds of the grinder's song. 

In ver. 28 of this chapter we read of the priests of Baal, that 
' they cried aloud, and cut themselves after their manner with 
knives and lancets, till the blood gushed forth upon them.' At a 
festival in honour of the goddess &M (one of the forms of Doorga 
in her character of the Avenger), bands of fanatics, girded round 
the loins, and preceded by tomtoms, parade in native cities (where 
our government has not power to prevent it, as in that strong hold 
of Brahmanism, Nassick), and as they go, wound themselves 
with knives, the pain of which the actoi*s are rendered insensible 
to, by the large quantities of bheng (prepared hempseed) and 
opium, commonly used by natives to dull nervous sensation; 
therefore, barbarous as the usages of the priests of Baal seem to 
have been, they were not more so than those of the worshippers of 
wood and stone in our time, of the deities, who sleep as ^ l>oorffa' 
is said to do in preparation for her festival of the Dusserah, wno 
journey, as according to Hindoo mythology Chrishna did from the 
groves of Vrij to Dwaka ; who pursue, as did the elephant-headed 
son of Bhowani ; or talk, as did the goddess, when she consoled 
the Monkey God, her favourite Huniman. 

In ver. 44 we read of the coming of rain, after the seasons of 
great drought, and its described aspect is similar to that which I 
have marked with much surprise bv the sea-coast in India. For 
days before the monsoon came on, the last season I was in Bombay^ 
the air and sky was bright and calm as in the cold season, for not 
a cloud was to be seen, but suddenly a mighty wind shook the 
harsh leaves of the palms, and sounded through their plumed 
heads, as if blowing through metal tubes, and the people sang 
and blew trumpets in their temples, for they knew this sound was 
that of ^ abundance of rain,' and preparations were at once made 
for it, by the people. Yet the sky was still bright, and the sun 
shone with its wonted splendour. A few days after this, a little 
cloud was seen in the west, so little that but for those who watched 
for it, it would have been wholly unobserved ; and tins increasing 

became 



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56 Recollections of the East. [July, 

became lurid and electric, the heayens were darkened, and at 
midnight 'there was a great rain/ so ereat, that the palm-trees 
fell crashing down upon the cottages of the toddy drawers, many 
houses were washed away, and much property injured. 

In 2 Kinss xi. 17 we read of the proclamation of Jehu, that 
' they hasted, and took every man his garment, and put it under 
him on the top of the stairs, and blew with trumpets.' This is a 
habit very usual in the East. A native, unless engaged in the 
absolute presence of his superior, does not wear his body coat, his 
ankrika, or garment, but folds it together with his waist-belt, and 
places it under him as he sits, i recollect this habit with the 
moonshees and attendants of Meer Jafiir Ali ; they sat on the 
stairs of the prince's house, each with his garment folded under 
him, and when called to the Meer's presence, hastily put them on. 

In ver. 17 we read of the * watchman on the tower in JezreeL' 
Along the whole line of villages and towns on the border of the 
desert of Cutchee, between Upper Sindh and the pass of the 
Bolan, were towers, each with its watchman, and these men stood 
to espy the first coming of any company of Belooches who might 
be on the way to commit plimder or acts of violence. And in the 
same verse we see that Joram said, ' Take an horseman, and send 
to meet them.' In India all princes, chiefs, or persons in official 
situations, have parties of horsemen attached to Uieir guards, who 
are used only as messengers to carry dispatches or ride forth in 

Suest of information, so that had the watchman from the tower of 
ioobarukpoor in Sindh espied a coming band, a horseman would 
immediately have been sent forth, as we see he was by Joram, to 
bring intelligence. 

At 2 Kings xxi. 13, we read, * And I will wipe Jerusalem, as a 
man wipeth a dish, wiping it, and turning it upside down.' This 
simile, m the present day, would be formed on a common habit 
among the people of the East A Hindoo uses always brazen 
vessels, a dish or two and a lotah ; in the dish he kneads his 
dough for cakes, and the lotah holds water to soften it. When the 
cakes are baked on the hearth, and the Hindoo has eaten the 
meal he has prepared, his immediate care is to cleanse his vessels ; 
rubbing them with a little earth, he pours a stream of water over 
them, wipes the dishes with his hand, and turning them upside 
down, rests them by the side of the hearth where they speedily 
dry. 

Some of the points, which I have selected as illustrative of the 
coincidences between the manners of the Jewish people at the 
time when their history formed the theme of the inspired penmen, 
and the customs of Orientals in the present day, touch indeed on 
subjects trivial in themselves, but which become on that account, 

in 



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1 849.] Recolledions of the East. 57 

in illustrafion of my gubjeet, only tbe more interesting and curious. 
The prominent events of sacred history were those essentially 
belonging to their own time, a time when the Maker of the visible 
creation deigned to reveal himself to man, to brin^ him morally 
under His government with willing subjection, having chosen the 
people of t&s nation and time to be the recipients of such revela- 
tions of his laws ; these events could occur but once. Still there 
were, in connection with these, secondary facts, recorded naturallv 
by the inspired penman, as expressive of the means by which 
weightier matters were effected ; and it is, I think, interesting to 
trace, and eminently useful to prove, that the people for whose 
instruction the greater facts were enacted and revealed, were in 
manners, habits, and usages, even-that ancient people ! such as every 
day life still presents to our view in eastern Asia ; and the more 
this resemblance is traced, and proved in its details, the stronger 
becomes the interest, and the higher the value of this species of 
external evidence. 

The Gentile sceptic, whose mind may be incapable of extending 
itself to the consideration of a different condition of social life, to 
that which forms tlie characteristics of his native land, and who 
remains ignorant of the influences of climate in forming the habits 
and manners of a people, may question the accuracy of details 
opposed to his own limited experiences, and the puny efforts of 
his reasoning powers being unable to grasp a truth, he takes the 
easier path ot doubt ; but were a Brahmin of India, on the contrary, 
to study, even without accepting as truths, the facts contained m 
the historical books of the sacred volume, he would be satisfied 
that Judaism was a religious system, which had been composed in 
the land of which it speaks, by and among a people whose habits 
were similar to those with which he was conversant, and this con- 
viction would probably influence his opinions much in favour of 
the authenticity of its records, when he recollected that they had 
been re-presented to the East by the teachers of a people angularly 
ignorant of and uiiinterested in cnriental manners, as his daily 
experience proves to him the professor of Christiamty to be. 

It appears to me, therefore, that as such an effect would be 
produced on the reasoning mind of the Brahmin familiar with the 
usages of his people, and acquainted^ by means of the Bible, with 
such facts as are there represented in connection with the great 
events of the early a^es of the world, so an acquaintance on our 
part with the familiar usages and general characteristics of 
orientals, with their social prejudices, and their every day habits, 
would so prove corroborative of the minor details of sacred writ, 
that added interest more solemn, more general, more touching, 
might be given to those mightier events which, to the hearts and 

ears 



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58 BecoUeetioru of the EaH. [July, 

ears of some, seem yet to be deficient in that stirring, animating, 
exciting power, which truth, the real, the actual, a&ne can give 
on such a subject as sacred revelation. To some the portraiture 
of tlie past might thus become more yivid, the events might seem 
of nearer, of more actual, of more stimulating power — stimulating 
to enquiry, stimulating to &ith, stimulating to obedience : — ^and 
from the impression, that the effect thus supposed, woidd indeed 
result from research into the customs of the people of the East, 
springs my hope, that, as facilities of commumcation increase 
between the east and west, this subject (on which, however ineffi- 
ciently, I have ventured to write) may m<Hre and more excite the 
attention of intelligent observers, my own limited experience having 
been yet extensive enough, to have led me to the firm c<Miviction, that 
the more diligently and ably research is made into the origin of the 
opinions of the people of the East, and the natural effects of them 
on their habits — the more research is made into usages, the result 
of climate, in connection with food, agriculture, sanitary precau- 
tions, and domestic life, and as such, equally affecting the natives 
of countries under similar latitudes — the more will the present 
manners of the people of India, though they may differ m their 
geographical position, be found in accordance witli, and illustrative 
of, uie sublime, natural, simply told, ana most touching narratives 
of the sacred writings. 



MORELL'S PHILOSOPHY OF RELIQION. 

By William M'Combie. 

The Phxhaophy of Heltgion. By J. D. Mobsll, A.M. — London : Longman, Brown, 
Green, and LongmanB, 1849. 

Before proceeding to examine the leading prmciples of this work 
we have a preliminary difficulty to state. We doubt the possibility 
of the task the author has assigned himself. Religion, considered 
as an emotional state of the human soul — and it is under this aspect 
that Mr. Morell contemplates and discusses it — is something beyond 
the range of philosophy. Not having a logical but an emotional 
birth, it is a subject not belonging to Philosophy, but to the Natural 
History of the human mind. And were we to regard religion as 
expressing the external means divinely put in operation for calling 
forth the mtemal sentiment just referred to, a similar impossibility 
attaches to a philosophy of religion regarded in this sense. Sucn 
appliances originating in the sovereign appointment of heaven, and 

having 



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1849.] MorelVs Philosophy of Religim. 59 

having thus a strictly supernatural source, are equally above thp 
possibility of being produced by natural ^agencies, and of being 
accounted for by natural reason. A philosophy of the process of re- 
demption isjust as absurd as would be a philosophy of the process of 
creation. Tne matter is not a subject oi philosophy, but a question 
of fact. If there has been any such thing as a supernatural reve- 
lation (and that is a question to be determined by evidence), then 
it must embrace facts and bearings of facts beyond the compre- 
hension of reason, else it would cease to maintain a supernatural 
character. Notlung comes within the range of philosophy but 
what reason may account for ; but all that reason can account for 
is, by that very fact, evinced to be physical, or in the established 
course of nature, which is governed by ascertainable laws, and not 
supernatural. 

JBut though thus indicating tliis preliminary objection to the 
very nature of the attempt before us; we do not mean at present to 
enter on ttie disquisition to which its ilill elucidation and application 
would lead us, but shall take up the work as we find it. And as 
our space does not permit us to enter into it in detail, we shall 
confine chiefly ourselves to one bearing of the discussion it em- 
bodies, which however is the main one, viz., what we are to 
recognise as our religious guide, and our ultimate standard of 
appeal. 

Various answers have been returned to this question ; but we 
are concerned at present with only two, viz., that generally given 
by Protestants, and that given by our author. 

Protestants generally recognise the Scriptures as the main source 
of religious knowledge, and the ultimate standard of appeal. Mr. 
MorelT holds the source to be ' intuition,' or the Mntuitional con- 
sciousness,' and the ultimate standard the common intuitions of 
^ mankind at large.' We cannot at present enter into the psycho- 
logical question in regard to intuition, nor is it exactly needfiiL 
Our purpose will- be served by taking intuition or the mtuitional 
consciousness as our author defines and describes it, and examining 
the consistency of his statements concerning it, and its competency, 
as so defined and described, for the functions assigned it. There 
is a vagueness and variation about our author's statement of the 
characteristics and functions of this faculty, which occasions a re- 
viewer considerable inconvenience ; however, by combination and 
comparison we must make the best we can of our materials : — 

* Tliere is one state of our intellectual consciousness by virtue of 
which we define terms, form propositions, construct reasonings, and 
perform the whole office that we usually attribute to a mind that acta 
logically ; but there is another state of our intellectual consciousness, 
in which the maiefial of truth comes to us as tliough by a rational in- 
stinct — 



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60 MoreWs Philosophy of' Religion, [Jiily> 

stinct — a mental sensibility— an intuitive power — a '^ communis senfius," 
traceable over the whole surface of civilized humanity * (p. 33). ' This 
state of consciousness coil^ti rules a kind of intellectual sensibility — an 
immediate intuition of certain objects, which are in no respect cognt- 
fable simply by the senses and the understanding. The &ciilty of 
which we now speak, and which may be termed pure reckon or intuition^ 
.... brings us face to face with the actual matter, or reality of truth 
itself.' (pp. 18, 19.) 

< Intuition implies a direct gazing on truth in its concrete unity ' 
(p. 342) ; ^ The knowledge involved in it could not have been gained 
by our own efforts' (129) ; but ^ is presented to us immediately by 
God' (128). 

Moreover, we must be careful * not to confound the products of 
this intuitional consciousness with the fundamental forms of 
thought, such as are usually described in a table of categories ; 
the product of intuition is never an abstract, formal, empty notion ; 
it is precisely the reverse, namely, a direct perception of some 
actual concrete reahty ' (p. 57). Again, ' The great peculiarity 
of that portion of our knowledge whi(ui comes through the process 
of intuition is, that it is not derived from any previous knowledge 
whatever — that there is no inference in the case — that we receive 
it immediately as a direct manifestation to our minds' (p. 129)» 

But this may suffice. Let us now examine the first example 
our author gives of the action of this faculty, which happens to be 
at once the most apposite and the hishest possible. If the in- 
tuitional consciousness can be shown to nave a direct perception of 
the Divine nature, then it will vindicate all that is claimed on its 
behalf. Let us see — 

* These two efforts of reason to seek the nature and origin both of 
the universe and the soul, lead naturally and inevitably to the con* 
ception of some common ground from which they are both derived. 
The soul is not self-created, but is consciously dependent on some 
higher power. There muyt be a type after which it was formed ; a 
self-existent essence from which it proceeded ; a supreme mind which 
planned and created my mind. So also with regard to nature. If the 
universe as a whole shows the most perfect harmony, all the parts 
thereof symmetrically adapted to each other, all proceeding onwards 
like a machine infinitely complicate, yet never clashing in its minutest 
wheels and movements; there must be some mind vaster than the 
universe, one which can take it all in at a single glance, one which has 
planned its harmony, and keeps the whole system from perturbation. 
In short, if there be dependent existence, there must be absolute exist- 
ence ; if there be temporal finite beings, there must be an eternal and 
infinite one. Thus the power of intuition, that highest elevation of the 
human consciousness, leads us at length into the world of eternal 
realities. . The period of the mind's converse with mere phenomena 

being 



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1 849.] Moreir$ Philosophy of Religion. 61 

being past, it rises at length to grasp the mystery of existence, and the 
problem of destiny.' — pp. 21, 22. 

Now the reader will bear in mind that ' the peculiarity of that 
knowledge which comes through the process of intuition is, that it 
is not derived from any previous knowledge whatever — there is no 
inference in the case.' Does the knowledge this paragraph is 
intended to evolve and embody fulfil this condition ? If it does, 
why the so frequent recurrence of the connecting 'must?' Is not 
that the sign or rather the very process of an inference ? What 
indeed is the whole paragraph but a constant inferring of the unfelt 
and unseen from the conscious and the seen ? * The period of the 
mind's converse with mere phenomena,' we are told 'is past.' Is 
not ' the universe,' from whose harmonious adaptations a presiding 
mind is inferred, phenomenal ? Is not ' dependent existence,' from 
which absolute existence is inferred, phenomenal ? Indeed, it is 
all inference from the phenomenal together. From the existence 
of ' the universe and the soul ' we are * led inevitably to the con- 
ception of some common ground from which they are both derived.' 
The soul cannot be ' self-created,' it must have a type after which 
it was formed. * If there be temporal and finite beings, there must 
be an Eternal and an Infinite One.' Is there here one single 
purely transcendental or intuitional element ? If this intuitional 
consciousness be compelled to descend to inference at every step 
in realising the idea of God, we have our author's own authority 
for not expecting better success from its efibrts in any lower 
department of spiritual knowledge, for, says he, 'to the iutuitioDsl 
consciousness there is no idea more positive, more sure, more 
necessary than this ' (p. 39). 

Intuitive truth we have been accustomed to regard as that which 
is perceived indubitably by its own light. But our author does 
not venture to claim any such clearness for his, so-called, ' spiritual 
intuition.' It admits of * a progressive intensity, from the weakest 
up to the strongest power of spiritual vision, or of intellectual 
sensibility.' Intuition, if it is worth anything, must be an inward 
vision con*esponding in clearness to the external sight. But what 
kind of intuition is that which does not realise its truthfulness in 
the individual mind ; which ' is not uniform but varying ;' which 
' is exposed to all the variations of association and temperament ;' 
which is liable ' to be disturbed by evil, by passion, by prejudice, 
and by a thousand other influences which distort the image, and 
tend to eflFace it altogether ;* whose ' perceptions ' will exhibit * a 
deficiency and divergency proportioned to the inward disorgani- 
zation ot man's moral and intellectual being;' and which con- 
fessedly has failed to preclude a 'mass of conflicting opinions'? 
(pp. 55-59). 

But 



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est Mareltt Phibsophy (^ Jtdi^m* [ Ju3y, 

But though the perceptions of the * mluitioiial conadousness' 
are often found to be dim, didtorted, or almost effiiced, our author 
has corrective and supplementary resources at hand. Hare is one. 
— ' Conscious of this defect, the logical £Eu;ulty comes to our aid. 
Knowing, as we do too well, that the intuitions we obtain of truth 
in its concrete unity are not perfect, we seek to restore and verify 
that truth by analysis ' (p. 59). Again, ^ In the defect of gazing 
upon truth as it is, by virtue of the mterior harmony of our whole 
being with God, we seek a substitute by applying the aids of 
analysis ' (p. 60). Indeed I We thought we were instructed by 
our author that it was of ultimate truths that the intuitional con- 
sciousness was cognisant — of the 'fundamental realities of the 
True, the Beautiml, and the Good ' — of which ' we can gain no 
conception by a logical definition,' which are therefore, as well as 
in virtue of the very idea of them, incapable of analysis. Analysis 
of ' Substance,' of the * Infinite,' of the * Absolute,' — that which 
would efiect this were indeed an intellectual solvent to which the 
physical ones dreamt of by the alchymist were but as water ! 

feut if we have shown this, so-called, * spiritual intuition' of our 
author to fail of the main characteristics of intuition, we have done 
nothing more than he has himself in more decided terms stated 
and acknowledged : — * Intuition . . . being the function of huma- 
nity, and not of the individual mind ( I ), the only means of getting 
at the essential elements of intuitional truth is to grasp that which 
rests on the common sympathies of mankind in its historical deve- 
lopment, after all individual impurities and idiosyncracies have 
been entirely stripped away ' (p. 55). Tliis * intuitional conscious- 
ness is progressive ' (p. 55). * Here, ii^tead of a fixed result, we 
find a perpetual variation, and, regarding mankind as a whole, a 
constant progression' (p. 56). 'We trust not to the Catholic 
thinking of tae past ; we trust rather to that of the present, which 
contains in its embrace the fruits of the past, together with the 
seeds of the future ' (p. 351). But how shall we decide what is 
the Catholic thinking of the present? Shall we receive, as em- 
bodying such, the system of Schleiermacher or Schelling? of 
Compte or Cousin ? of Owen or of Proudhon ? For all these, 
and many more in our time, loudly prefer each his claim to 
having expiscated the true system. On what ground shall we 
receive the system of one, and reject those of the rest, but on that 
of an individual judgment ? And if we can receive none of them 
as embodying the matured development of the collective * intuitions 
of mankind at large,' how can we ascertain and recognise what is 
3uch but by individual inquiry, and the exercise of individual 
judgment? We cannot fall back now on the 'intuitional con- 
sciousness ;' for it was to clear it from the influence of ' individual 

impurities 



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1849.] MorelFs PkOosophy of Bdigim. 68 

impurities and idioayncracies ' tlmt this very appeal to Catholic 
thinking was made. 

But supposing this *• Catholic thinking ' of our time ascertainable, 
what reason have we to plume ourselves on its superior truthfulness 
or stability over that of the past ? What, on this system, had they 
who preceded us to trust to but the Catholic thinking of their 
times? And if their ^ideas' have become ^wom out, may not 
ours, in turn, become the same ? Where then is the fixity of this 
standard ? where the stability of this boasted ' anchor of the soul ' ? 
(p. 350) Where the certitude of which the author has been in 
quest ? But perhaps it is the privilege of our age to have attained 
settled and clear ' intuitions,' while those of all our predecessors 
were * distorted ' and * dim.' If so, we should expect a general 
harmony amongst tliinkers on these high questions. But never 
perhaps was there less of this. The old diversity prevails and 
deepens ; and there is only one assumption on which we can arrive 
at tne same conclusion as our auth(»* respecting the clearness ^ and 
ascertainableness of the ' Catholic thinking ' of our time ; and that 
is, that transcendental eclectics ^ are the people, and wisdom shall 
die with them.' 

Such then is the guide to which it is the entire aim of Mr. 
MoreU's book to induce us to commit ourselves. We must now 
turn our attention to that portion of his work which is intended to 
furnish ^ a rigid analysis and clear elucidation ' of what is implied 
in * a Revelation from God.' 

* In considering under which of the two great generic modes of 
intelligence (Reasoning and Intuition) we have to class the parti- 
cular case involved in the idea of a revelation, we can have but 
little hesitation in referring it at once to the category of intuition ' 
(p. 126). We have just seen the value of our auuior's * intuition.' 
But, waiving a renewal of objections on that ground, we must 
remark that great part of what Christians receive as Divine Reve- 
lation, in other words, of the Bible, is not addi*essed to the in- 
tuitional consciousness, but is embodied in type, in symbol, in 
apologue, in dark prophecy. And much of its more direct teaching, 
so far from verifying itself in the intuitional consciousness, or being, 
on a bare suggestion, immediately self-seen that it must be so, 
remains altogether incomprehensible by the human intelligence — 
and must remain, at least to man in the present state, a subject 
not of intuition but of faith. The distinctive peculiarity of Divine 
revelation is to be sought not in its mode of communication— that 
has assumed many varieties—- but in its moral purpose. It informs 
us what is!^ with the sole, uniform, and determinate object of in- 
dueing in us what ought to be. 

* The act of reyelation is always a case of pure intuition.' This 

involves 



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64 MorelV$ Philosophy of Reliyion, [July, 

inyolves either the denial of the fiu^t of God's having given the law 
on Mount Sinai by his own living voice, or excludes that law from 
the category of revelation. Ana, applied to the discourses of our 
Lord, it would involve either the denial of the divinity of his person, 
or of the fact of those discourses having been spoken by him. 

But if Mr. Morell'g theory t^ears hard on the revelation we are 
accustomed to regard ourselves as possessing in the Scriptures, he 
18 prepared to make ample amends by his readiness to recognise 
the peculiar elements of revelation in sources extrinsic to them. 

' Taking the generic sense of the teim revelation, we may say, 
with perfect truth, that the universe is a revelation to the human 
mind. — ' Considering the mutual adaptation of the human faculties 
and the external world to each other ; considering that there must 
be the exact sensibility which is requi^te in the one, and the due 

f presentation of the ideas of God embodied in the forms and deve- 
opments of the other, can we reject the inference that the process 
by which we gaze admiringly upon the wonders of nature is a mode 
of intelligence that implies in its generic sense a direct revelation 
to Via from God himself? The case is still plainer when we turn to 
the higher spheres of intuition ' (pp. 128, 129^. Nay more ~ 
* The primary data of all branches even of scientific truth come to 
us by a direct intuitional process, that is, using the word in its broad 
generic sense, by an immediate revelation from God.' 

The Bible has by no means even an equal claim with these 
divine manifestations to be considered a revelation from God. One 
main inference from the reasoning of the chapter before us is — 

* That the Bible cannot in strict accuracy of language be termed a 
revelation, since a revelation always implies an actual process of intel- 
ligence in a living mind ; but it contains the records in wliich those 
minds who enjoyed the preliminary training, or the first brijjhter reve- 
lation of Christianity, have described the scenes which awakened their 
own religious nature to a nevv life, and the high ideas and inspirations 
to which that new life gave origin*. Tho^ actual revelation was not 
made primarily in the book, but in the mind of the writers ; and the 
power which that book possesses of conveying a revelation to us consists 
in its aiding in the awakenment and elevation of our religious conscious- 
ness ; in its presenting to us a mirror of the history of Christ ; in its 
depicting the intense religious life of his first followers; and in giving 
us the tetter through which the spirit of truth may be brought home in 
vital experience to the human heart.' — ^pp. 143, 144. 

In full harmony with this our author holds that the peculiarity 
of the Christian revelation consists, not at all in the matter of it, 
or the truths it embodies : — ' The whole peculiarity in the case of 
the Christian revelation centres in those divine arrangements, 
through the medium of whidi the loftiest and purest conceptions 

• . of 



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1849.J MorelTs Philosophy of Religion. 65 

of truth were brought before the immediate consciousness of the 
Apostles, and, through them^ of the whole age ' (p. 145). 

We place these paragraphs on record to show to what the 
eclectic assumptions on behalf of an intuitional revelation in the 
human consciousness tend. Nature, intuition, the intuitional 
consciousness' and ^common sympathies of mankind,' are all 
exalted, in order that the value and authority of the Scriptures 
may be depressed. This is the whole strain and tendency of the 
chapter under consideration, and indeed of the book. Nature 
and intuition are each a direct and immediate revelation from 
God, but * the Bible cannot, in strict accuracy of language, be 
termed a revelation' (p. 143). 

' The conclusion to which we must be brought is, that the Spirit 
of Truth, interpreted by Divine aid, and perceived through the 
awakened religious consciousness of true believers, is the real and 
essential revelation ' (p. 158). Thus the Scriptures are subordinated 
entirely to oiu* intuitional consciousness ; for that is just what is 
meant by the cumbrous and most grotesque, if not profane, 
jumble of Christian and transcendental phraseology we have just 
quoted. Regarded verbally, as well as theologically, this sentence 
is a rare specimen of ^ darkening counsel by words.' What is 
meant by * the Spirit of Truth interpreted by Divine aid ?' Is 
the expression, * Spirit of Truth,' here employed to signify a 
Divine personality, or his teaching? If a Divine personality, 
then we are taught that he is perceived by the awakened religious 
consciousness, which, indeed, would not be a new doctrine exactly, 
but it has hitherto been confined to tlie rankest enthusiasts. But 
if by the * Spirit of Truth ' is meant, not a Divine personality, but 
his teaching, then we have even this internal revelation brought 
before us subject to that very inconvenience of the written one, 
which it was held forth as being its peculiar glory to obviate — 
namely, standing in need of interpretation. And it amounts pre- 
cisely to this, that what each receives from this boasted immecUate 
source, is just according to each one's spiritual perception, and 
subject to each one's own interpretation; 

This may teach us the value of the perpetual objections brought 
by persons belonging to our author's school, against the * letter ' 
of Scripture, viewed as an authority, on account of the interminable 
diversity arising out of individual interpretation. We now find 
that the ' spirit,' of which we hear so much, needs interpretation 
as well as the letter. And even the very intuitional consciousness 
itself becomes a fertile source of diversity of opinion : — * Each 
man and each party views the letter of the word through the 
medium of their own religious conceptions, and finds in it a 
greater or less intensity, according to the development of their 

YOi*.- IV. — NO. VII. F intuitional 



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66 Moreir$ Philosophy of Religion. [July, 

intuitioiial consciousness ' (p. 347). And so this ^ intuitional con- 
sciousness ' is not only subject to almost unlinuted variations itself^ 
but tends in consequence to propagate endless variations of inter- 
pretation and opinion. A rare source of religious certitude 
tnily I 

In respect to inipiration, the conclusion our author comes to is 
just such as might be expected. It implies nothing different from 
or higher than the current reBgions feelings and convictions of the 
writers of Scripture : — ' The word is the natural and spontaneous 
expression of tne Divine life which the inspired Apostles received 
immediately from God ' (p. 158). Thus every Christian is in- 
spired exactly in the same manner and the same sense as they 
were. Should we confine the privilege to Christians ? On this 
theory, certainly not. 

Near to the commencement of his chapter on inspiration, our 
author says : — ' It is not our purpose at present to discuss the 
nature of miracles philosophically considered' (p. 152). A 
greater misconception as to the character of miracles than is re- 
vealed in this brief sentence, it is impossible to conceive of. If 
the nature of miracles is capable of being philosophically con- 
ffldered, then they cease to be miracles. They can become a 
subject of philosophy only by becoming physical processes. To 
talk of considering miracles philosophicallv, is equivalent to a 
proposition to consider creation philosophicallv, which, as we have 
already seen, can only become a subject of philosophy by ceasing 
to be creation, and becoming mere physical development. Miracles 
must be received as supernatural racts, altogetiier beyond the 
sphere of philosophy, or they are no miracles at all. Miracles 
are either the results of the immediate action of the Deity on 
natural objects, or they are such a use of physical agencies as en- 
tirely overbears their established action ; m either case they must 
ever remain alike inexplicable. That this extraordinary miscon- 
ception is not a mere lapse of the pen is shown by other expres- 
sions ; as, for instance, in contrasting the power of performing 
miracles with inspiration, he says, that the former ^ demanded an 
extraordinary j^Ay^ica/jwtcer.' If miracles are wrought by phy- 
sical power, then they are clearly at an end. 

Inspiration is, in its modus, equally inexplicable with miracles 
and creation. It is one of the instances of direct Divine acting, of 
which it is the very nature that no account, coming within the 
comprehension of the human understanding, can be given. And it 
is surely a marvellous inconastency to find such a stickler for * pure 
reason, ' intuitional consciousness,' and ' Christian consciousness,' 
as altogether distinct from and above the sphere of the under- 
standing ; yet, attempting with continuous purpose and incessant 

labour. 



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1 849.] MorelCs Philosophy of Religion. 67 

labour, to bring the modus of the most special and peculiar in- 
stances of immediate spiritual action within that sphere. 

Yet so it is throughout the whole discussion. His transcen- 
dentalism ever and anon belies its character, and is but the same 
naturalism everywhere. Thus, * The proper idea of inspiration, 
as applied to the Holy Scriptures, does not include either mira- 
culous powers, verbal dictation, or any distinct commission firom 
God ' (p. 165). Inspiration depends upon * the clearness, force, 
and accuracy of a man's religious intuitions.' ' As an internal 

Ehenomenon it is perfectly consistent with the natural laws of the 
uman mind — it is a higher potency of a certain form of con- 
sciousness, which every man in some degree possesses ' (p. 166). 
And again — ' The effort of theology is always to give a definite 
form and scientific basis to our religious life ' (p. 196). Yes, in- 
deed ! the whole labour alike, of eclectics, transcendentalists, and 
^ natural historians of creation,' has ever been to find a scientific 
basis of life, but thev will return blind and baffled from the search 
to the last hour of time. 

Apart altogether from the opinions expressed, we regret Mn 
Morell's mode of putting some of his statements and arguments 
respecting the authority and value of the Scriptures. It is very 
unfortunate, and in unhappy taste, to sav the least of it, and mar 
appear to some readers to indicate more hostility than is expressed. 
As instances, we would point to paragraphs on pp. 159, 160, 161, 
176, 177, 181, 186, which we cannot quote in extenso. With a 
similar disapproval we must refer to his again, and again telling 
us that the New Testament Scriptures were written long after 
Christianity had established itself. Has not this too much the 
aspect of a sinister playing into the hands of the Straussian school ? 
At all events, in tins and other too numerous instances, there is 
indicated an animus towards what are held to be orthodox notions 
in this country, not consistent with the impartial calmness of the 
real truth-seeker, but characteristic rather of the special advocate. 
Besides, ere one set himself so systematically to loosen the hold 
which the Scriptures have hitherto had on all Protestant 
Christians as the authority in religion, one would need to be 
pretty sure as to what he nad to siu>stitute in their place. We 
should not like to incur the responsibility of such an attempt^ 
even though we had the coUective spiritual intuitions of tne 
angelic hierarchy to offer to mankind in their stead. 

In reference to Christian theology Mr. Morell finds that it has 
just these two 'essential pre-requisites ' — *A religious nature 
awakened by the development of the Christian life; and the 
application of logical reflection to the elements of Divine truth, 
wluch that life spontaneously presents ' (p. 202). From this he 

F 2 anticipates, 



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68 MorelFs Philosophy of Jteliff ion. [July, 

anticipates, very naturally, that some may be surprised, ' that in 
enumerating tne essential conditions of Christian theology, he 
should say nothing about the Bible.' His explanation of this 
rather singular omission is to the following effect. 

Referring to his views and arguments in his chapter on Inspira- 
tion, he says, ^ It will be seen that the existence ot the Scriptures, 
as stichj was not essential to the rise and maintenance of Christian 
theology at all. Take the case of any of the very early churches 
which had perhaps heard, or perhaps had not heard the preaching 
of the Apostles, but who certainly never enjoyed a sight of their 
writings. These churches, assuredly, could enjoy the power of 
true Christianity, and could have' possessed a valid Christian 
theology as well as we. And yet there were no Christian Scrip- 
tures in the case : there could be, therefore, no poring over tne 
letter— no induction of passages — no verbal criticism whatever. 
There could be amply tne awakening of a new religious life by 
the proclamation of human sin and human recovery by Christ, the 
chosen of God on the one side, and their own attempts to bring 
such religious feelings and instructions into a clear reflective 
statement on the other' (pp. 202, 203). 

Now it never fell to our lot to peruse a wjeaker paragraph than 
this. The Bible is not an essential element' in order to the con- 
struction of a Christian theology, because the Christians of the 
apostolic age might have built up such a theology before the 
books composing the New Testament were written. But out of 
what materials? — the very same which we have now in these 
New Testament Scriptures, and which they received directly from 
the lips of living inspired teachers, who had been witnesses of the 
unparalleled facts these Scriptures record. What a puerile 
sophism to assign as a reason for not including the Bible among 
the essential elements of a Christian theology 1 But we cannot 
now enter on the questions which would here open up before us, 
and it is the less necessary, as we had occasion to discuss the rela- 
tion of the Scriptures to Christian theology in a late number of 
this Journal.* 

In Mr. Morell's chapter on Religious Certitude, of course the 
subjective is exalted at the expense of all objective grounds. The 
trustworthiness and value of the ' intuitional consciousness ' as a 
ground of certitude we have already investigated. To that in- 
vestigation we have no intention of formally recurring. Nor can 
we enter at present on the abstract question what measure of 
certitude is compatible with the nature of religious truth, and the 

• Journal oj Sacred Literature, No. III. — * Relation of Scripture to Human In- 

conditions 



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1849.] MoreWs Philosophy of Religion. 69 

conditions of moral agency.^ All we can do at present is to exa- 
mine one or two of our ai^hor's assumptions and arsuments having 
a bearing on thS position and value of the facts of Christianity. 

Viewed objectively, Christianity is a religion resting on a 
basis of supernatural facts ; and viewed subjectively, it is a state 
of the soul induced by a belief of those facts. Our conviction of 
this, instead of being shaken, is confirmed by such objections as 
the following : — * To regard Christianity as a question of facts, 
and make its certitude rest upon this basis, is eluding the whole 
point and stringency of the question, inasmuch as these fojcU are 
not resolved into flieir real elements, nor the grounds of their 
religious value^ exhibited ' (pp. 307, 308). What may be meant 
by resolving facts, and especially the supernatural facts of 
Christianity, into their real elements, we can have no conception. 
But the Scripture narratives not only embody the facts on which 
Christianity rests, but the relation of those facts both to the 
Divine character and government, and to our spiritual nature and 
moral condition. If this is not exhibiting the grounds of their 
religious value, we know not what could do so. ' God so loved 
the world as to give his only begotten Son, that whosoever 
believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' 
In this brief sentence we have three stupendous facts — the love of 
God — the consequent gift of his son — ^and the eternal salvation of 
the believer in him ; and to the Christian consciousness, the re- 
ligious value of the whole, irradiates that statement, with a light 
clearer than that of noon. But perhaps it is to the * logical con- 
sciousness ' that Mr. Morell desiderates the ^ exhibition ' of the 
^religious value ' of the facts of Christianity ; if so, we only say, 
that such an exhibition is not only apart entirely from the primary 
purpose of the Scripture revelation, but essentially inconsistent 
with what Mr. M. labours throughout his whole book to show 
must be the generic character of revelation. ' The act of revela- 
tion is always a case of pure intuition ' (p. 145) ; ^ and the whole 
result is one lying beyond the reach of tlie logi(kl understanding * 
(p.. 126). It were, therefore, the grossest inconsistency in Mr. 
Morell to demand that the inspired narratives of the facts of 
Christianity should embody a logical exhibition of their * religious 
value.' And yet we fear he does nothing less than this in the 
paragraph before us, for he desiderates theu- being ^ resolved into 
their real elements,' and ' analysis ' is the function of ' the logical 
consciousness ' (p. 48). 

^ For a discussion of that qaestion we may refer the reader to an article op 
* Authority in Religion/ in No. 7 of the British Qwirterly Review, 

<^ The italics here and, -with some few exceptions, throughout ail the quotation^ 
are Mr. MorelFs. 

Our 



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70 MorelTs Philowphy of Religim. [July, 

Our author goes on to say : ' Testimony can only refer tofactSj 
and can ha?e no validity as evidence beyond the viJue of the facts 
to which it testifies. The authenticity of a book, for example, 
can be known by testimony ; its title to a divine ori^ must rest 
on grounds entirely different ' (p. 308). The testmiony of ihe 
evangelists not only embodies the &cts, that a divine person ap- 
peared in the ordinary form of humanity, lived, taught, acted, and 
suffered for the salvation of the world, but also embodies the 
evidence he afforded of Ins being divine. The record not only 
embraces the public life and death of ^ the man Christ Jesus,' and 
the moral bearings of that life and death ; but also the evidence 
of his claim both to a divine personality and a divine mission. 
These facts while occurring on earth, and under the ordinary re- 
lations of humanity, yet evmce always the presence in them of an 
element transcending all terrestrial and human agencies. And 
the one blends so uniformly with the other, that we cannot admit 
the mundane and human elements, without admittinff also the 
divine. On the facts of Christianity, therefore, in all weir histo- 
rical integrity we take our stand, conscious that while we can 
maintain this position, we are secure of all that is essential to our 
faith. 

But the importance of this question leads us to remark on yet 
another of Mr. Morell's statements in this connection : — ' The 
very most that testimony can do,' says he, ^ is to place us in the 
same position as the persons who witnessed the facts in question ; 
and just as those persons accepted the spiritual truth on ^unds 
with which testimony had notmng to do (because it did not in their 
case intervene), so also must we accept the truth, not because the 
witnesses asserted their belief of it, but because we have the 
same grounds for belief presented to us, upon testimony^ as they 
had directly presented through their senses' (p. 309). K the 
reasoning in this paragraph be not sophistical, it is certainly ex- 
ceedingly illogical and confused. The persons ' who witnessed 
the facts on which Christianity is based, * accepted the spiritual 
truth conveyed to them on groimds with which testimony had no- 
thing to do. Did they indeed ? Was not much of this * spiritual 
trutn ' conveyed to them by ' the testimony of Jesus ' ? And as 
to the attempt to depreciate the value of testimony, because they 
received the facts independently of it, inasmuch as * it did not in 
their case intervene' — nothing could, we conceive, be more 
puerile. What was the ground on which they received those 
facts, and the spiritual truths they involved and exhibited, what 
but that of actual observation — they * saw and believed.' The 
need of testimony of course is superseded where there is the 
opportunity of personal observation. And they tmtnessed thefects 

— * That 



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1849.] MorelTz Philosophy of Religum. 71 

— * That Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures^ and 
that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according 
to the Scriptures.' And their testimony to those and correspond* 
ing facts has formed the ground of &ith in all succeeding gene- 
rations, wherever the rehgion of Christ has been made known. 
Denude it of these facts and what were Christianity V Where 
were the Gospel ? What good news were there to tell ? Shake 
our confidence in the historical verity of the truth that ^ Christ died 
for our sins,' and the anchor of the soul is gone. We do not 
charge Mr. Morell with an attempt directly to invalidate these 
&cts, but his system leads him to depreciate their value, and to 
displace them from that podtion, which, to an impartial eye, they 
must ever hold in the Christian system. Mr. M. would ever 
exalt the internal, or as he calls it, ' intuitive,' at the expense of 
the documentary ; but a healthful Christianity, we are convinced, 
will ever demand that the authority of the latter be sustained as 
paramount. 

In the following sentence the possession of a susceptiUlilr seems 
to be confounded with its exercise, or at least regarded as of neces- 
sity involving such exercise : — * We must suppose that if the 
Creator would communicate truth to his creatures, he gave them 
minds originally capable of feeling it, and originally capable of 
sympathising with it. In one word, the first revelation of God to 
man must have been an mtoar^ revelation ' (p. 828). That the 
human mind possesses an original susceptibility of feeling or ap^e- 
heuding spiritual truth we not only admit but maintain, ^ut 
does this susceptibility necessarily embody the truth appropriate 
to it? Or rather may not the susceptibility be possessed and yet 
frequently not be awaxened ; as it is certain many minds possess 
the power of perceiving and recognizing much truth, which vet 
through life they never discover. If the susceptibility of feekng 
and appreciating truth, of necessity embodied and revealed all the 
truth appropriate to it, it would not be merely a susceptibility. It 
would be a gift rather than a power. And we might ask, is such 
a gift analogous to any of the other endowments of the human 
mind ? But we content ourselves vrith this other simple question 
— Does the history of religion, or rather of the religions of the 
world evince tliat man is possessed of any such gift? If it does, 
what has been its practical value ? Apart from the influence of 
all documentary and traditionary revelation, where even its mani- 
festations ? 

From a certain party we have beard much recently of * Catliolic 
tradition,' as the only «ure guard against individual error ; for 
this our author proposes to substitute the ^ Catholic consciousness' 
of the universal Church (p. 348). This, amid all perplexing 

controversies 



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72 MorelFs Philosophy of Reliffian.^ [July, 

controversies and ^ minor perturbations,' is to be the refuge of 
light and security to the individual ' Christian mind.' — ' The 
Catholic consciousness of the imiversal Church has gone forward 
in its development ; one point afker another has been cleared up, 
one principle after another brought to light ; and the calm, un- 
biassed, heaven-aspiring mind, standing aloof from the din and 
passion of controversy, sees the central course throuffh*which God 
IS guiding his ark, and falls back upon the great Catholic hopes, 
convictions, and aspirations of the Christian mind in its upward 
progress, as its satest guide, its surest resource ' (pp. 348, 349). 
Now admitting this ' Cathftlic consciousness ' to have an unique 
adaptation to fulfil these high ends, how is it to be got at ? Facts 
of consciousness, until they are expressed, are known only to the 
individual mind that experiences them» This ' Catholic conscious- 
ness ' must be made up of individual consciousnesses, which can 
only be expressed by language ; and thus it becomes subject, on 
our author s own showing, to all the difficulties attending the pre- 
cise expression of mental states and experience, and that in an 
aggravated measure, as the intuitional experience is of all others 
the most difficult to express. Even this transcendental light must, 
unfortunately, stoop to convey itself from mind to mind by a 
* letter ' as well as the vulgar revelation we have in the Bible, 
And thus it becomes liable to all the infelicities and incertitude, 
which our author has, with such keen-sightedness, adduced against 
that medium of truth. 

We have remarked on this work with all the freedom which the 
importance of the principles at stake demands ; but we would not 
be understood as condemning the entire book. Apart from the 
vitiating influence of the theory on which we have felt it necessary 
at such length to animadvert, there is a good deal of valuable, and 
sometimes beautiful and impressive thinking. As containing ex- 
amples of this, we would particularly instance the chapters * On 
the peculiar Essence of Religion,' and * On Fellowship. But in 
maintaining and illustrating his favourite theory, the author is 
often chargeable with palpable inconsistencies, and betrays, somcT 
times, a strange ignorance of the power of scientific instruments, 
and of the appropriate sphere of their application. And that 

gsculiar theory, wliich in our estimation vitiates his book, not un- 
equently vitiates also his style, producing, instead of a distinct 
and perspicuous expression of thought, a cloud of ill-rdigested and 
confused verbiage. We can only give one or two examples : — 

On page 196 he speaks of * Divine things as reflected Km the 

surface of our spiritual nature,' while on page 197 be tells us 

that ' the perceptions we obtain of ^spiritual things in the vital 

awakenment of our religious nature, are direct presentations to the 

^ inward 



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1849.] MarelTs Philosophy of Religion. 73 

inward eye.' On page 198 he informs us that * religion pictures 
out before us, even to our own awe and astonishment, tne won- 
derful revelations of God to man.' Beligion picturing out the 
revelations of God before us is really a most extraordinary process. 
If such an operation had been demanded, we should have been 
inclined to have assigned it to imagination, concluding that religion 
would be concerned only to receive these revelations, and assimuate 
them as its life. On page 304, he describes the evangelical nar- 
rative as ' a touchstone wnereby to compare the whole complexion 
of our own religious life with that of the apostles, and the spiritual 
features of our own character with the iniagcj mirrored to us in 
the Word of the Saviour himself 1 

In addition to sudi not unfrequent incongruities of style and 
figure, the incessant iteration of the bald elements of one theory, 
induces so frequent a recurrence of the phrases * Intuitional Con- 
sciousness,' ^ Christian Consciousness,' ^ Catholic Christian Con- 
sciousness,' as to give them all the offensive savour of cant. And 
we must protest tnat in our whole lives we have never been more 
sick of any form of cant, than, on closing the volume before us, 
we have been of this ; and never felt a greater relief than in 
making our escape from this hothouse of transcendental exotics into 
the sharp clear air of our native hills. There we feel ourselves 
again, not mere theosophic dreamers, but waking, living, indivi- 
dual. Christian men, and with just a plain Engli^ reason, heart, 
conscience, and spiritual emotions. 



THE QOLDEN CALF. 
EXOD. XXXII. 



TranslaiedfromSaur%n*8 * Diaamn Hittoriqueg^ CrUiqueM^ T^^i^ogique; et Moraux, 
sur Us Ev^emens les plus mOmorabUs du Vieux et du Nouveau Testament* 

By the Rev. F. A. Cox, D.D., LL.D. 

Virtuous and holy purposes, which originate in a sudden emo- 
tion of fear, are seldom put in practice. The Israelites, while 
seeing the lightning and hearing tne thimder, said to Moses, ' All 
that the Lord hath spoken will we do ;' but the lightning' dis- 
appeared, the thunder was no more heard, Moses was no longer 
in the midst of them to demand the fulfilment of their promises ; 
they forgot their vows, and madly vlolafed them. 

iSome 



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74 Tk$ Gobbu Calf. [July, 

Some Jewish doctors* have said they ima^ned that their 
le^lator had been devoured by the flames of Smai, adding that 
the devil led them into this error ; that he even showed them 
the rod of Moses, or had caused a phantom to anpear in the air 
to induce the belief that it was his dead bod^. His absence be- 
came the more intolerable to them that the pillar of cloud seemed 
to be for ever withdrawn with Moses to the mountain, and they 
had too gross a mind to worship an invisible God who gave no 
sensible sign of his presence. They wished to supply the absence 
of the cloud, and to have a symbol of divinity among them. 
They said to Aaron, *• Make us gods,' or ^ make us a god,' for 
the original admits of either of these translati(M9S.^ ^ Make us 
cods which shall go before us ; for as for this Moses, the man that 
brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we wot not what is be- 
come of him ; not that they were so stupid as to believe that the 
hands of men could give being to the Divinity, but they wished 
for some outward and visible object where they might deposit, so 
to speak, the homage they would render to the sovereign God. 
Thus, some rabbins have explained the words of Moses, — ^ Make 
us a sensible object of divine worship which shall be before our 
eyes, and be in the place of God, when reminded of the miracles 
done for us in Egypt.' « 

It is astonishing that Aaron should have offered no resistance to 
the people's proposal, or, if he did so, that Moses should have 
made no mention of it. It seems necessary that such a circum- 
stance should have been recorded, and that we should have bad 
a better guarantee for it than the testimony of certain rabbins.^ 
They have stated, if not as an entire justification of Aaron, at 
least as some exculpation, that his timidity was the cause of his 
compliance ; that Hur had been massacred for wishing to oppose 
them ; and that Aaron, ready to yield to their violence, said, in 
appealing to heaven, ' I raise mine eyes to thee, O God, who 
searchest the heart, and dwellest in the heavens : thou knowest 
that I act against my wishes.' 

But Moses relates the criminal compliance of Aaron, imme- 
diately after having spoken of the criminal demand of the 
Israelites. He says that Aaron replied, * Break off the golden 
earrings which are in the ears of your wives, of your sons, and of 
your daughters, and bring them unto me.' Some ancient writers* 

* Shemoth RaJbha, sect. 41, fol. 156. 

. ^ It is true the word * Elohim ' is construed here with a plural, but this is often 
the case when the true God is spoken of (Gen. xx. 13; Exod. xxxii. 1). 
« R. Jnda, in lib. Cozrif part i., sect 97, fol. 47. 
d Shem. Rah., sect. 41. ^ 

• August, vol. iv., QiMttw 41 m Exod. \ Theod., vol. \^ in Exod. 

have 



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1849.] The Golden Calf. 75 

have presumed that this reply w^s given in order to discourage 
these foolish people, and that he supposed they would not wish 
for an idol which he fixed at so high a price. If this diminished 
the fault of Aaron it aggravated that of the Israelites. They 
felt no repugnance in furnishing these golden earrings taken from 
the Egyptians, which God had given them by virtue of his 
sovereign right over the whole earth and all contained in it, and 
thus anticipated the reproadi of a prophet addressed to their 
descendants many ages afterwards^' As a wife that committeth 
adultery, which taketh strangers instead of her husband ; Thou 
givest thy gifts to all whores ; but thou givest thy gifts to all thy 
lovers, and hirest them, that they may come unto thee on every 
side for thy whoredom ' (Ezek. xvi. 32, 33). 

The history adds that Aaron took the offerings of the Israelites 
and made ' a molten calf.' ' But the words which he emplovs 
immediately preceding these last, ftimish one of the most remark- 
able examples of the ambiguity of the sacred language ; for they 
equally signify either that Aaron received the earrings in a bag, 
or that he graved them with an engraving tool. One of the most 
celebrated critics^^ prefers the former interpretation, and founds 
his preference on reasons so plausible, that they mi^t have ap- 
peared unanswerable, had they not been refuted by another critic 
of great name,^ who opposes them with substantial reasons, so that 
the principal conclusion to be drawn from this dispute is, that it 
is an argument in favour of critical scepticism. 

A more famous question is agitated by the learned, which no 
less contributes to the same conclusion, and proves there are sub- 
jects on which it is possible to advan($e considerations equally 
probable in support of the most opposite opinions. It is asked 
what determined Aaron to choose the image of a calf as an 
emblem of the Deity ? We will state the principal opinions of 
the learned on the subject ; and if they produce the same im- 
pression upon the reader as they have upon us, he will remain 
still in suspense without taking a decided part in the dispute. 

Some expoffltors' have supposed that Aarcm gained this idea 
on the mountain, where he was once admitted with Moses ; and on 
another occasion with Nadab and Abibu, and the seventy elders. 
They maintain that God appeared exalted on a cherub which had 
the form of an ox ; a thought on which the whole treatise entitled 
Aaron Exculpated turns. But this sentiment is incompatible with 
that extreme care which God took not to furnish on Sinai any 
pretext for idolatry, and with his own words to the Israelites in 

. , — — ^ — — ►— . m — . — - — — 

' In Ps. cvi. 20, it is called an ox, 

« Bocharti Hieroz., part i., lib. 2. c. 34. *» Le Clerc. 

« Fr. Monc»iw, * Aaron, Purgai.* tX the end of vol. ii. of Criiidms. 

Deuteronomy 



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76 J%e Golden Calf. [July, 

Deuteronomy (iv. 15^ &c.), * Take ve therefore good heed unto 
yourselves, ror ye saw no manner of similitude on the day that 
the Lord spake unto you in Horeb out of the midst of the fire : 
Lest ye corrupt yourselves, and make you a craven imaroy the 
similitude of any figure, the Ekeness of male or femafe, the 
likeness of any beast that is on the earth, the likeness of any 
winged fowl tiuit flieth in the air, the likeness of any thin^ that 
creepeth on the ground, the likeness of any fish maX is in the 
waters beneath tl^ earth.' The Holy Spirit has in these words 
collected together every species of animals, and expressly aflirms 
that the form of none of them appeared on the mountain. 

A learned prelate,^ in order to exculpate Aaron, maintains that 
his design was simply to furnish a hieroglyphic of the energy and 
power of God. He discovers some ancient monument, from which 
ne shows, that among the Phoenicians the ox was an emblem of 
royal fK>wer. Eusebius has supplied him with some instances,"^ and 
also Diodorus Siculus," and Valerius Maximus,® with others, fix>m 
which he proves that the Romans had formerlv the same hiero- 
glyphic. On this ground he sa^s that Aaron wished the IsraeKtes 
to call to remembrance ideas of the power and enersy of Grod, and 
to reimpress their minds with the splendid signs they had seen. 
In this manner he explains the words — * These be thy gods, O 
Israel, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt ;' and 
those other words of Aaron — ' To-morrow is a feast to the Lord.' 
The idea is ingenious ; but it is necessary to examine whether 
this hieroglyphic was used in the time of Moses, and whether 
this explanation accords with the reserve of Aaron, who alleges 
no such motive to exculpate himself, and, with the anger of God 
against him, which would have been so fatal, if Moses had not 
interceded in his favour. 

The generality of expositors adopt a third opinion, namely, 
that Aaron made choice of a calf, because that animal was wor- 
shipped in Egypt.P It is proved that the Israelites were infected 
with the idolatry of Egypt, of which we have numerous evidences. 
It is apparent from the exhortation of Joshua, ' Now, therefore, 
fear the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and in truth ; and put 
away the gods which your fathers served on the other side of the 
flood, and in Egypt, and serve ye the Lord.' Josh. xxiv. 14 ; and 
the prophet Ezekiel, ' Cast ye away every man the abominations 

^ Patrick on Exod. xxxii. 

"» Euseb., PrcBpar., lib. 1. last chapter. 

" I know not what passage Patrick had In yiew, bat Diodoras says positively that 
the oxen or bulls of Apis and Mnevis were worshipped as gods in Egypt (lib. 1). 
He also says that Bacchus was represented with horns (lib. 3). 

o Lib. ▼. cap. 6. 

P Le Clerc on Exod. xxxii. 2, in vol. i. of Critiqueg, . Grotius, ibid^ 

of 



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1849.] TJie Goldm Calf. 11 

of his eyes, and defile not yourselves with the idols of Egypt . . • 
But they rebeHed against me, . . . they did not every man cast 
away the abominations of their eyes, neither did they forsake the 
idols of Egypt ' (Ezek. xx. 7, 8). Thus far the opinion of these 
critics is demonstrated, and on this point there is no ground of 
doubt. 

They show also that all kinds of animals were worshipped by 
the Egyptians* This, however, is not so fiillv proved, but is very 
probable. If the question related to the times which followed 
those of Israel, we should find innumerable proo& in profme 
authors. Pomponius Mela'i expressly states that they worshipped 
the images of a great multitude of animals, still more, the 
animals themselves. Josephus' says that * if the religious cere- 
monies of the Egyptians were adopted throughout the world, it 
would be soon full of beasts, and there would be no more left for 
man. Strabo* enters into greater detail on the subject — * There 
are animals,' says he, ^ which all the Egyptians worship, as the 
terrestrial, the ox, the dog, the cat; tnose of the air, as the 
sparrow-hawk, the ibis ; those of the aquatic tribe, &c. Every 
particular district worships in its own way, as the sheep at 
Thebes,' &c. 

It is further assumed that the idolatry of animals was already 
established in Egypt during the sojourn of the Israelites there^ 
which follows almost inevitably from the reply of Moses to 
Pharaoh — ' Shall we sacrifice the abomination of the Egyptians 
before their eyes, and will they not stone us ? ' (Exod. viii. 26 ; 
see also Deut. vii. 25 ; xii. 30, 31 ; 2 Kings xxiii. 13; Esdras 
ix. 1 ; Ezek. xx. 7, 8). The abomination of the Egyptians signifies 
the idols of Egypt ; a word used in this sense in various passages 
of Scripture. 

It is also demonstrated that long after the age of Moses the ox 
was reverenced in Egypt in a singular manner. Strabo afiurms, 
in the book already quoted,^ that an ox was kept at Memphis, 
which was regarded as a divinity. Pliny" expressly declares the 
same thing, and adds, that the Egyptians called this ox Apis^ and 
that it had two kinds of temples, the entrance to one of them 
being most pleasant, to the other frightful. Herodotus^ describes 
this idol : ^ Apis or Epatus,' says he, ' is a calf from a cow which 

•1 Pomp. Mela, De situ Orbis, lib. 1. cap. 9. 

r Joseph, contr. Appion. lib. 2. cap. 5. 

■ Strabo, lib. 17. See also Herod., lib. 2. caps. 39, 40 ; Diod. Sic, lib. 1. 

« Strabo, lib. 17. 

u Plin., Hist.f lib. 8. cap. 46. See yarioos testimonies to the same in Vossius, 
De Idolat. 

^ Herod., lib. 3. cap. 38. See another description in Pomp. Mela, De situ OrbiSf 
lib. 1. cap. 9. 

never 



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78 Tlie Golden Calf. [July, 

never produced but one, and this could only have been by a clap 
of thimder. The calf, denominated Apis, has certain marks by 
which it may be known. It is all over black, excepting one sqixare 
mark ; on its back is the figure of an eagle, and on its tongue 
that of a beetle.' 

There was formerly in the library of Cardinal Carpegna a fine 
medallion. It represents on one side the head of Antinoiis with 
this inscription, Hpaos antinooc^ the Hero Antinous. On the re* 
yerse is the image of the god Apis, with this inscription, neiko- 
MHAEiA H MHTPonoADt, Nicomcdia the Metropolis. The emperor 
Hadrian had put his favourite Antinous among the number of 
the gods, but tne worship of this imworthy deity w'as never esta- 
blished at Rome, and was neither appomted nor approved by 
any act of the Senate. Antiquarians remark that there is no 
Latin medallion of this pretended hero. It was in Egypt he was 
deified, and from that country his worship passed into Greece ; and 
there Antinous was adored as a god far less from any veneration 
for him than from a mean sycophancy towards the emperor Ha- 
drian. The Nicomedians distinguished themselves by their zeal 
for this new god, because he was bom in their city. They wor- 
shipped him under the image of Apis, and struck this medallion to 
his honour. 

It remains for examination whether this worship was antecedent 
to the idolatry of the golden calf, or whether it was established a 
long time afterwards. If it be proved that this worship was 
antecedent, it will also be demonstrated that that was the reason 
which determined Aaron to prefer the image of a calf to that of 
any other animal, and very many expositors, especially among the 
Fathers of the Church, were of this opinion. Some critics nave 
thought that the worship of Apis originated in the benefits which 
the Egyptians received from Joseph, and that the ox was a hiero- 
glyphic of that patriarch. A celeorated modem author" has em- 
ployed immense erudition to establish this idea, strengthening 
himself by the testimony of some of the ancients, as of Julius 
Matemus, who lived under Constantine the Great, Rufinus, and 
others.y He relies on a passage in Deuteronomy where Joseph is 
called an ox,' and on the nature even of Pharaoh's dream, in 
which he saw kine coming up out of the Nile, a dream which 
saved Egypt. He relies also on the fact, that nothing was more 
common among the ancients than to represent abundance under 
the emblem of an ox ; alleging other reasons, to which he adds 
arguments to prove that among the Egyptians Serapis and Apis 

* Gerard Vossios^ De Idol., cap. 9. ▼ Ibid, 

•Our translation is (Deut xxxiii. 17), *hia glory U like the fifstling of his 
bullock.' 

were 



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1849.] The Golden Calf. 79 

were the same divinity. But all these learned reasons have been 
refuted by Bochart,* and are invalidated by this single considera* 



tion that no testimony is alleged, proving that the eods whom we 
acknowledge to have been worshipped by the Egyptians under the 
image of an ox, since the age of Moses, were already worshipped 
in his time.^ There are indeed presumptions, not to say demon- 
strations of the contrary opinion m the treatise of a distinguished 
prelate on idolatry,*' which we have had frequent occasion to cite. 
We, therefore, suspend our judgment respecting the precise 
motive which determined Aaron to set up a calf as the object of 
Israelitish worship, and conclude by this reflection, that had he 
oflered any other object of worship, whether some other animal, 
or any plant, or a star, or any otiber production of nature, the 
learned would have asked, wny this rather than some other? 
Many would have been the divisions of opinion on tlie question ; 

* Bocharl, Hieroz,, part i., lib. 2. cap. 34. 

^ The recent researches in Egyptian antiqui^ have established beyon^ question 
the prior existence in Egypt of this worship, which was doubtfiil when Saarin wrote. 
We introduce a figure of the ox- god of Egypt (Apis) from the most authentic 
source, the existing sculptures of that country. — Editor. 

*" Tenison, De SUdolat., part y'u 

each 



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80 The Golden Calf. [July, 

each one would have found m antiquity, and in the nature of the 
case, probabilities to support his own sentiments, and perhaps hAve 
exalted them into demonstrations. But to resume tne thread of 
the narrative — 

Aaron built an altar and set up tiiis idol. He proclaimed a 
feast for the day following, which, he said, was to be consecrated 
to the Lord (Exod. xxxii. 5), though it was in fact an overturning 
of his worship, and a direct violation of the law which Moses had 
given them, by which they were forbidden to make gods of silv^er 
and of gold (Exod. xx. 23). The Israelites rejoiced at the pro- 
clamation of a solemnity which was to prove so fatal to tiiem. It 
seemed even too great a delay to defer it to the following day^ 
and they rose up early on the morrow (verse 6) and offered burnt- 
offerings and peace-offerings to their idol, which were only to be 
offered to God. They ate the flesh of the victims as was cus- 
tomary at peace-offerings ;* thus showing that tiiey were desirous 
of having the same communion with this idol which Aaron, 
Nadab, Abihu, and the Seventy Elders, had with God when they 
ate and drank in his presence (Exod. xxiv. 11), and afterwards 
by their songs and dances manifested their delight in this com- 
munion. It was an established custom among idolaters** to give 
these demonstrations of joy at their solemn rcasts, especially at 
those held in honour of the god Apis, in Egypt, in subsequent 
times. After keeping it for an age it was cast into the Nile ; 
they wept over its death, tiien sought for it anew, and the finding of 
it diffused universal joy. The court, the priests, the people 
assembled, and made splendid banquets.' The Israelites acted 
in a similar manner, which explains the words of Moses, ^ and the 
people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play ' (verse 6). 
Some have taken this latter expression in a more odious sense, 
conceiving that the people, intoxicated with joy, proceeded from 
idolatry to debauchery ; for people are never more induced to 
break the bounds of morality than when they have broken those 
of religion. It was common with the heatiien to commit abonun- 
able crimes after their banquets on the day of sacrifice.' The 
term to sport (Gen. xxvi. 8) in the original text admits, perhaps, 
of this signification in other places, but there is no necessity for so 
understanding it here. The sin of Israel did not consist in re- 
joicing after their devotions, because God himself desired them to 
do so after the services he had ordained (Deut. xii. 7 ; Ps. xcv. 1) ; 

^ Herod., lib. 2. cap. 40, and Deut xiL 17 ; Mishna de Sacr\ficiU, torn. t«, cap. 
6, Beet 6. 

• Herod., lib. 5. cap. 17. 

' August., vol. v., De CiviLf lib. 18. cap. 5 ; Selden, J)e Diis Syris 1. Syntag., 
cap. 4. 

s Num. xxY. 1, 2. Atben., Deipnogoph., lib. 2. cap. 3, and lib. 8. cap. 16. 

but, 



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1849.] T%e Golden Calf. 81 

but, instead of consecrating their joy to ' the Rock of their salva- 
tion,' they bestowed it on an idol. 

Thus while Moses entered into an eternal covenant between 
God and Israel on the mountain, the unhappy Israelites at the 
very moment violated its fundamental stipulation, which was 
to worship God alone. God declared this from the first, and 
no terms can be more emphatic than those which were employed 
on the occasion by the Holy Spirit : ' Go, get thee down ; for thy 
people which thou broughtest out of the land of Egypt have cor- 
rupted themselves ; they have turned aside quickly out of the way 
which I commanded them ; they have made them a molten calf 
and have worshipped it, and have sacrificed thereunto, and said, 
These be thy gods, O Israel, which have brought thee up out of 
the land of Egypt' (Exod. xxxii. 7, &c.). God would even have 
had Moses consent to the destruction of the people, and promised 
to make him the centre of the promises given to Abraham, acx;ord- 
ing to which the posterity of tnis patriarch would be numerous as 
the stars, of heaven. The words are even still more remarkable : 
' Now, therefore, let me alone, that my wrath may wax hot against 
them, and that I may consume them ; and I will make of thee a 
great nation.' Leave me, and I will destroy I God prepares to 
give free course to his vengeance, but at the moment of executing 
it, he is stopped by a greater power on the part of Moses. Moses 
resists God, but God cannot resist Moses. That arm, that in- 
vincible arm which inflicted so many strokes on Egypt, which de- 
stroyed the first-bom of the Egyptians, and overthrew Pharaoh 
and his hosts in the Red Sea, that arm fell bound by the prayers 
of Moses, and God needed a sign from his servant to destroy a 
rebellious people. Moses knew well how to avail himself of the 
advantage conceded to him by the divine goodness, and the efficacy 
of his prayer. He multiplied the obstacles he had opposed to 
God, and according to the expression of the Psalmist, ' he stood in 
the breach to turn away his wrath ' (Ps. cvi. 23). 

After having intercepted the punishment he returned to the 
guilty, carrying in his hand the tables of stone on which God him^ 
self had miraculously engraved the law of the ten commandments 
(Exod. xxxii. 16). The Rabbins ** say it was done with a sapphire 
from his throne. These tables were written within and without, 
but the form is not indicated. 

Joshua rejoined Moses ; in what precise place is not mentioned, 
but it was when he descended from the mountain. He was asto- 
nished at the noise wliich he heard from a distance in the camp, 
and imagined it was the sound of people contending against each 

^ See Ainsworth on Exod. xxxii., and the Targum ou Solomon's Song, i. 11. 
TOL. IV. — NO. VII. G other 



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83 T/tt? Gofdeu (hff. [Jviyy 

other in \«me, and expressed his astoaishni^t te Mosefih wko 
knew it was a noise proceeding froaa a still more melancholy 
cause. Scarcely had they reached the camp wjien their eyes en- 
countered the idol. Moses, mo¥ed with holy ipdignation at this 
frightful abject, dashed dowq the tables of stone in Ms anger, 
which contained the chief clauses of the covenant they were vio- 
lating. He broke them befw^ their eyes, and pjointed to them, 
to make them sensible, as a Jewish doctor* judiciously observes, 
of the greatness of the loss they bad incurred. After this he 
broke the idol to pieces, ground it to powder, strewed it upon th^ 
water which ^owed from Horeb, and made these idolat^s drink of 
it. Those who. suppose ^ that Aaron imitated the worship of the god 
Apis think that Moses had an alku>ive reference to the cerenaony 
of the ^yptians who cast that idol into the Nile, — a conclusM>n 
9L& doubtful as the basis on which it is founded. But wfcat act 
could be more expres^ve to pQur contempt upon this idol tiban to 
compel those who would! render it divine honours to eat it ? This 
however has appeared too simple an explanation for some exposi- 
tors ™ who fenoy they find the greatest mysteries of the Christian 
religion ii^ this proc^ediiag, as if Moses meant to show that the 
Messiah alone, represented by this rivulet, could expiate their 
criiBe. 

A singula? idea which ha^ hem held rejecting the wati^ 
drank by the I^yaelites,, is w^T%h mentioning. There was a^ii a^- 
ciqut tradition that the beard of all those who drank of these 
waters toG^ the colour of gold; a tradition long preserved in thcf 
church. The celebrated Bo<?ha!rt \ refers to the fragment, oi a 
versi<m of Jplxodus beg^n in the thirteenth century, in which the 
27 th yerse of the 32nd chapter is thus translated : — ' Slay every 
man, his brother, his friend, bis neighbour, namely those who have 
the golden beards:' aud this puerile gloss is subjoined to the 
text-— ^ Those who worshipped the calf had their beards gilded, 
for the powder wajs stuck there by miracle,' J h^-ve a bible iu 
Hiy study printed at Antwerp in 1531 which contains thi^ glpss. 
To what fancies are the iipaginations of men subject I 

Moses a-fterwards addressed Aaron, and reproached him for 
having stjnpped the people of their choicest omament3, that is, 
for having turned them away from th^ worship of God. Sc^me 
Rabbins ® say that the Israelites wore crowns iijigeribed with the 
name of Jehovah ; of which Aaron stripped them. Aaroij replied 

i Abarbanel in Exod., Parasch. Thisaa,, ibl. 211. 
*« See Grotius oa Exod. xxxik in vol. t of Ctiticvtms, 

m See Ainswortb on Exod. xxxii 20 ; August, vol. vi^ Hifntra FauUufn^ lib. 23. 
cap. 93. 

B Bocharf, Hieroz., part i., lib. 2. cap. 34. 
«> Tfirg. of Jeruwtero. on Exod. xxxiL 25. 

like 



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1849.] The Goldm Calf. 83 

like a man under an interdict who alleges an excuse of the insuffi- 
ciency of which he is himself aware while waiting to find one that 
is availabte. Such is the sense of these words, ' I said unto 
them., whosoever hath any gold, let them break it off: then I cast 
it into the fire, and there came out this calf (v. 24). Friyoloua 
apology I How then could a mould come out having the form of 
a calf into which a quantity of melted g(dd is poured, sufficient 
to fill it ? There is no fotmdation for the opinion of those ^ who 
maintain that Aaron had no mould, but tbsit the devil formed 
this idol ; and thus they understand the reply of Aaron. But 
his words mark the disposition of a man who wished to justify 
himself, and who could discover no reason on which to found an 
apology, but knew not how to remain silent. 

Moses resdved afterwards to inflict a punishment up<Mi some of 
the guilty that might keep others in fear, and serve ever after as 
a barrier against idolatry. He called together all who were ani- 
mated with any extraordinatv ^eal for the service of God. In^^ 
stantly the Levitea ranged themselves round him, and he issued 
that severe order which evinced that the affection with which he 
dung to the guilty did not prevent his lively sense of the outrage 
done to God, the supreme object of his love. ' And he said ttnt4> 
them, thus saith the Lord God of Israel, put every man his sword 
to his side, and go in and out from gate to gate throughout the 
camp, and slay every i&an his brother, and every man his com* 
paniein, and every man his neighbour' (v. 27). The Levites 
obeyed, and sacrineed three thouaand men to the wrath of heaven* 
A passage of St. Paul ^ misunderstood has led scmie to trandate it 
twenty-three thousand men, and this error in one bad version has 
spread through many others.' 

The strictest of all b<N3ds are those we have with God ; what^ 
ever are iDcompatible with these ought to be unreluctantly broken. 
However san^inary the conduct of the Levites might seem^ it 
deserves praise, because the ground of it was the command OH 
God, and zeal for his glory. The term employed by Moses to 
ioduee them to act is worthy of remark. It is taken from the 
sacrifices — ' Consecrate yourselves to-day to the Lord ' (v. 29). 
' To obey is better than sacrifice ' (1 Sam. xv. 22). Moses eulo- 
gised this proceeding lc»*ty years afterwards : ' Of Levi he said 
. . . who said unto his father, and to his mother, I have not seen 
him; neither did he ad^nowledge Ins brethren, nor knew his own 
children ' (Deut. xxxiii. 9)- 

p E. Juda IB Pirk^Eliezer, cap. 415. See Patrick oa Exod. zxxii. 24. 
'^ In l«t Epistle to the Corintliian» x. 7, 8| where he 1» speakiag of th6 plagtae 
related in Num. xxv, 9. 
' See Bochart, Hieroz.f part i, lib. 3. cap. 34. 

G 2 After 



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84 The Golden Calf, [July, 

After having thus oflFered three thousand victims to the wrath 
of heaven, Moses went up again into the mountain,* where he re- 
mained forty days, which were partly employed in soliciting favour 
for the rest of the guilty persons ; and nothing is more worthy of 
imitation than the ctiarity he displayed in his importunity. ' Oh, 
this people have sinned a great sin, and have made them sods of 
gold. Yet now, if thou wilt forgive their sin — and if not, blot me, 
I pray thee, out of thy book which thou hast written.'* Some 
divines suppose that Moses offered to sacrifice his eternal salvation 
for the love of Israel. We will not dispute with them, but a single 
word seems to me sufficient for their refutation, and that is given 
by M. de la Placetti,'* one of those men who has made himself 
most worthy of the praise bestowed by God on Moses, that he was 
the meekest of all men. ' Moses/ says this learned author, ' did 
not say that he consented to be efiaced from the book of life on 
the condition that God would pardon this people ; *in that case we 
might imagine that he wished to sacrifice nis salvation to theirs. 
On the contrary, he requests to be blottfed out of that book, if his 
prayer were rejected ; pardon their sin, or blot me from thy book. 
But who does not see it would be as monstrous to understand it of 
eternal damnation, as it is most appropriate to explain it of a pre- 
mature death ? What could be more impious than to say, I wish 
to be eternally lost, if thou dost not grant the favour which I ask ? 
and what, on the contrary, more admirable than to say, if thou 
hast resolved to destroy this people, spare me the grief of surviving 
it, and hearing the insults and blasphemies of our enemies I Raise 
me to that world where I shall not drag out a life more bitter and 
imsupportable than death.' We subjoin to the words of this 
author a parallel passage in the book of Numbers — ' And Moses 
said unto the Lord, W herefore hast thou afflicted thy servant ? 
And wherefore have I not found favour in thy sight, that thou 
lay est the burden of all this people upon me ? Have I conceived 
all this people ? Have I begotten them that thou shouldest say 
unto me. Carry them in thy bosom, as a nursing father beareth 
the sucking child, unto the land which thou swearest unto their 
fathers ? .... I am not able to bear all this people alone, be- 
cause it is too heavy for me. And if thou deal thus with me, kill 
me, I pray thee, out of hand, if I have found favour in thy sight ; 
and let me not see my wretchedness' (Exod. xi. 11, 12, 14, 15). 

We believe we can prove, not only that Moses had no desire to 

• Lightfoot thinks it was three times forty days. See Spicil. in Exod,, sect. 31. 

* See on this expression Ps. Ivi. 4; Ixxxvii. 6; cxxxix. 16; Esdr. iv. 3; Dan. 
xii. 1 ; Philip, iv. 3 ; Rev. iii. 5. In these passages God is represented as keeping 
a register, after the manner of men. 

" M. de la Placetti's Dissertations on various Moral Sahjects, ch. 16. 

sacrifice 



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1849.] The Golden Calf. 85 

sacrifice his salvation, but that no hypothesis can be made to jus- 
tify such a sacrifice. It appears to us there is excessive enthusiasm 
in the sentiments of some who have rendered themselves celebrated 
in devotional mysticism. We cannot subscribe to such a state- 
ment as the following : — :' The good pleasure of God is the supreme 
object of the passive soul (Fame indiflerente) ; so that it would 
rather choose hell with the will of God than paradise without it. 
It would prefer even hell to heaven, if it knew that there it would 
have a little more of that good pleasure of God.* Among the 
saints proposed as models in Scripture, we find no example of the 
submission of Angelus of Foligni,^ who says in a start of enthu- 
siasm — ' Though I were damned 1 would not fail to do penance, 
and strip me of all for the love of God. If thou choosest, O my 
God, to cast me into hell, defer it no longer ; make haste, and 
since thou hast forsaken me, end it, and plunge me into the abyss.'* 
Nor can we approve the emotions of Catherine of Siena* — 
'Though it were possible to feel all the pains of devils- and of all 
damned souls, never could I say, however, that they were pains, 
so much a pure love would find of goodness in it.' 

Moreover, we have we believe proved elsewhere,^ that the system 
of disinterested love is untenable, even with the limitations 
adopted by some divines, especially M. Elias Saurin, in his treatise 
on the love of God.*^ This author maintains that the duty we owe 
to God extends even to the sacrifice of our salvation, and this vow 
ought to be in the heart of all Christians : ' I love God, and by 
the power of this love I give him all I can give him. I give my- 
self to him, and with mvself I give him all I am, and all I hope. 
I renounce all, so that God may be glorified, and to such a degree 
that if my salvation could be a sacrifice to the glory of my God, 
my salvation should cost me nothing in opposition to the glory of 
my God, as I am myself nothing in opposition to mj God. 

But the supposition that the glory of God may require the 
sacrifice of our salvation is, in our view, not only impossible but 
contradictory ; but in logic it is verv admissible to make impos- 
sible suppositions, though not to make contradictory ones. It is 
very admissible to lay down a false principle to ascertain what 
consequence would necessarily follow from it, but it is not allow- 
able to lay down one which would destroy the very consequence 
itself which it is wished to deduce from it. It is not allowable to 
suppose that God afiirms a contradiction, and to maintain that in 
this case it is necessary to believe in his word, because it is 

* See J. B. Bossaet, bishop of Meaux, Instruct, Pastor, p. 331. 
y Ibid. • Ibid. • Ibid, 

^ Sauriu's Sermons, vol. iii. ; Sermon sur la plus Subiime Devotion, 
" Part i., chap. 14, &c. 

supremely 



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H The GoUsn Calf. \3vL\y, 

supremely true. For to suppose that God affirms a (xmtradiction 
U to establish Uutt he is not supremely true, and this suraositicm 
desUroys the conclusion wished to be deduced from it. JBut it is 
clear, as it appears to me, that die duty of sacrificing his ealYation, 
upon the supposition that the glory oi God requires it, is a con- 
dition not only impossible but contradictory. Why, according to 
the idea even of those whom we oppose, is God worthy of so 
great a sacrifioe from the intelligent creature ? Because God is 
supremely amiable. But if God demanded such a sacrifice, he 
would no longer be supremely amiable ; consequently he would 
no lopger deserve to be supremely loved. This would be a God 
whose strange glory would be requiring that which is least glorious 
to a perfect being, namely, to damn everlastingly a creature who 
would be entirely devoted to him. This would be a cruel and 
barbarous God, who would take pleasure in seeing men sufferinjg 
eternally who were capable of resolving to sufler eternally for his 
glory. We conclude, therefore, that the example of Moses does 
^ot countenance such a system of disinterested love as the sacrifice 
of one's own salvation. 

It is added that God ^ repented of the evil which he thought to 
do unto his people.' Profound ignorance or malice cHiIy couM 
have induced Julian the Apostate ^ to infer from this expression 
that God is subject to change. It signifies that God granted to 
Moses favour for Israel, or rather the delay oT their punishment, 
whose numberless crimes afterwards forced, as it were, the Deity 
to destroy them. Thus when God yielded to the entreaties of 
Moses he said, ' Nevertheless in the day when I visit I will visit 
their 8i» upon them' (Exod. xxxii. 34). By the day must be 
imdorstood those melancholy times in which God seems to unite 
in one period the crimes committed by a people in many others, 
and the Jewish people had seen various occasions of this kind. 
The Jews say ® even to this day what their fathers have said before 
them, that no misfortune comes upon them which has not an ounce 
of the golden calf in it. They celebrate even now the anniversary 
of the breaking of the tables of the law by a solemn fast ; and St ' 
Jerome ^ and some other expositors have thought that the prophet 
Zechariah had this solemnity in view when speaking of ' the fast of 
the fourth month' (Zech. viii. 19). 



Thus far M. Saurin. It may be permitted to subjoin a few 
remarks. At the commencement of this dissertation the learned 

^ Cyril of Alexan., torn, v., in Julian, lib. 5. 

• K. Isaac in Gemar, tit. Sanhedr., cap. 11, fol. lOS. 

' Jerom.y torn, v., on Zech. viii. 19. 

writer 



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fore, of the passage in question should have heen, ' and he rece 
them, and tied them in a bag.' llaving done so, he had them 



received 
cast 



184&.] Th6 Golden Cdtf. 4t 

Writer refers to the ambiguity of the original languagfe, which he 
says mAy signify either that Aaron received the ear*ring8 in a 
bAg at that he graved them with a graving tool, referring to the 
disputes on the subject as an argument for critical doubts. But 
we must beware of admitting the plausibilities of ingenious etymo^ 
logists as evidence against the preciseness of historical statements. 
It is clear that the translators nave committed an error in their 
tendering of Exod. xxxii. 4. The words are ink IVJI D^Jt? ng»JL 
b'jha. The word iv signifies to tie up or bind, as well as to 
form into shape, and lann signifies a bag. Both these words are 
used in 2 Kings v. 23, where Naaman is said to have ' bound (or 
tied up) two talents of silver in two bags.' The rendering, there- 
" e, of * 

m, a 
into a molten calf. 

The pulverizing of the gold and rendering It potable has very 
much perplexed many writers, as it is supposed that so difficult an 
operation of chemistry could not have been performed in the wil- 
derness. But though Moses could not have accomplished this by 
simple calcination or amalgamation, yet this drink might have been 
made after the present method, by making use of tne Egyptian 
natron instead of tartar, which is Common in the East.* 

It is not certain that the conduct of Aaron is exhibited in this 
discourse in exactly the proper light, or that it has in general been 
fully understood. A careful examination of all the details and 
references in Scripture will, we think, make it obvious that while 
it is a mistake to imagine that Aaron did not commit a great sin, 
his criminality was not precisely of the kind usually imputed to 
him. It did not consist in endeavouring to supersede the worship 
of the true God by substituting idolatrous worship, nor in coun- 
tenancing the absurdity that the services of the true and a fals6 
religion might be legitirnately intermingled, althouch, while facili- 
tating the worship of the golden calfj he reminded the people, ' to- 
morrow is a feast to the Lord.' When Jehovah spoke to Moses on 
the subject in the mount he said, ' Thy people have corrupted 
themselves,' — * they have made a molten calf. The guilt of the 
transaction is also imputed to the petople in general in the Acts of 
the Apostles, in the speech of Stephen — * to wliom (Moses) our 
fathers would not obey, but thrust hito from them, and in their 
hearts turned back again into Egypt, saying unto Aaroti, Make us 
gods to go before us \ for as for this Moses, which brought us out 
— ' — - — - - - 

< The retder irill fiad some Taluafble remarks upon th^ arts implied in the fabri- 
catton and destruction of the golden calf in Dr. Memes' article, • Fine Art among 
tUfc Jel^ti/ it th6 fifth Ko. of thlft Journal, pp. «0-70.— EDrroa. 

of 



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88 On Women praying toith Uncovered Heads : [July, 

of the land of Ecypt, we wot not what is become of hira. And fkey 
made a calf in those days, and offered sacrifice unto the idol, and 
rejoiced in the works of their own hands ' (Acts vii. 39-41). In 
the apology by which Aaron attempted to avert the anger of Moses 
he pleads that ^he knew the people^ that they were set on mischief/ 
and implies it was not he but they that made the golden calf. It 
seems, therefore, that he was not the instigator of this daring 
outrage, that he did not approve it, and made a faint opposition 
by reminding the people of the ensuing feast to the Lord on the 
morrow. What, tnen, it may be inquired, was the sin of Aaron 
if, adhering in principle to the worship of the true God, he neither 
originated nor sympathized with the idolatrous service? The 
answer is, he was a timid time-server; his principles were not 
strong enough for the occasion ; he was afraid of personal conse- 
quences from the tumultuous gatherings of the multitude; He 
had the spirit of fear when the spirit of martyrdom was required, 
and partook largely of the character of that unworthy class of 
persons who are denounced in the book of the Revelations as ' the 
fearful.' His therefore was not so much positive rebellion as cul- 
pable timidity. It was a wrong to religion ; it was a wrong to his 
own high character ; it was a wrong to the God of Israel, whose 
servant he was, and whom he professed to obey. The creature's 
frown was more to him at the moment than the Creator's smile. 
This is precisely that miserable policy by which so many to the 
present hour dishonour their principles, disgrace their profession, 
and hazard their eternal welfare. They would fain have the 
crown of glory, but would be excused from the crown of thorns. 



PAUL'S REBUKE OF WOMEN PRAYING WITH 
UNCOVERED, HEADS: 

A NEW INTERPRETATION OP I. CORINTHIANS, Chap. xi. 10. 

By the Rev. Robert Knight. 

Although the principal object of the following remarks is the 
elucidation of 1 Cor. xi. 10, yet I do not intend to confine them 
to the examination of this particular portion of the chapter. 
The examination of any portion of the sacred writings may be 
naturally supposed to involve an examination of the context ; but, 
in the present instance, this is not the only nor the principal 
reason for doing so, for, having been led to investigate the passage, 
with a view of endeavouring to explain that part which is con- 
sidered 



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1849.] A New Literpretation of 1 Cor. xi. 10. 89 

sidered obscure and which has received various interpretations, I 
have been brought to regard the whole in a diflFerent light from 
that in which I believe it has been hitherto almost universally 
viewed, and to question the received interpretation of that part 
of it respecting which there has been among commentators no 
difference of opinion. Whatever minor diflFerences there may be 
in the interpretations of the different commentators upon this 
passage, all of them, I believe, agree in this, that the censure of 
St. Paul is directed against the supposed practice of the Corinthian 
women praving or prophesying in their public devotional assem- 
blies witn their heads uncovered. 

' In the fourteenth chapter of the same epistle, in which these 
words are found, and in the thirty-fourth verse, the Apostle says, 
' Let your women keep silence in the churches, for it is not 
permitted unto them to speak ;' and in the second chapter of his 
first epistle to Timothv, the eleventh and twelfth verses, * Let 
the woman learn in silence ;' and again, ' But I suffer not a 
woman to teach, but to be in silence.' 

In these expressions there is not the slightest ambiguity or room 
for difference of opinion ; they are plain and pointed, and con- 
clusively prove that it was quite contrary to the will of God, and 
to that subordination in which she was placed, and therefore to 
apostolical order, as maintained in all the primitive churches, for 
a woman to speak authoritatively in the assemblies of Chris- 
tians. 

Such being the case, the supposition that the Apostle's state- 
ments, in the present passage, refer to the apparel of the woman, 
can only be supported in two ways, either hy conjecturing that, 
in speaking of her praying or prophesying with her head unco- 
vered, he does not mean aloud, or as taking a leading part, but 
simply to her being present and joining in subordination or silently 
in the sacred services ; or else, as Whitby supposes, * Although 
the Apostle does not here approve of, the woman's praying or 
prophesying in the churches, here he says nothing to the contrary, 
as intending to rectify that disorder when he spake of other dis- 
orders in the case of prophesying.' 

It would scarcely have been consistent with candour and 
common sense, much less with the wisdom and unfeigned sin- 
cerity of an inspired apostle, to take up any part of his epistle, 
with the censure of an impropriety in the doing of that which was 
radically wrong in itself, especially when that impropriety natu- 
rally sprang from the abuse with which it was connected, and 
when, moreover, he intended to forbid, in the same epistle, the 
abuse itself, and would therefore, with the abuse, remove the im- 
propriety which was grafted on it. 

But 



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$0 On W(meA p-aying with Vncmred Heads : [July, 

But this is not the full extent of the inconsistency which such 
a conjecture takes for granted : for it farther supposes St. Paul to 
attack the outward semblance of insubordination, in the first 
place, while he leaves room by his silence for believing that that, 
m which the reality and substance of insubordination was mani- 
fested, was not censurable ; or by placing it last in order, wa6 at 
any rate only censurable in an Inferior degree, or that he ^ves di- 
rections how that is to be done, which his subsequent charge 
proves that he intended should not be done at all ; as if a parent 
should, in writing to a child, warn him against a practice, and, 
in the same letter, give him instructions how to follow it, and 
thus not only prove that he doubted his willingness to yield to his 
authority, but by placing the instructions how to follow the prac- 
tice which he intended to forbid, first in order, give such a pro- 
ceeding the greatest possible force. 

It may be said, in the second place, that the caution of the 
Apostle is directed, not against their taking a prominent part, 
but merely against their appearing uncovered in the public as- 
semblies 5 but this position is equfidly untenable with the forhner. 

In the first place, this intei'pretatibn does m&.nifest violence to 
the language of the Apostle, for it would certainly have been 
much more natural for him simply to have spoken against theii' 
appeariiig uncovered, if this was what he meant, than to have 
made use of a phraseology not only ambiguous and likely to be 
misinterpreted, but positively defective, as limiting a direction, 
which should guide them at all times, to particular occasions and 
circumstances. If, moreover, the Corinthian women had laid 
themselves op6n to rebuke for want of modesty and shamfe-faced- 
ness in their deportment, it was not likely that this would have 
exhibited itself more prominently in their devotional meetiilg6 
than elsewhere or at other times^ for when were correct feelings 
connected with their deportment more likely to exist in all theif 
strength and holy power, •than when they were under the teachittg 
of God, and met together in his name ? Hence it does liot seeto 
at all likely that the Apostle, in warning them against the mani- 
festation of an improper spirit in their deportment. Would have 
made use of an expression which would have limited this admdni- 
tion to any particular place or circumstances, and less likely tJiat 
he would hate limited it to those in which it was likely to appear 
in its most mitigated form. 

It has been supposed by some commentators that the declara- 
tion of the Apostle, * That the woman should have power on her 
head, because of the angels,* refers to persons who introduced 
themselves into Christian assemblies with a view of detecting, if 
possible, some ground for accusation or calumny. The interpre* 

tation 



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lS4d.] A New IwUrpretaitM of I Cor. %i. 10* 91 

tation proposed in the present examination of ihe text diflers 
entirely from this, bat the motive assigned by those who hold it 
for modesty of carriage, is in perfect accordaiMe with the word of 
God at large, and with a particular passage, which refers to the 
very same subject. It was the duty of all Christians to let their 
light so shine before men that they might see their good woriu 
and glorify their heavenly Father. It was reckoned a qualifica- 
tion of high importance in a bislx^ that he be well reported of them 
that are without, and Christian wives were to seek to win their 
unbelieving husbands to the faith by their chaste conv^'sation, 
coupled with fear^ and by wearing the ornament of a meek and 
quiet spirit, and so to act that me word of God might 2K)t be 
blai^emed ; but the reasons for this conduct and wt cifcttm^ 
spection existed, if not in greater, in as great force in other places 
as in Christian assemblies. If any persons ever entered these 
with a view of accusing and traducing Christians, they must have 
been comparatively few in number; whereas when the women 
appeared m public elsewhere they were surrounded by hundreds 
of prying observ^is ready to detect the least approach to impro- 
priety of conduct, to make the most of it, and from the slightest 
manifestation of it in circumstances whk^h imposed upon them 
the strongest possible restraint, namely the presence of watdiful 
enenues of their feith, to conclude that it existed in a greater de- 
gree, and was manifested in a more glaring manner where, sur- 
rounded by friends, they^ could act with greater freedom. If also 
they were to endeavour to win their husbands to the faith, it was 
not by their deportment in Christian assemblies, to which their 
husbsjids seldom if ever went, but when in their society, either in 
public or private. These will, I think, be admitted as strong 
reasmis why the Apoi^le, if their outward deportment was what 
he had in view, would have been likely to have used language 
which would not have limited his injunction to any particular 
times or places, much less to those in which an impropriety was 
least likely to occur, and least liable to misinterpretation^ from 
the comparative absence of enemies ; ai^d if this rationing required 
farther confirmation, it will be found in the circumstance, that in 
those other portions of Scriptwe which refer to the deportment of 
tjie women, we find no such limitation. 

It must be admitted, that, without doing much violence to the 
language, we might imagine that the Apostle refers merely to 
their presence wb^n he uses the word praying ; because praying 
is an exercise in which one person may engage^ not only in sikiiiee, 
but ill which they can unite with or follow another as leader of 
their devotioi^ ; but how could this be predicated of prophesying 
or teaching, which is perfectly inconsistent with silence, or even 

equality, 



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92 On Women praying tmih Uncovered Heads : [July, 

eauality, not to speak of subordination, so that the interpretation, 
wnich understands the expression, as merely signifying the 
woman's presence, cannot be reconciled with the terms employed, 
or at any rate with the latter. 

There is, however, another and an insuperable objection to this 
explanation, for it rests upon the supposition either that the 
women had not taken a prominent part in the devotional assem- 
blies, or that St. Paul was ignorant of or did not intend to notice 
this abuse. But, from more than one prohibition against it, it is 
evident both that the women had taken a leading part, and that 
the Apostle knew of and strongly reprobated sucn a proceeding ; 
and hence we are justified in concluding that, in speaking in the 
terms employed in the passage under consideration, he must have 
had this practice in view. 

The dijBSculties and contradictions attending both the preceding 
explanations are so palpable that they have led some commentators 
to conclude, in contradiction to the plain and express words of the 
Apostle, that the women were allowed to prophesy in the church ; 
but an examination of the fourteenth chapter will show this con- 
clusion to be erroneous, for the express injunction that they be 
silent immediately follows the other directions with respect to 
prophesy. It is said, indeed, in the twenty-first chapter of the 
book of Acts, that the four daughters of Philip did prophesy ; but 
this seems to have been in a difierent sense from that in which 
the word prophesy is used when connected, as in the passage under 
consideration, wifli other stated and public religious exercises, as 
praying. 

That the gift with which these virgins were endued was one 
which was not commonly or extensively bestowed, seems probable 
from the circumstance of the writer of the book of Acts taking 
special notice of it, which he would scarcely have done had it been 
a gift common to the ordinary members of the Christian churches, 
either male or female. It is therefore not unlikely that it was 
similar to the gift possessed by Agabus, who is mentioned imme- 
diately after them — namely, the prediction of future events ; while 
the prophesying to which the Apostle refers in the present passage, 
and those paradlel to it, was clearly of a difierent character, and 
seems, from its eflects, to have been a peculiarly close and searching 
exposition and application to the conscience, of that word which is 
quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, 
piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the 
joints and marrow, and which is a discemer of the thoughts and 
intents of the heart ; for in reference to it, and its superiority over 
unknown tongues, the Apostle says, ' But if all prophesy, and 
there cometh in one that believeth not, or one unlearned, he is 

convinced 



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1849.] A New Interpretatim of 1 Cor. xi. 10. 93 

convinced of all, he is judged of all, and thus are the secrets of 
his heart made manifest, and so, falling down on his face, he will 
worship God, and report that God is m you of a truth.' But of 
what character soever the gift possessed by the daughters of Philip 
was, we have no reason for inferring that they exercised it pub- 
licly, or at any rate in a mixed assembly of men and women, of 
sufficient force to be placed in opposition to the express prohibition 
of such a practice by the Apostle. 

From these considerations, and the inconsistencies which such 
interpretations involve, I have been led to think that the Apostle's 
admonition is not directed against their mode of apparelling them- 
selves at all, and in support of this opinion I would adduce the 
following arguments : — 

1st. According to the view which supposes the apparel to be 
the subject in question, the apostle is pursuing a double line of 
argument and admonition, and censuring not only the apparel of 
the woman, but that of the man also ; and it would seem that 
an abuse had crept in, the origin of which cannot be rationally 
accounted for, the men having adopted the effeminate habit of 
wearing long hair, and veiling their heads when they prayed or 
prophesied in the church, and the women having assumed a pro- 
portionably masculine appearance when similarly engaged — a most 
extraordinary abuse certainly, and one which bears on the face of 
it such manifest improbability as to require very clear and decided 
testimony of its existence ; and this testimony, it may I think be 
shown, does not exist in the passage itself. 

It may be said, indeed, that the covering alluded to as worn by 
the man was not a veil ; but it is evident that, if the Apostle is 
speaking of any material covering, it is the same, the use of which 
be approves of on the part of the woman, and reprobates in the 
man ; and this receives farther confirmation from the connection 
between it and the long hair, which is also spoken of as censurable 
in the one case and commendable in the other, upon the same 
principles as tiie covering spoken of. 

Unless it was a covering of this kind, the force of the Apostle's 
reasoning upon headship and subordination would be lost, for 
while a veil was looked upon as a mark of subjection, it was, I 
imagine, the only covering emblematic of this state, while many 
head-dresses were significant of the very reverse. Amongst our- 
selves, the wearing the covering of the nead, while others are un- 
covered, is an emblem of authority of no mean order ; and where 
not sanctioned by law or established usage, and from connection 
with office or decided eminence in rank, it is looked upon as an 
assumption of superiority, and regarded as offensive. It may be 
said in answer, that this arises &om difference of custom, and 

that 



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9i On Women praying wiih Uncovered Heads : [ July* 

that from the practice pf modem natiooA we can draw no inference 
with respect to those of antiqaity ; but this is untenable. What 
has its foandation in nature is equally binding on all nations and 
in all ages> and will be in all the same ; and if the Apo&tle is re- 
ferring to any practice of tbia kind, he suj^rts his argument on 
tliis principle, that his reasons against it are based on the laws of 
nature, and not on an arbitrary custom ; but even if this was the 
case, we know that many coyeriugs of the head were indicatiye of 
the yery reverse of subjecticHd^ and that no known covering was 
significant of subjection but a veil. A Christian soldier in hi» 
hekoety an Olympic victor with his erow% or a Jew with one of 
those horns wcvn by eastern nations — to which, as emblemed of 
power, we find such numerous allusions in the Old Testament— 
woidd have suggested a veiy diffiurent idea. Indeed the un- 
covering, and not the covering of the kead^ among some of the 
nations of most ancient origin^ is still considered as a most de- 
grading mark of subjection.* 

Hence we are, I think, justified in concluding tfaat, if tba 
Apostle had in view^ their apparel, the wearing l<Hig hair and 
veiling their faces were the practices which he reproved in th€^ 
men, and the reverse in the womeuw 

It is evident, however,, that if the women had laid aside t&d^ 
neilS);, and the men assumed them, they bad not fully carried oui 
the mutual transfer ; f<M: the women still wore long hair, and 
wouM bane counted it disgracefial Ho have had it shorn ; and here 
we have a strong argument against the supposition that tbek 
head-dress was the p(Mnt in question, for the Apostle says that the 
long hair of tbe woman wa^ a glory to her, for it was givea her 
for a covering, and (me oi such a character as to be embl^natia 
of the relation in winch she stood to the man, and this covering 
and emblem she had not hud aside. Is it not then singular i» 
suppose that he should censure the wc^nan for the want of aui 
artificial covering which their cireumstances perhaps in some casesf 
might not permit them to procure, while they wcnre the one pro- 
vided by nature, which was as< decidedly significant of subjection 

■ * During the var which happened about ten. years aga between the Tbwara' aad 
Maazy Bedouins, who live in the mountains between Cairo and Cosseir, a party oi 
the former happened to be stationed here [at the well of Aban Szoueyr^ in Sinn} 
with their fkmiUes. They were snrpvised one moniing by a troop of tiieir enemies^ 
while assembled in the sheikh's tent to drink coffee. Seyeu or ei^ht of them were 
cut down ; the sheikh himself, an old man, seeing escape impossible, sat down by 
the ftf^. When: the leader of the Mftazy came upi and cried out to him to throw 
down his' turban aad hia life would be spared, the generous sheikh, rather thaft 
do what, according to Bedouin notioiis, would have stained his reputation for «yer 
after, exclaimed, *• I shall not uncover my head before my enemies;" and was 
immediately killed wlih the thrust of a lanoe.* — BvncxsAsabr's JVavela in SynHi> 
p. 471. 

as 



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iai9.] A Net^ fy^rpr^t^atian of 1 (Jor. jO- 10. 95 

a,8 wy tbey coul^ ^aBiuna? TberQ is also indubitaUe^ ovidenoe 
that in ihm^ tixost^ tl^ m&a. wore shprt hair j $nd therefore to 
aijippoae the rever^^ in the Corinthian oonverts involves the suih 
position, that, possessing the light of revelation, they had erred la 
a poiQt in whidb^ th^ light of lii^tiire had guided their hfatben 
hrethreQ correctly} or that iiu^re^^ed light pad ^ven rise to pro* 
portionate error. 

ThQ arhitra^ry introd^otiw of a sense, with reference to th^ 
w^d head, diflTerupg tvim that m which the Apostle introduces it, 
^d whiqh we have oo ^tbority therefore for cooelnding that h^ 
intended it should hear in any Bart of the passage, aiid thai a 
siense aa diSerept ^oia the one wnich he positively attaches to it 
a^ headship ^ fi^ook a lleshly head ; and the connision of these 
two senses, according to the i^neral inter[Nnetatioi^ Kendier it sus** 
piciooai 

Thus the head with which the Apostle opens his address, is, ha 
te^Us us, a mystical we; but by the interpretatioa which supposes 
the attire to he the Better in queatioa, it is made, by a mere pre* 
gumption, to iifffify quite a different tbiag — namely, a fleshly oc 
ViatHOral head ; and not only ao^ but it is then arbitrarily taken in 
one sense in ov^ apd ia aoother ^ense in the other clause of th# 
succeeding verses. For instance, verse fourth, ' Every man, havrng 
bi^ miur(U bfiod cohered, dishonoureth hia 9pirUmk or rnyMcal 
Imd^ that ia Christ. But ev^ry woviao, praying or praj^esying 
with he^ nafw^^ baod uncovered,, dishoQOureth her si&c%qI heaa^ 
that is ilian.' 

This su^dei^a^d unauthorized tran^tioq. from the mystical sense 
attached to the word head by the Apostle, and the subsequent coar 
fus^ion of this p^ysrtical sense and that which has boen thus- oI>* 
truded, I Q^m^er inconsistent with the pinciples of sound OKposi* 
tioQ and accurate eriitWi^m, aii^ therefore inadmassiUe^ unless 
wpported by unambiguous tQstimanjy fron^ parallel passages^ or 
worthy and direiet historical evidence that sucu abuses prevail^. 

Th^ i^nterpi^etatie^ proposed in the pvesent examination does 
not, however,; exclude trom the Ap<9atle s meaning, in the passage 
at large, all allusion to a material covering or head-dress^ It 
admits this to- be the case, hut goes to prove that this is not the 
object of the Apostle's censure, and that, where be makes an allu** 
aion of this chari^t^, he doe^ so with a view of addueing it as an 
^rguiuent a^ainsA another practice which he was condemning ; and 
it po^esses thi^. consistency, that it does not introduce another 
seosa tbau that indicated hy the Apostle in reference to the word 
h^,; and then ctai^foupd the two senses in an iK*bit(ary manner. 

V liwnw't Intredtuftivn, iuw 40S. 

It 



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96 On Women praying with Uncovered Heads : [July, 

It grounds the transition from the mystical to the natural sense 
upon a marked difference and transition in phraseology — ^a suffi- 
cient basis, and perfectly consistent with the rules of sound criti- 
cism. 

The object which I con^der the Apostle as having in view in 
this passage, is not the censure of any particular dress when they 
prayed or prophesied, but simply the prohibiting the women from 
takmg a le^ng part in any of the public services of the church ; 
and thus, in a promiscuous assembly, placing the men in a sub- 
ordinate position, and one inconsistent with the social station which 
it was the will of God that the woman should occupy ; and having 
stated this, I will proceed to a free paraphrase of the passage, fol- 
lowed by some explanatory remarKS, and then contrast the two 
interpretations. 

Ver. 3. — But I would have you know that (spiritually or 
mystically) the head of every man is Christ, from whom he re- 
ceives all bis supplies of wisdom, and to whose influences and 
authority he should yield as prompt an obedience as the members 
of the body do to the head ; and the head of the woman, in a 
similar sense, is the man (she being subject to him by Grod's 
institution), and the head of Christ (in his mediatorial capacity) 
is God. 

Ver. 4.— Every man praying or prophesying (x«Ta xe^aX^s- 
cXA/v), holding himself, or being apart from his head, allowing 
himself to be degraded in position, by descending from immediate 
to mediate connection with his mystical head, or else having any- 
thing (ti subaudito) upon his mystical head, that is, which by its 
intervention between him and Christ, leads him to look to Christ 
as it were through a veil, alluding to the woman's acting as a 
medium, in communicating his pra^^ers to Christ, or his teachings 
from Christ, dishonoureth his mystical head, that is, Christ, both 
by lightly esteeming the privilege of immediate connection with so 
glorious a head, and by delegating to his inferior in authority a 
position between him and Christ, which is contrary to the due sub- 
ordination and relative position of the members of Christ's mys- 
tical body. 

Ver. 5. — But it is equally clear that any woman praying or pro- 
phesying aloud, while her social head, that is, a man, or assembly 
of men, depended upon her for guidance in their devotions and for 
teaching, and were thus placed in a position subordinate to her, 
did away, by such a proceeding, with the subjection which she 
owed to the man, stripped him of that authority and pre-eminence 
with which God had clothed him, and thus dishonoured her social 
head, or the man, by degrading him ; and in thus acting, she 
might be said to pray for or prophesy to her social head uncovered, 

or 



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1849.] A Neio Interpretaiian of 1 Cor. xi. 10. 97 

or with her social head uncovered, that is, stripped of that authority 
and pre-eminence over her which marked him out as a covering 
to her : he being socially to her what long hair was naturally, a 
covering. 

Now this would be morally and socially as disgraceful, as it 
would be, according td the usages of the state of society in which 
the Corinthians lived, for the woman (here, where there is a tran- 
sition to natural covering, it is to be observed that the word head 
is not introduced) to be shaven or shorn. 

Ver. 6. — ^But if this was really disgraceful, it was so from its 
being emblematic of a woman having no acknowledged head or 
protector, and from her occupying a position as anomalous in the 
social and moral world as one without hair would be in the 
natural world. Let the woman therefore make no approach to 
such a situation by usurping that authority or pre-eminence asso- 
ciated inseparably with man's protection and her union with him ; 
let her, in their public assemblies, be silent, and thus wear herself 
the garment of subjection, while the man, or her social head, 
praying for or prophe^ing aloud to her, was clad with that 
authority and pre-eminence which belonged to him as such. 

Ver. 7. — For a man ought not to have his head covered, that is, 
any medium or mediator in a qualified sense between him and 
Christ, man being the immediate and direct representative of the 
invisible God, who alone had authority over him. But if the 
woman taught hiin publicly, or held him in a subordinate position, 
she then became to him what he should be to her, a covering, 
intercepting as it were the direct communication between him and 
his heavenly or mystical head, while he became subject to her 
teaching, and she usurped his position and authority. 

Ver. 8. — For the man did not originally proceed from the 
woman, but the woman from the man ; and as the man was the 
glory of God, being created uk his image, so, in like manner, was 
the woman the glory of the man, being bone of his bone and flesh 
of his flesh. 

Ver. 9. — Neither was the man created for the woman, but the 
woman for the man, as an help meet for him and to replenish the 
earth. 

Ver. 10. — [On one account indeed she had and ought to have 
power over her social head, or the man, her desire being to him, 
lest, if she had not this power, the devil by his angels, or those 
who were his emissaries and children, might tempt her to incon- 
tinence.] Compare chap. vii. ver. 4. The wife hath not power of 
her own body^ but the husband ; and likewise also the husband 
hath not power of his own body, but the wife. 

Ver. 11. — Nevertheless, although subordinate to man as having 

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. H been 



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98 On Women praying toith Uncovered Heads : [ Jii]y» 

been originally created firom and for him, yet notwithfttanding 
neither was the woman without the man, nor we man without the 
woman in Christ, but mystically and socaally united themselyes, so 
as to be one flesh, they existed in him in joint dependance on their 
common head, as being heirs together of the grace of life. - 

Ver. 12. — For as the woman in the first instance owed her ex- 
istence to the man, so the himian race had been dependant on the 
woman for their continuance, and to her seed without the man for 
redemption : but both creation and redemption and all things are 
ultimately to he attributed to God alone. 

Ver, 13.— But they could easily judoe for themselves, without any 
abstruse or refined reasoning upon me subject ; for nature itself 
taught them that it was unbecoming for a woman (the word head 
is here not introduced, in acoordanoe with the reason assigned 
above) to pray uncovered ; nature having provided her with an 
appropriate or material covering. 

Ver. 14.— For nature itself su^ests the impropriety of the most 
distant approach to subjection to we woman on the part of man, 
by leading men to consider even such a semblance of it as long 
hair, a reproach, which is the case even among those who have not 
gospeMight, as, for example, your heathen brethren. 

Ver. 15. — But among women, on the contrary, long hair is con- 
sidered a slory and an ornament, as being a natural and significant 
emblem oi her relation to man, and as harmonising with the sub- 
jection which she owed to him. 

Ver. 4,— ^The first of these interpretations, which supposes 
8WTav to be undetstood, of which Vigerus gives sev^al instances,^ 
accords very strikingly with a passage in which angels, not women, 
are the intercepting medium between man and Christ. The 
passage is the nineteenth verse of the second chapter of the Epistle 
to the Colosaians, in which the Apostle, reprobating the worshipping 
of angel^ says, ^ Let no man beguile you of your reward in a volun- 
tary humility^ and worshipping of angels, intruding into those things, 
whlM3h he hath not seen, vainly puff^.up by bis fleshly mind, and 
not holdip^ the bead, mi oi h^^to^ t^jx x^^^eXiv, that is, relin- 

^uishing or letting go his immediate hold of and connection with 
Ihrist, his head, by introducing, in a voluntary humility or sub- 
jection, mediators between Chnst and himself. A comparison of 
the two passages will, I think, elucidate the onp under consider- 
ation, and support the interpretation here prc^^ed. 

It is to be observed afeo that, according to the generally re- 
ceived interpretation, the assigning a sense not mystical to the 
word head, in the first clause of this verse, is| grouxHied solely on. 
the presumption that tiie Apostle is speaking of their apparel, but 

to 



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1849.] A New Interpretation ofl Car. xi. 10. 99 

to ground an interpretation upon a presumption^ and tben to 
establish that presumption by the interpretation, is a course of 
reasoning which is altogether inadmissible. In the interpretation 
here advanced, on the contrary, there is a reference to material 
covering in the sixth and thirteenth verses ; but the case is quite 
different. In these places a difference of expressiini warrants the 
belief of a difference of signiiScation, and there is, where material 
coverine is referred to, a very marked difference. Wherever the 
mysticsu sense is intended, the word 'head' is expressed ; where 
there is a tranation to material covering, that transition is marked 
by the omission of the mystical word. 

Ver. 5.— I have tramlated this verse, every woman praying for 
or prophesying to her head uncovered, or with her head uncovered, 
nsferring the word KsfatXri to her social head ; and for this the fol* 
lowinff reasons may be adduced. If the Apostle had referred to a 
material covering, and had intended to say, ' Every woman pray- 
ing with lier natural head uncovered,' there are, I think, other 
expressions, leas ambiguous, free from a harshness, which seems to 
attach to tiiese words, understood in this sense, and such as he has 
used in other verses ; £E>r instance, simply uncovered, as in the 
tliirteenth verse, dKaTatnakwros ; or if xatra xtpaXns exonr, signifies 
having a covering oa Ins head ; would it not have been much more 
natuaral and appropriate to have apj^iied to the woman the same 
term, and to have spoken of her as fjui nari xsfaXis exowra? The 
difference in both tnese expressions from one anoth^, and from 
that wlneh is subsequently used, seems clearly to incHcate a dif- 
ference of meaning, which the other interpretation completely 
sacrifices, but which is preserved by that here proposed. 

Ver. 10. — ^That thna verse is parenthetical, and does not form a 
link in the Apostle's chain of reaaofdng, or at any rate a direet 
one, will, I think, appear evident to any ooe who observes the 
closeness of comiection between what follows and what precedes^ 
this verse ; and .thai the ^ aeverihdess,' which begins the eleventh 
verse cannot, with any shadow of plausibility, be made to eomskect 
the remainder of that verse with the tenth, but ia plainly the istro- 
ductiou of a qualification of what he bad said in the ^ghth and 
nindt, to preveut those whom he addressed from foraiiig any 
erroneous^ conclusions with req)ect to the position of the woman, 
and from falling from the extreme of allowing her to usurp an 
undue authority to that of looking upon her as a servile dependant. 
To correct any such false impressions as mi^thave been grounded 
on his saying that the woman was of the man, and created for the 
man, he adds, ^ nevertheless neither is the man without the woman 
nor the woman without the man in Chri^' Althoush therefore 
the words of the tenth verse, which intervene^ are weU suited to- 

H 2 introduce 



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100 On Women praying with Uncovered Heads : [July, 

introduce the caution, contained in the eleventh, against an abuse 
or misconstruction of what he had stated in the eighth and ninth, 
by adducing an instance in which the woman had equal power or 
authority with the man, yet they are to a certain extent digressive, 
and are so evidently parallel with what St Paul had before ad- 
vanced in the fourth and fifth verses of the seventh chapter of this 
Epistle, in which he says : * The wife hath not power of her own 
body, but the husband ; and likewise also the husband hath not 
power of his own body, but the wife,' referring to the same subject 
and adducing the same reasons, and only differing in this respect, 
that in one Satan is spoken of and in the other his angels or 
earthly servants, for the word ^ messenger ' may be applied to 
either, that nothing can, I think, account for its being overlooked 
but the preconception that the Apostle's argument was directed to 
the head-dress, and the consequent necessity of making these words 
harmonize, nolentia vohntia^ with this conjecture. The rendering 
sipvtrix power, that is to say, a veil or token of subjection, seems as 
ill-grounded as the derivation of Itums a non lucendo, and is itself 
an ar^ment against that view which requires so singular an inter- 
pretation, aud in favour of that which is exempt from any violence 
to the language, assigns to it a meaning consistent with other pas- 
sages of scriptures in sense, and with one in the same Epistle, 
almost in express phraseology, and which also gives it an appro- 
priate connection and significancy, not to say a mere consistency 
with the whole passage, of which the other interpretation is destitute. 

Although many reasons have been advanced to attach some 
force to the declaration, that the woman should have power on her 
head because of the angels, yet the most that can be said in their 
favour is, that they are ingenious but not satisfactory ; that they 
have had more or less influence in leading to the toleration of an 
obscurity superinduced over the passage, but have done nothing 
towards removing it. 

The interpretation here proposed does not, I think, seem to be 
attended widi any of the contradictions connected with the sup- 

fosition that the Apostle had in view the apparel of the Corinthians, 
t does not render it necessary to conclude, according to Scott, in. 
opposition to several express prohibitions in scripture, tliat women 
were allowed to speak in the churches, or with Whitby, that he 
gives directions how that should be done which he intended should 
not be done at all, or that he rebuked the mere semblance of in- 
subordination in the first place, and more at length than he did its 
exhibition in action ; that he censured the woman for the absence 
of an artificial covering, while his own words clearly prove that she 
retained the covering provided by nature, and which was therefore 
the most emphatically significant of her proper position and rela- 
tion, 



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1849.] A New Interpretation of 1 Cor. xi. 10. 101 

tion, or to imagine that the Corinthian Christians, possessing 
Gospel light, had erred in a point in which their heathen brethren, 
possessing only the light of nature, had acted correctly. It frees 
St. Paul from the imputation of using a phraseology, not only 
ambiguous but defective. It does not without authority introduce 
a sense not indicated by^the Apostle, and then arbitrarily interpret, 
now in one sense and then in another, the word which he employs ; 
but is consistent throughout, supposes the Apostle to be con- 
demning a practice of far greater importance than the arrange- 
ment of a head-dress, and one which, beine deeply inconsistent 
with the social relation of the members of that body of which 
Christ is the head, deserved his serious and earnest reprobation, 
and with the evil consequences of which he was so strongly im- 
pressed that, having onos referred to it in the present passage, the 
magnitude of the abuse had, while the subject was under his con- 
sideration, and while he was writings developed itself to his mind 
in all its extent, and led him to recur to it again in a subsequent 
part of his Epistle, xiv. 34, and to follow up his reasoning against 
it in the present chapter, and his declaration of its impropriety 
and opposition to the will of God, as illustrated by even the con- 
stitution and law of nature, by the authoritative prohibition, ' Let 
your women keep silence in the churches,' — a train of thought 
and of language consistent not only with the wisdom and candour 
of an inspired Apostle, but with the natural feelings of every person 
who has written under similar circumstances. 



ON THE CHARACTER OF 

EUSTATHIUS, ARCHBISHOP OF THESSALONICA, 

CONSIDERED AS A REFORMER. 
By Dr, Aug. Neander. 

(Read before the Academy of Sciences at Berhn, Aug, 12, 1841.) 
Translated by J. £. RyLakd. 

The national ravival of the Greeks has an aspect so important on 
the future, tbdt it imparts a fresh interest to our researches con- 
cerning their earlier history, and the labours of those distinguished 
men who appeared among them in the middle ages. Amidst the 
prevailing darkness of that period, some bright spots, here and 
there, irresistibly attract our notice. 

Among these individuals must be ranked the noted compiler of 

the 



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102 Oa the Character of Eustathius, [July, 

tha Commentary on Homer — ^Eustalihiiifl, ArdibidK>p of Tbeissa- 
lonica^ a man eminent not only for his learning, but for his noble 
character, animated by a wise and temperate zeal for reform, 
such as the regeneration of the modem Greeks seems to demand. 
His smaller treatises, published for the first time in 1832 by Pro- 
fessor Tafel of Tabingen, firom manuscripts in the libraries of 
Basle, Paris, and Venice, enable us to form more accurate con- 
ceptions of his character, and of his position in relation to his con- 
tempcuraries. They contain much information respecting the 
religious and moral state — the ethical history — of the Greeks in 
the twelfth century. On these points I beg leave to state son:ie 
particulars. I would gladly have attempted a connected memoir 
of this eminent man, had the sources of information been sufficient 
for the purpose. Several valuable contsibutions to this object, 
documents of that period, are about to be given to the public by 
Professor Tafel in an Appendix to his first collection ; but they 
have not yet appeared. The writings of the Archbishop hitherto 

ftublished contained only scattered allusions to the events of his 
ife, and many things in them require elucidation from other 
quarters. Of the two Bvzantine historians of that age, Joannes 
Cinnamus and Nicetafi of Cbonae, only the latter mentions Eusta* 
tbius ; this he does in two instances with high commendation of 
bis acquirements and general character. 

Eustathius, it is well known, flourished in the a^e of Comnenus, 
a period in which literary studies were pursued with great ardour. 
From the account of Bishop Anselm of Havelberg, who was sent 
to Constantinople as ambassador from the Emperor Lotharius II., 
it appears that an academy composed of twelve of the most emi- 
nent scholars, one of whom acted as president, was at that time 
in the Byzantine empire the ultimate authority in every depart- 
ment of learning ; but this literary tribunal, if its decisions on 
all disputed questions admitted, as Anselm represents, of no 
appeal, must have exerted a verv depressing influence on mental 
development. Though the Greeks at that time far surpassed the 
other nations of Europe in erudition, yet they were deficient in 
that vital creative power which enabled the latter to produce much 
greater results from less abundant materials. We find among 
the learned Greeks no such original and astonishing master-pieces 
of intellect as those produced by the aouteness and profundily of 
the schoolmen. Even the writings of Eustathius are marked by 
the defective discipline in which he had been brought up; in 
common yith the productions of the later Greeks they want a 
healthy rimplieity and a fresh originality ; their turgid and arti- 
ficial style and the accumulation of phrases from the ancient 
Greeks excite a feeling of disgust and occasion much obscurity. 

On 



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■m 



1849.] Archbishop of Tbeualanica. 103 

On two ocoaaons Eustathius took a part in the public transac- 
tions of his times, which accounts for his being noticed by the his- 
torian Nicetas. The first was under the Emperor Manuel Com- 
nenus, whom he has celebrated in a funeral oration. Although 
this prince belonged to the better class of the Greek emperorsy 
yet, in common with his predecessors, he was infected witn that 
evil propensity, which made their agency so often iniurious both 
to Church and State— ^he propensity to lord over the religious 
convictions of their subjects, and to decide on subjects on which they 
were unable to form an independent, well-grounded judgment On 
this point Nioetas justly ofaeenres (Ub. yii.) : ^ Most of the Roman 
emperors were not satisfied merely with reigning; they looked 
upon it as great injustice if they were not entrusted with the 
irreversible decision of iliyine and human things. They wished 
to introduce new doctrines — to judge and issue mandates upon 
them ; and often punished those who did not agree with them.' 
In a more Byzantine spirit Johannes Cinnamus thou^it, that 
no one should be allowed to speculate freely respecting the 
nature of God, except the public teachers of religion, the most 
distinguished of the priests^ and perhaps the civil rulers in virtue 
of their office. 

There was at that time a form of abjuration in use for converts 
from Mohammedanism to Christianity, which was sufficiently ab- 
surd — an anathema on Mohammed with several additions. The 
emperor might indeed have good reason far wishing the adoption 
of a more intelligent mode of expression ; but he attached an ex- 
cessive importance to tiie matter ; he pronounced this formula 
(explaining it in a way no one else had ever thought of) to be 
blasphemy. He put forth an edict against it, and would make 
his dictum overrule religious conviction. He thought it would 
have been ungrateful to God who had invested him with the su- 
preme power, to allow the utterance of the anatliema. Bishop 
Eustatmus could not be silent en an oooation when his official 
position rendered it imperative to speak. He could not approve 
of the Imperial edict, but expressed himself freely upon it before 
a synod. The Byzantine emperor, not accustomed to such con- 
tradiction, was gready incensed ; he longed to bring Eustathius 
to trial, and it cost the patriarch of Constantinople much trouble 
to appease him. Of this emperor Eustathius says in his account 
of the capture of Thessalcmica, § 14 (wbidi contains many parti- 
culars relative to the poKticai evenits of the a^e), that at his decease 
all the jH^>8perit^ of the Konau empire vamshed, as at sunset all 
nature is covered with darkness. After his death in 1180, Alexius 
II., an infant, succeeded to the throne. At the head of the go- 
vernment stood the widowed empress, or rather^ her paramour, 

the 



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104 On the Character of EustathiuSj [July 

the Protosebastus Alexius Comneniis. The general dissatisfaction 
excited by the malpractices of this absolutely vicious administra- 
tion enabled a member of the Imperial family, himself infamous 
for his vices, Andronicus, to seize upon the government. The 
young prince who should have shared it with him, was put to 
death. Many malcontents of distinction, both Greeks and Latins, 
assembled in Sicily, and by their influence the enterprise of King 
William II. against the Greek empire was undertaken. This 
brought severe misfortunes on the city of which Eustathius was 
bishop ; he shared in those sufferings, and describes them in the 
narrative mentioned above. The governor of the city was Prince 
David Comnenius, who, though dissatisfied with the existing state 
of things, was filled with dread of the tjrrant Andronicus ; he nei- 
ther seriously intended to defend the city, nor had courage or 
ability for it. Eustathius has described the conduct of this man 
with some degree of tartness. When he saw the catastrophe ap- 
proaching, he implored the governor, as he tells us, but in vain, to 
take measures for the rescue of the unfortunate city. His own 
words are — ' The enemy pressed us — / pressed him^ arguing, re- 
proaching, pointing out his faults, telling him, but to no purpose, 
what he might have heard from others, had they spoken freely, 
and if the sad fortunes of the city had not closed their lips/ 
Eustathius before the commencement of the siege might have 
secured his own safety, but he considered it his duty not to desert 
his charge under the impending calamities, and to use his utmost 
efforts for their relief. Thessalonica was given up to bloodshed 
and plunder. Fanaticism exasperated the fury of the soldiers, 
who were accustomed to regard the Greeks as heretics. The 
havoc was immense, but in scenes of death and pillage the vene- 
rable Eustathius appeared as a guardian angel for the unfortu- 
nate. His virtues and learning had won for him a reputation 
which commanded the respect of the Sicilian army, and his im- 
posing personal appearance gave additional weight to his repre- 
sentations and pleadings. By his consolations and exhortations he 
strove to produce a salutary effect on the sufferers, and amidst all 
the tumult of military operations continued to hold divine service. 
Owing, however, to the fanaticism of the Latins who detested the 
Greek liturgy, this was interrupted, and Eustathius was obliged 
to apply \o the commander of the Sicilian troops, who promised 
that in future nothing of the kind should happen. In a discourse 
preparatory to the Fast, he expresses his abhorrence of flattery, 
and shows how he obtained his end without having recourse to any 
such means (p. 84, § 35) : * Even in that woeful period of impri- 
sonment, flattery was revolting to me, and therefore God helped 
me ; for I spoke the truth as it ought to be spoken. And if at 

times 



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1849.] Archbishop of 17tesMlonica. 105 

times I roused the wrath of those chieftains against me, yet by the 
dew from above the fire was soon quenched.' 

After the siese of Thessalonica, under the new ruler, Isaac 
Angelus, Eustatnius read as an invitation to the fast an account 
of we calamities they had undergone before a public assembly, 
and made use of it as an exhortation to a reformation of manners. 
^ Let not the spirit of self-love deceive any one,' "he said, * as if 
such calamities had not justly befallen us.' He reproved, on this 
occasion, the prevailing dissoluteness of manners, especially the 
envy, slander, and deep-rooted habit of falsehood ^ for which the 
God of Truth has turned away his face from us,' — the want of 
genuine friendship, — ^the ingratitude, — ^the hardness of heart which 
would not excuse a small wrong. When at a later period his 
fellow-citizens w^e again in unfortunate drcumstanoes, he en- 
deavoured to animate their hopes by reminding them of their 
deliverance from their former tribulation, and exhorted them to 
trust in the God of freedom who was still the same ; who at that 
time when no signs of deliverance appeared, ere three months had 
elapsed, granted them complete dehverance from their troubles, 
(p. 75.) 

It could not fail to happen, that Eustathius by his boldness as 
a strict censor of morals, would draw on himself the disfavour of 
many persons in the higher ranks. His language intimates that 
libels were written upon him and spread as far as Constantinople. 
He speaks of plots formed against him by his enemies, from wnich 
he was delivered, though we know not their precise kmd (p. 104). 
To repel the imputations cast upon him, he was induced to prepare 
a vindication. Its tone is rather sarcastic. We learn frt}m it the 
cause of the obloquy that he endured. He was blamed for not 
paying due resard to the distinction of ranks — for behaving 
towards the higher classes just as he did to the lower. A man of 
simple manners, who hated compliments and flattery, who was 
careful to maintain his devotedness to the cause of religion, might 
easily lay himself open to such an imputation, especially under the 
existmg relations of Byzantine society. He justified himself 
partly by alluding to the reverses of fortune in those times ; he 
who stood to-day in great honour, might be to-morrow an object 
of contempt ;. a rich man to-day might very shortly become a 
beggar. Further, it was objected to him that he took no pleasure 
in the acts of homage and signs of devotion, as they were then 
practised in an extravagant manner — the genufiections and bands 
of followers by which men of rank were dbtinguished. * Have I 
been so long with you,' said he to his fellow-citizens, ^ and yet 
you do not know me I Have you forgotten what I have said 
against that ambition which takes a vain delight in parading with 

a numerous 



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106 On the Character ofEudatkius, [July, 

a numerous retinue ? Let a man think of that lad way on which 
eyen he will be borne on his Uer who while living is surrounded 
by attendants ; he will then be insensible of the honoar shown to 
his remains, or perhaps will be the object of ridicule to many ' 
(p. 118, § 54). Against the extravagant devotion of the Byzan-^ 
tines he says — * If you pay your vows to God and his saints, th^i 
you may prost^ate yourselves entirely on the cround ; but suffer 
us to be men and to be honoured simply as su^/ 

Further, Eustathius found preat cause for complaint in reference 
to the disruption of the marriage bond. He describes the vexa* 
tions with which he had been harassed for more than six years on 
this head (p. 64, § 13). Not a day passed without his being pes- 
tered with applications firom men and women ; and notwithstand*- 
ing the reverence they paid to the Archbishop of Thessalonica, he 
was subject to many insults if he punished omnders and reminded 
persons of their obligations* He lamented that spiritual means 
were not su€Bcient, and that it was needful to call in the aid of the 
secular power. He mourned over the levity shown in dissolving 
the marriage union ; — the ease with whidi uie laws of the church 
were thus set aside ; — ^the manner in which ignorant priests de* 
ceiyed themselves, and were made tools of for such purposes ; — 
and that fresh betrothments immediately followed divorces. Thus 
much may be gathered from his words (p. 65), that he had to do 
with a class of persons who in order to disguise their light-mind- 
edness were in the habit of using highnsoimding phrases : ^ God, 
the all-sufficient,' said they, ' stands in no need oi clergymen and 
church canons.' * He endured much in attempting to chedc them 
in their evil courses. Those who were galled by nis zeal for strict 
morals would gladly have got rid of him. 

Yet Eustathius cannot be classed with men of a thorough re- 
forming spirit, of which, indeed; the age in which he lived was 
hardly susceptible. He was not free from the infection of its 
dominant spirit, but was enthralled by the religious opinions then 
in vogue, as we may perceive from the tone of his thinking on 
monkery, fasting, and similar subjects. But so strongly was he 
animated by the spirit of Christian piety, that it spiritualized and 
transformed all that he had imbibed from the prevalent maxims of 
the age, and without demolishing what was established, he sought 
to influence and thus to improve everything ; on all occasions he 
urged love as the essence of the genuine Christian disposition. In 
a discourse preparatory to a fast, he laid down as the first requisite 
a love not resting on uie surface but deeply rooted in the heart. 
^ Let us only make this our own,' said he, *• and the whole train 
of virtues will follow. Whoever utters the word hve^ has in doing 
so named all goodness. If love be excluded from the soul, it is 

destitute 



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1849.] ArckbisAop of Thessahmica. 107 

destitaie of eyerything good. The state, the school, science, and 
all human intercourse subsist b^ means of it.' He finds the image 
of love in all nature. *• Even m plants an image of lore is pre- 
sented ; this is known by those naturalists who tell us of the nude 
and female in palm-trees ; and he who.has infused into all creatures 
the loye of existence, has thereby given a revelation of love.' In 
another fast sermon he says (p. 86) that for right fasting, a spare 
diet and strict abstinence are not enough, which to most would be 
no hard matter. Sympathy shown to the needy according to our 
ability is especially required. The merciful €rod regards not only 
the much ; he notices the Uttk if given in proportion to the ability ; 
even the least has its worth if pven with ioyfulness and confidence ; 
and love is the salt which savours everything. ^ If this be wanting, 
in vain shall we weary ourselves with praying and fSsisting, — with 
genuflections, vigils, and tears ; — for to God who is love itseli^ 
nothing is acceptable from those who despise love.' 

Eustadiius has written a special treatise against an evil that was 
most hateful to him — hypocrisy--^ vice with which in various 
ways the Greek life was contaminated. He begins with noticing 
an uieoKpKrit^ which serves the cause of goodness, understanding by 
it, conformably to the meaning which the Greek word admits of, 
the representation of a character on the stage, or the dramatic art. 
In reference to Tragedy, he appears as its advocate and eulogist ; 
* By such an art,' he says, ' could the men of former times, as the 
living can now, learn the manifold changes of fortune, the great 
diversities of character and the events of life. A living historical 
image of all the virtues and of all the vices was thus brought 
before the ancients, that they might strive after the one and avoid 
the other. The dramatist was a teacher of all the virtues, inas- 
much as he brought the images of the bad upon the theatre not 
that men might form their lives on such a, model, but might learn 
to shun them. He acted a feigned part, yet as a teacher he 
represented the truth.' He next mentions Satire and Comedy, of 
which he forms a lower estimate, and then makes a transition to 
the dwoKpiois^ so called in the worst sense, which had now spread 
through society. Expressing his detestation of it, he says, ' 1 hold 
it better to appear as a drunkard than to pretend to fast ; I know 
not whether any one can so detest hypocrisy as I do.' He then 
adduces many examples from actual life, of nypocrisy, di^imula- 
tion, and deceit in various stations and callings, and m conclusion 
exposes with bitter satire the assumed sanctity of the monks 
(p. 94, § 27). ' Such persons,' he sars, ^ are an untruth from 
head to foot. They deprive the gift oi speech of all naturalness ; 
they falsify it. For the most part they are silent, but if they are 
pleased to speak they lisp in an undertone, so that one can hardly 

tell 



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108 On the Character of Etutat/uuSj [ July^ 

tell whether they are speaking. They make a show as if by the 
seyeritieB practised on themselves they had lost the power of utter- 
ance. What profit can be gained from the discourse of such 
persons those know best who have heard it ; but I have no wish to 
DO one of them. By such practices the ignorant man conceals his 
ignorance, for these people are altogether imcultivated ; they 
would fain be silent, or say little, that they may not reveal their 
poverty, for monks who are really wise, men of uterature, men of 
yirtue, inducted into all good culture, exercise their voice and 
^ve dignity to language ; vnth their thoughtful discourses they 
make glad the cities of God ; with their whole appearance in har- 
mony with nature they represent the truth of creation, as they 
strive by their actions to attain the im^ge of God.' 

Eustathius, it must be admitted, was not free from the error 
which arose from that obscuration of the Christian faith which pre- 
vailed among his contemporaries in both Churches, and was not 
dispelled tin the Reformation. In the contemplative life of 
monkery there was to his apprehenaon a higher stage of Christian 
perfection than in common domestic life or in civic society, since 
he did not perceive that it could give nothing higher than a repre- 
sentation of the supreme good in the grade of humanity, which 
Christianity aims at effecting by a realization of the kingdom of 
God. The distinction between a divine and human virtue belong- 
ing to the stand-point of antiquity, but taken away by Christianity, 
had mingled with his views. He misunderstood so far the nature 
of Christ's gentle yoke as if he had intended an easier rule of 
life for ordinary men, in contrast to the heavy self-imposed yoke 
of the monks. Yet in the case of Eustathius this error assumed 
a milder form, the native soundness of his mind. He sets him- 
self in opposition to the false notion that a life of constant piety 
was incompatible with, the common relations of life. He ex- 
pressly combats this error in one of his fast sermons (p. 10), 
and exhorts every one in his own station to exercise himself in 
goodness; the true genuflection is internal humility: let each 
man measure everything external according to his own powers ; 
bodily prostration is only a symbol of humility. 'Instead of 
many genuflections, only be skilled in the practice of manifold 
virtues ; in God's sight this will not be of less value than genu- 
flections, for to proceed in a way well-pleasing to God is more in 
harmony with nature, and more suited for active life than bowing 
the knee.' 

Eustathius composed many treatises, which were much valued 
by his contemporaries, on the Reformation of the Monastic System ; 
in these, as in all his writings, he sought by the infusion of a right 
spirit and disposition to imjurove the existing order of things, and 

to 



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1849.] Archbishop of Thessalonica, 109 

to render the monastic system more cjonducive to moral and 
literary culture. To this class belongs an epistle addressed to a 
noted * pillar-saint ' (or follower of Symeon Stylites) of Thessa- 
lonica. After some general commendation of his ascetic strictness, 
he tells him that the iron he wore might be equally injurious or 
salutary to him. The iron in itself was neither salutary nor 
hurtful, but was one or the other according to the diq)06ition of 
the wearer. The main point was to draw nigh to God with a 
sincere humble mind. He warned him against sham holiness 
and pride (§ 38). He should be on his guard against condemn- 
ing others ; he should avoid haughty feelings and language, and 
wear the cross not merely on the surface but in his inmost soul. 
He ought to labour for the profit of others. ^ Such an ascetic 
would be a public benefit. People of both sexes, learned and 
unlearned, high and low^ assemble in this place. Towards these 
the pillar-saint must act in a right manner, or, in one word, 
apostolically ; for he is to be all mines to all men that he may 
gain all for the glory of God. He will not flatter, lest he should 
injure the cause of truth, nor will he be rude towards any one, 
that he may not be accused of an unbecoming freedom of speech. 
Nor will he indulge in indiscriminate praises, as is the practice 
of flatterers ; nor will he pour down reproaches from his elevation, 
for that would be brutish. If many gifts are presented to him 
by devout persons, he will be far from hoarding them up, or from 
building a beautiful dwelling for himself with their produce ; he 
will consider himself only as a channel by which such gifts may 
be communicated to the indigent who stand in need of them.* 
On the same principles he composed a treatise addressed to the 
monks on the improvement of the monastic orders. He attacks 
very sharply the deceptions practised by the monks, their making 
use of accounts of miracles and pretended visions to aggrandize 
themselves, to acquire wealth, and to carry on traffic and mer- 
chandise more profitably. • 

He praised the arrangements of the Emperor Manuel Com- 
nenus, who committed to the secular magistrates the management 
of the monastic revenues, in order that the monks might not be 
seduced to busy themselves with things foreign to their profession. 
Thus Nicetas Choniates, who utters the same complaints as 
Eustathius, also informs us that this Emperor endowed a monastery 
founded by him with no estates, fields, or vineyards, but only 
assigned it a fixed income from the imperial treasury (1. vii., p. 270). 
He reproaches them in strong terms for their hatred of literature 
(jxi(ToXo7ov TO ToioDrov <pv\oy). * If a man of literary attainments 
come to them, to retire as into a haven from the storms of the 
world, they all look shy upon him ; such a sort of person, they 

say,. 



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110 On the Cinaracter of Eudaihius, [July, 

say, is of no use to tbem, they want no grammarian ; they throw 
open their doors to ignorance and welcome it as a fit companion 
to their sanctity, whue they hanish hr away the welMnstructed 
scribes of the bngdom of heayen.' — He was desirous that monas- 
teries should be the seats of mental culture and the means of 
perpetuating it, and lamented on the contrast between this their 
prqper destination and their actual state. ' Those people from 
the workshops or belonging to the peasantry, who have turned 
monks for the sake of a livelihood, are totally ignorant of that 
divine wisdom by which man is brou^t into connection with God 
and learns to philos<^ize on divine and human things.' — We 
may learn from liis lamentations how it came to pass that so many 
treasures of ancient literature have been lost. He pointedly 
reproves them for their disposing of books (§ 128, p. 245). * You 
act like the Jews ; you cannot mdeed set Christ for sa1e» but you 
part with his works to any one who will purchase them, and that 
not for a fair price but for anything that is offered. Thou witless 
man \ Why wilt thou make the shelves of the convent library as 
empty as thy own soul ? and because thou art destitute of all 
knowledge^ wilt thou dear away all the repositories of books ? 
Let them retain their treasures ; some wise man or friend of lite- 
rature may come when thou art gone.' He admonishes them to 
study, that they may be able to write or say something valuable 
(§ 144). He adduces an instance from his own experience. He 
had heard of a noted book that a copy of it was peserved in the 
library of a convent. He en<][uJred after it,^ but it was not to be 
found : he pressed the superior to pve him the reason why it 
could not be found, who at last admitted that it had been s^, 
* for,' added he, ' oS what use could it be to us ? ' * You pride 
yourself,' said Eustathms to the monk, ^ on knowing only these 
things, — the prayers in the church, the cell, and ^e refectory. 
Know you not that for a genuine monk tins will not suffice for the 

rjrfection of virtue, but that he certainly requires knowledge ? 
mean not only the divinest knowledge, but history and various 
sciences by which he may be useful to those with whom he baa 
intercourse,' He speaks of the rage of the monks against every 
one who would not acknowledge them to be mm, workers of 
miracles, and saints. He must have suffered much ia his owa 
person from their attacks. If throng the protection of Grod and 
the Emperor they have not accomplished their designs^ yet they 
have done what they could. Such pec^le will not be sa^sfied tiJl 
they have deprived their enemies of life. He theus adverts to that 
universal malady of the Grecian character, ^ the vindence^ of 
party spirit which has brought all our affitirs to ruin ' (§ 167,. 
p. 255). 

Among 



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1 849.] Archbi^h&p of TJiesmlonica. Ill 

Among the memorable £bm^ which may be learnt from the 
writings of £u8tathiu% we would mention, that among the Greeks 
there were at that time indtitntions for the deaf and dumb. He 
speaks of deaf and dumb persons as being apprenticed to various 
trades (p. 79, § 17), * Some teach and others learn,' he says, 
'not by words, but by actions, which may be called unspoken 
words or living thoughts.' 



IS BIBLICAL CRITICISM UNFAVOURABLE TO Pl£TYf> 
By the Rev, Henrt Burobss. 



' We wish some meani ooold be devised fyt malriTig smeh researehes 89 profit- 
able, spiritually* as they are interesting to the iiiteUecC--«/oimia/ rf Suind 
Literature, No. IV. p. 368, 

Thb professed admirers of Christianity are divided into two 
classQB» of which the eharacteristies are so distinct, that with the 
exception of having the same object of contemplation or study, 
they have but few points of resemblance in common. Let us 
select a few individuals of each dass who shall be types of the 
genua, and endeavour to analyse their modes of thought and 
feeling. In the perfotnnance ox this task we shall endeavour to 
avoid extremes, and sliall draw as Uttle as possible from the stores 
of imagination and fancy. Our object will be to answer the im- 
portant question at the Wd of this article, and to show that the 
study of the divine oracles to the fuU^t extent of critical investi- 
gatiw must be in accordance with God's moral government, and 
consequently pleasing to Him, and favourable to an enlightened 
piely. If devout feelings and holy conduct are in any case not 
tjie result of such pmrsuits, other causes than bibli(aed studies 
tbemaelvea mu^i account for the fiolure. 

To multitudes of CbristJAn laen, the region contained within 
ibe bowds of their fiutb, appears like a IsjEid of enchantment, amid 
the wonders of winch they wander day by day, delighted with the 
sight of the eye and the nearing oi the ear, but examining nothing 
and doubting xK>thiQg- As impressions from without they received 
Hnm re%ious conyictions, passimfy^ as wax gives way to the 
pressure of the seal ; and being thus intellectually cast into a cer- 
tain mould, their characters undergo but little change. Through 
the vista of the present,, they catch a ^impse of the past eighteen 

centuries, 



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112 Is Biblical Criticism unfavourable to Piety ^ [July, 

centuries, whose events have in their minds the fixedness as well 
as the reality of a gallery of paintings, various indeed in their 
antiquity and brilliancy of colouring, but definite in their contour, 
and immutable in their sequence and historical character. To 
them, Christ and his Apostles are great men, poor indeed, yet 
clothed with a dignity like that of pontiffs or high priests. Primi- 
tive Christianity has its bishops with sacred robes, and a lofty 
ceremonial corresponding with that of succeeding ages, though a 
little less magnificent, fis calendared martyrs from St. Peter and 
St. Paul to the almost unknown St. Agatha and St. Chad, are all 
undoubted enlightened confessors^ never erroneous in their prin- 
ciples, nor fanatical in their search after a public and cruel death. 
So far from distance of time being connected with the necessity 
for a searching criticism, it only ' lends enchantment to the view ;* 
an atmosphere of brightness covers all the remote scenery, and a 
halo surrounds the head of every saint, more refulgent as the 
period of his earthly existence recedes from the present. Chris- 
tianity is of God ; not as the wheat among the chaff, or a little 
leaven hid in three measures of meal, but in its whole circumfe- 
rence of profession. In apostolic times — ^in the dark ages — and 
now — (heretics and the heterodox of course excepted) a oneness 
pervades this great community ; it has clear marks of divinity 
which are never interrogated, never doubted. 

With what great ease minds of this character throw themselves 
on the soft cushions of dijides recepta when surveying the present 
aspects of their holy religion, or performing their customary devo- 
tions 1 To them the sculptured cathedral is more than an object 
of taste, reflecting the zeal of a by-gone age ; — it is divine. The 
pealing organ and the chorus of sweet voices chanting the Psalms 
of David or the Nicene Creed, are not things of expediency, 
man-invented, and unessential ; they are linked in the fancy with 
the choirs of cherubim, and the harpers harping with their harps 
in the visions of John. Innovation must be rejected because it is 
new ; antiquity must be loved because it is old. * The faith of 
our fathers' is a sentence of more than talismanic power; it holds 
scepticism at defiance, and preserves him who knows how to use it 
from the misty and cold regions of mental perplexity. Thus sub- 
missive to external influences, persons of this idiosyncrasy drink in 
the dew of heavenlike Gideon's fleece when others remain parched 
and dry. Ancient creeds, authorized interpretations, current 
opinions respecting God and the soul and an immortal existence, 
are to them like the soothing sound of sweet instruments to those 
who sail on a summer's eve on the clear bosom of a mighty 
river. 

If the past history and present customs of the visible church 

offer 



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1849.] Is Biblical Criticism unfavourable to Piety 1 113 

offer no diiBculties to the class of Christians we are now describe 
ing, it is equally true that the Bible is contemplated with the 
same easy, complacent, and imtroubled spirit. The Book is of 
God without question, in all its sections, in all its words. Moses, 
holding in his hands the tables of stone engraven with the finger 
of God, could not feel more convinced of the divinity of the writing, 
than these men are of the heaven-bom character of the collection 
bound together as the Old and New Testaments, prefaced with 
the dedication to King James, and subscribed, in many copies, 
with a list of the degrees of consanguinity within which a man 
may not marry. How this collection originated, on what authority 
its inspiration re^, what injury it has suftered by the teeth of 
time, tliat eater of all other things, — they do not enauire : there 
the book is, and seeing with them is believing. ' What man is 
there,' said the town-dlerk of Ephesus, ' that knoweth not how 
that the city of the Ephesians is a worshipper of the image which 
fell down from Jupiter ? which thing cannot be spoken against.' 
The very order or the collocation of the books, which is probably 
accidental, except where a natural sequence is pointed out, has the 
impress, they say, of the finger of Divine Providence, llie Bible 
begins with the beginning oi all things, and ends with Apocalyptic 
visions of future ages when this world shall have passed away. It 
even utters a commination against those who would alter in the 
least its present arrangement : * If any man shall take away from 
the words of the book of thisprophecy, God shall take away his 
part out of the book of life.' This threat, contained in one isolated 
portion of Holy Writ, and that the most obscure, is construed by 
them as referring to the whole canon of Scripture, and woe there- 
fore be to the man who shall temerariously begin to examine the 
authenticity or to doubt th^ entire integrity of tnat which God has 
so plainly Joined together as one I What would such blind ad- 
mirers do if acquainted with the fact which lies patent on the page 
of history, that in the primitive ages the Apocalypse was omy 
partially received as an inspired production, and that its place at 
the end of the Bible in our copies is not so occupied in some of 
the best manuscripts and versions ? The views which are thus 
taken of the book when closed, and surveyed as a whole, charac- 
terize the devout exercises of these happy believers when they 
open its pages. Each text is a separate pearl which may be taken 
to adorn the spirit of any man in any age, or a piece of manna as 
palatable and nourishing now as when it first fell from the skies. 
A mighty quiver fiill of arrows against spiritual evils, it matters 
not which weapon is taken. A text in Chronicles appertaining to 
Joab or Abishai, contains holy mysteries as well as the precious 
sayings of Christ in the Gospels. Happy men I if an unwavering 
VOL. IV. — NO. VII. I faith 



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114 /* Biblical CrUicifm urtfavimrable to Piety? [July, 

faith built on custom, and a freedom from doubt arising from 
never examining, can constitute bliss I 

Is this a correct desmption of a class, or is it a caricature and 
an exaggeration ? That all the features of the picture are found 
in any one individual we will not aflBrm, but we know they may be 
recognized in the genus. We say nothing respecting the objective 
truth or falseness of their opinions ; we merely affirm that they 
are subjectively impressed upon them by education and custom, 
pot elaborated and deduced by a process of reasoning. Let U3 
turn to another class placed almost at the antipodes of this exten- 
sive one. 

Before opr Lord entered pn his public ministry, he was led by 
the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil, and eacn 
wile of the arch-enemy contained a doubt to be solved^ or a trudi 
to be confirmed. Thus, in every age, multitudes of his followers 
have had to conflict with the same foe, not for forty days only, but 
in some cases for as many years, and probably often through the 
whole course of a religious life. Childhood and youth have been 
spent in their case in the way in which those seasons ordinarily 
pass, amidst habitual levity and occasional and passing religious 
convictions. At length the attention is fixed, and the maturity 
of manhood brin^ with it the solemn pecessity of finding out whai; 
is thp truth. Different countries, says the enquirer, have different 
religions ; the Hindoos reverence the Shastres, the Mohammedans 
the Koran, and Christians the Bible. That my received source 
of religious septiments is more worthy than those of other nations 
I am taught to believe and am willing to admit, but in a matter 
of such vital iqtarest I must be solidly convinced. A Brahmin 
firmly believes in error because be has been brought up in it ; 
majr I not be in danger of doing the same ? As an immortal and 
rational being, I must judge for myself. 

If our enquirer is a private Christian engaged in the business 
of life, and having therefore but little time tor theological study, 
he does all that can be demanded of lum, and all that is necessary 
for his peace, when he confides in the judgment of the excellent 
men who, he has reason to believe, have given due attention to 
the grounds of the Christian faith, and have written books on ita 
evidences, A rational and well-grounded confidence may thus 
be obtained with comparative ease, sufficient to prevent the disciple 
from being on the one hand the blind adherent of a party, and on 
the other from coptmuing a child, * tossed to and fro, and carried 
about with every wind of doctrine.' Difficulties and doubts 
respecting doctrines and obscure texts, and matters of personal 
exi)erience, must be grappled with as they arise, and will yield 
easily in proportion as they are treated rationally. In this manner 

the 



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1849.] Is Biblical Critieitm uHfavourable to Piety? 115 

the zaan of business who is concerned for the well-being of his 
immortal soul, and submits patiently and conscientiously to dis- 
cipline, will become a scribe well instructed in the things of the 
kingdom. He will have learned before be is old, that some of 
the cheri3hed opinions of his youth were airy nothings, and that in 
the popular creed there are positions which no learning nor logic 
can sustain. But the same process which demolishes me unsound 
will consolidate that which is right and true. Whatever may 
perish in the fiery furnace of trial, that which is godlike will 
remain imscathed and become his comfort and delight ; and what 
should a wise man wish for more ? 

But the Christian whom we would now follow into the wilder- 
ness is one who is called to teach others, and who feels he can 
only perform his high duties conscientiously by being himself 
thoroughly satisfied of the truth of the substance of his instructions. 
He begins his work, as an ingenuous and right-minded young man 
always will, in a spirit of deference to those who have been his 
guides, and naturally attached to the doctrines and practices of 
Uiose among whom he has moved. His opinions are thus to him 
in a great measure traditionary, as he has hitherto had neither 
time nor disposition to investigate everything on original grounds. 
But the same qualities of spurit which disposed him to submit to 
guidance when under tutors and eovemors, will make him examine 
more closely for himself when, on nis own responsibility, he is called 
to preach the Gospel. Then the flowery paths of prescription 
and authority in things sacred must be exchanged for the sterile 
bj-ways of suspicion and doubt and examination. It is well f<^ 
him that only a part of what is before him becomes visible at once, 
or he might shrink dismayed from his troublous and proloi^ed 
task. Here we cannot but admire the arrangement of divine 
Providence by which no more is laid upon us than we are able to 
bear, — * precept must be upon precept, line upon line, here a little 
and there a little.' 

After having preached for a longer or shorter period, according 
to circumstances, the student finds it becomes more necessary 
for him to consult the ori^nal documents, that in all caaes he 
may present to his flock, to the best of his power, the true say- 
ings of God and not the traditions of men. He discovers, 
perhaps, to his great mortification, that a text on which he 
declaimed with great zeal and eloquence on the previous Sunday, 
has no existence in the form in which he used it in the original 
record ; that the translators whom he followed mistook its meaning 
and gave a wrong rendering, which he adopted on the faith of the 
Authorized Version being a correct one. A single instance of 
misplaced confidence thus being distinctly recognized, there is no 

I 2 peace 



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116 h Biblical Criticism unfavourable to Piety ? [July, 

peace for his conscience, and no personal pleasure in his minis- 
trations, until he is able in every case to verily for himself the 
sense of the passages of Scripture which he makes the themes of 
his discourses. To become a Hebrew and Greek biblical scholar 
to such an extent as to be independent of translations, is a long 
task, although lightened by many mental pleasures, even if the 
average amount of learning has been laid up at college. ^ It 
will demand much time. Desultory reading must be relin- 
quished, and real hard work must be performed. At this stage 
of his intellectual history our student will probably become con- 
scious of a secular influence exerted upon him by the mere 
labour of acquiring the languages of the Sacred Oracles, and 
may be tempted to think of relaxing his eflbrts, or falling back 
upon his former state of easy ignorance. That such a suggestion 
must be indignantly repelled we need not affirm. Let him con- 
tinue faithful to his devotional exercises and conscientious in his 
work, and he need fear nothing. A priest entering into the holy 
place and bowing before the cherubim amidst clouds of incense, 
may be expected to feel more holy pleasure and excitement than 
the man who made the curtains of the tabernacle, or smelted the 

g>ld to overlay the divine symbols, but in the performance of 
od's will both are equal. 

Arrived thus far up the hill, the aspirant after divine knowledge 
stops to take breath, and surveys the extent of his past labours. 
He is able to read the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures, not for the 
purpose of expounding a text merely, but devotionally and con- 
stajUly^ as he once read the Bible in his mother tongue in his 
daily and private meditations. It may be supposed that an 
attainment like this ought to satisfy; but what is the fact? 
What some would call tne demon of doubt, but which we prefer 
to designate a desire to find out the whole truth, and a determi- 
nation to be satisfied with nothing less, again comes upon the spirit 
of the student. He now begins to ap^y the same reasoning to 
the printed Hebrew and Greek text, as he used in questioning the 
authority of the English Bible. He cannot think it reasonable 
that a miracle should have been wrought to secure transcribers 
of manuscripts and printers of editions from error in the case of 
the Scriptures ; and this a priori conclusion is confirmed by the 
confessed existence of various readings. Erasmus and the Elzevirs 
can only be authorities so far as they carefiilly collated and copied 
the oldest and best transcripts of the Greek text in existence, 
and this it is confessed by all they did not do. Another task is 
thus marked out, and it must be bravely and manfally entered 
upon. It must be ascertained what is morally (for in these 
matters demonstration has no place) that text of the Scriptures 

in 



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1 849.] Is Biblical Criticism unfavourable to Piety f 117 

in existence nearest to that which proceeded in old times from 
the pens of holy men. The field of biblical criticism is thus fairly 
entered upon, and the scholar takes his place with Kennicott ana 
Griesbach, and a host of others whose lives were spent in esta- 
blishing a correct text. Fortunately, the labours ot these great 
men can be entered into by him, as a possession ready to his 
hand, and he can reap the harvest which they sowed and tilled. 
By a process far more simple and easy than theirs, he can thus 
obtain rational conviction, and preserve himself from the risk of 
founding or confirming a doctnne or precept on the mistakes or 
interpolations of a transcriber. 

If biblical criticism could be circumscribed within the boun- 
daries already specified by us, the question at the head of this 
paper need scarcely be asked, for it cannot be reasonably thought 
that an effort to ascertain w/iat is the Scripture can be injurious 
to piety: we say reasoTiablt/^ because many do think all such 
studies unnecessary, and more or less fetal to the interests of per- 
sonal religion. All the studies indicated above concern the 
vehicles through which the truth has been handed down to us, 
but there are others which refer to the substance of the truth itself 
as attacked by detractors and impugners. The * Introduction to 
the New Testament, containing an Examination of the most 
important Questions relating to tne Authority, Interpretation, and 
Integrity of the Canonical Books, with reference to the latest En- 
quiries, by Samuel Davidson, LL.D.,' the first volume of which was 
recently published, is the very book to which we could have wished 
to refer as illustrating our meaning. In the preface the learned 
author says, ' It is the writer's belief that the books of the New 
Testament are destined ere long to pass through a severe ordeal. 
The translation of various continental works which have recently 
appeared in England, and the tendency of certain speculations in 
philosophy, indicate a refined scepticism or a pantheistic spirit, 
which confounds the objective and the subjective, or unduly subordi^ 
nates the former to the latter. Many are disposed to exalt their 
intuitions too highly, to the detriment of the historical, as Kant 
did his " pure reason." ' These sceptical objections of ancient 
and modem times are fully stated by Dr. Davidson, and are 
weighed by him in tlie balances of fair and impartial criticism. 
Here we are brought not to the side of a hill, but into the wilder- 
ness indeed, and it is in relation to the dryness of the study and 
the necessary absence from it of the green spots so pleasant to a 
devout mind, that Dr. Kitto uttered the sentiment at the head of 
these remarks : — ' We wish some means could be devised for 
making such researches as profitable, spiritually, as they are 
interesting to the intellect' Into this wilderness we feel sure our 

conscientious 



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118 I* BibUeal Criticism unfavourable to Piety f [July, 

conscientious student will come, for he vill spam no man's opinions 
without examining them. Can he do so safely ? The question is 
thus fiilly brought before us, and we shall occupy the remainder 
of this paper by examining what are the effects ot such studies on 
the mind, and whether they may not be promotive of piety as well 
as injurious to it 

The rule is umversal, that what God has made necessary for us 
to do, we may perform with safety to all our best interests. Aj^ly 
this principle to what is demanded of us in reference to the divine 
Word, and the controversy in hand is settled at once, for no object 
to which the human mind can direct itself more clearly requires 
deep and constant study for its elucidation. We will grant that 
God miffbt have presented his will to us in some positive form, 
admitting of no interpretation, and calling for no exercise of 
thought for its full comprehension ; as, for instance, a code of 
laws mMht have been written in golden letters on the blue ground- 
work of the sky, or the Kble, in its present size and form, miffht 
have been interpreted by miracle to each individual ; or it might 
have been supematm^lly multiplied in every age, each ci^ 
retaining the characters of the original autographs, and each 
reader, m every land, possessing the power of understanding it. 
Such things come within the bounds of possibility certainly, bat, 
alas I for the supine and credulous, they nave not been permitted, 
and a course very different has been adopted by himself and 
marked out for us, by the Author of our being. The New Testa- 
ment was composed in detached portions, the writers of some of 
which are doubtful or unknown. Its historical documents and its 
epistles were written on paper or other perishable materials, and 
subjected to such mischances, that the hoariest antiquity cannot 
say that it ever saw them. Whether the writers of them antid- 
pated that their productions would be handed down to posterity, 
or were intended by them to subserve merely passing exigences, 
cannot now be proved ; it is certain they did nothing to form a 
collection, and in some cases were ignorant of the existence of 
each other's works. The first transcripts made from these apos- 
tolic relics have all perished, and our only authority for the canon 
rests on more recent manuscripts and some ealrly versions. From 
these materials, now scattered over all the libraries of the cirilized 
world, dusty, worm-eaten, and individually imperfect, we collect 
the words of eternal life. We firmly believe that God intended 
these records to be permanent, and to be the foundation on which 
men should build their everlasting hopes ; but it is nevertheless a 
fact that they could have been presented to the C^rcb in their 
present form only by toil and logical criticism and patient thought- 
fulness. The easy reader of a gilt edged KUe, printed on fine 

vellum 



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184d.j Is Biblieal CrUicigm unfavourable to PUiy f 119 

yellum paper, type of the tmcreased and smooth character of his 
fcith, may talk of the folly of musty criticism if he please, but let 
him remember, that not in that workmanship of a refined age, but 
in faded parchments, in antique characters, the words of life are 
found, and that laborious scholars have translated and copied 
them for him. As the labours of the husbandman are shown to 
be indispensable because crops of wheat will not ^ow without 
culture^ so biblical criticism proclaims its importance, because 
without it the bulk of men must be without bibles. 

* We admit this reasoning to some extent,' say the objectors, 
* but the work has now been done, and we ought to sit down and 
enjoy the results of the labours of those learned men whom God 
raised up to consolidate his word and establish the canon. Our 
fathers have lived holily and died happily without doubting any- 
thing respecting these sacred books, being satisfied with them as 
they are, and it is dangerous to moot any question which shall 
unsettle that happy state which God has brought about^ But, 
it may be replied, suppose a man doe^ doubts and what then ? 
We are not rsasoning on behalf of th€i satisfied, but for those who 
are not and csannot be, without going through the process them* 
selves, by which others have answered the cravings and claims of 
trutli, and become convinced that the Holy Scriptures as we have 
them are of God. Further, is not this a dangerous doctrine 
whidi leads men to be satisfied with authority, tradition, and 
custom ? Reformers in every age have been obnoxious to this 
kind of logic ; Ihey have been doubters, and unsettlers of other 
men's mitidsy and have paid the penalty tor independent thinking 
in the measure of persecution they have met with. It was this 
reasoning which in past ages threw Christian men into prison, and 
exposed scholars and mttlhematioians, who could not help doubting^ 
to the rude jests and cruel violence of an ignorant multitude. 
We have just been reading Bulwer's Lasi of the Barons^ and a 
passage there is so appropriate that we will relieve the dulness of 
this discussion by quoting it. 

^ And what misohanoe, my poor girl,' asked the Nevile, soothingly^ 
^ brought thee into such evil cotapany V 

^ I know not, fair sir,' said the girl, slowly recovering herself; ' but 
my father is poor ; and I had heard that on these holiday occasions^ 
one who had a slight skill on the gittern might win a few groats from 
the courtesy of the bystanders. So I stole out with my serving-woman, 
and had already got more than I dared hope, when those wicked tim- 
brel players came round me and accused me of taking the money from 
fhem. And then they called an officer of the ground, who a^ed me 
tay name and holding ; so when I answered, they called my Either a 
wittfrd, and the man broke my poor gittern — see!-*' and she held it 

up, 



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120 Is Biblical Criticism unfavourable to Piety f [Jtdjr, 

up, with innocent sorrow in her eyes yet a half smile on her lips — ^ and 
they soon drove poor old Madge from my side ; and I knew no more, 
till you, worshipful sir, took pity on me.' 

* But why,' asked the Nevile, • did they give to your father so 
unholy a name ?' 

^ Alas ! sir, he is a great scholar, who has spent his means in study- 
ing what he says will one day be of good to the people.' 

' Humph I' said Marmaduke, who had all the superstitions of his 
time, who looked upon a scholar, unless in the Church, with mingled 
awe and abhorrence, and who, therefore, was but ill satisfied with the 
girl's artless answer. 

* Humph I your father — ' but checking what he was about, perhaps 
harshly, to say, as he caught the bright eyes, and arch intelligent &ce, 
lifted to his own — * but it is hard to punish the child for the father's 
errors.* 

* Errors, sir !' repeated the damsel, proudly, and with a slight dis- 
dain in her face and voice. 'But yes, wisdom is ever, perhaps, the 
saddest error.' 

How would Kennicott and Griesbach have fared had they fallen 
on those evil times ! But God raises up such men as His own 
peculiar instruments, and whatever others may say or do, they 
must fulfill their mission. 

God has not made all things so plain as to be discoverable by a 
glance of the eye, and among his secret things, to be developed 
only to the diligent searcher, is his Word ; and if it is the duty of 
a man to satisfy his conscience with regard to its nature and 
claims, then biblical critics are called for, and their vocation is 
holy and honourable. Their pursuits may have an eflFect pre- 
judicial to giety in many ways, as every good thing which man 
undertakes may become injurious to him. These sinister ten- 
dencies of the critical study of the Old and New Testaments we 
shall now point out, as we wish to entertain, ourselves, and exhibit 
to others, a candid and not one-sided view of this interesting 
subject. 

in the first place, a man may become a biblical critic from 
improper motives. He may consider the possession of such attain- 
ments necessary to secure some worldly advantage, and employ 
himself diligently in sacred things, that by their influence he may 
obtain profane ones. It must be acknowledged the profession 
offers but few lures to ambition, and has but scanty portions of 
gold and honour to bestow on successful aspirants ; yet so wayward 
IS the human heart that it is quite possible it may take up this 
holy study for a mercenary end. In Germany professorships 
offerine pecuniary rewards to those who excel in theology and 
biblical criticism are more numerous than in this country, nor are 
they there necessarily conferred on ministers of religion. Whether 

this 



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1849.] Is BiNical Criticism unfawurable to Piety f 121 

this is an advantage or not we cannot decide, but so little fear 
have we of men becoming students of the Bible for mere gain that 
we would gladly see those offices increased in number, which 
would enable students to devote their lives to this pursuit free 
both from the anxieties of the res dami and the engrossing duties 
of a pastoral charge. That this sacred stud^ may be made to 
subserve base ends is no proof that its legitimate tendency is 
worldliness. 

Secondly, biblical criticism may be pursued exclusively, to the 
neglect of other important duties, and may thus become mcident- 
ally a hinderance to piety. Dry and abstruse as the study appears 
to strangers, it has peculiar fiascinations for the initiated. Men of 
refined minds and eleeant tastes will be found eagerly turning 
over discoloured parchments brought from the monasteries of 
Syria, and bearing upon them the ravages of thirteen or fourteen 
centuries, the scattered leaves of portions of the Scriptures or 
theological treatises of canonized saints, and will devote years to 
the task of brining the disjointed fragments into order. Such 
men are well repaid if by their labours a disputed text is settled, 
or an important various reading verified. The subject is also 
engrossing from its inexhaustibleness ; there is always much to be 
done, higher land to be reached however elevated may be our 
present footing, and there is a danger of that becoming a passion 
which ought to be followed with sobriety. like all other occupa- 
tions this may be loved too much, for it is but the means to an 
end. Should, therefore, the end be lost sight of, the religious 
character will sufier, and piety decline, as knowledge increases. 

In the third place, it is possible for a biblical critig to mistake 
his way, and while employed in unravelling that which God for 
wiser purposes has left complicated, become entangled himself in 
the meshes of doubt and error. But this only proves that the 
study is a responsible one, demanding a clear head and a warm 
heart in its disciples. We presume something of this kind must 
often occur, as this is an objection brought against sudi studies 
more frequently than any other, that it unsettles faith, and conducts 
its disciples to confirmed scepticism. In proof of this position we 
are referred to the Continent, where such strange doctrines have 
been propagated by men confessedly well skilled in the external 
knowledge of the Iloly Scriptures. But when this charge of irre- 
ligion has been brought on such grounds, has it been sufficiently 
considered whether the rejection of portions of an old creed, and 
the admission of new opinions is necessarily unfavourable to piety ? 
We should be guilty of a gross petitio prindpii if, when enquiring 
whether the free discussion of biblical topics is unfavourable to 
piety, we should reply, Yes, we know it is so, because it has often 

led 



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Hi Is BiUieal CrtHcUm ttnfmmrcMe to Piety f [July^ 

led men to become heterodox I The Church has been too Icmg 
placed with this illogical mode of conducting the argttment 
against those whose love of truth outweighs their attadhment to 
tradition. Let but this disposition to cty down an antagonist be 
combined with secular power, and we have in existence that whicb 
aforetime sent the exceUent of the earth to prison and to death. If 
a man sincerely seardies tiie Scriptures with a ^ngle desire to sare 
Jiis soul and glorify God, who shall dare to pronounce Mm an 
infidel and an unholy person because he arrives at conclusions 
uncommon and at variance with orthodoxy ? If there are cases m 
which a scepticism produced by biblical studies is combined with 
an irreligious life, let us mourn over the abuse of that which is 
itself good, and resolve to value more highly and prove more con- 
stantly its legHimale purifying results^ In this enquiry it should 
be remembered that men who never have professed serious religion 
may have become celel»ated in this science, and that, consequently 
never having been pious, their pursuits cannot be aoeused of making 
them less so; 

WKle we can discern no evils necessarily following from critic 
Studies connected with the Holy Scriptures, th^^ are some positive 
and inseparable ad vanta^ pi^omotive of an enlighten^ P^^^Y' vhi^h 
must now be noticed. Let but these pursuits be contemplated as 
dutiesy not as amusements or learned fancies, and that peace and 
satisfaction will flow from their performance which always attend 
tasks worthily executed. In ordinary life, piety manifests itself not 
by retiring into deserts, at leaving homely and unattractive duties 
for sentimental meditations, but by diligence in our various callings, 
ilnd a sanctified employment of ourpowers in those spheres marked 
out for us by divine IVovidence. To be blind to coming perils or 
existing exigences may secure fer a man some present comfort) btti 
his religions principles will have a better arena for their exercise 
by his grappling manfully ^th obstacles. Is not the piety of many 
of this easy and confiding character, Seeing no difficultieis in the 
Bible, and becoming willingly blind to all its perplexing questicfns ? 
Surely that man must do a work more acceptable to God who 
Surv^s all that is doubtfiil with a calm determination to be satis- 
fied respecting it, and thus bifilds up on a firm foundil;tion the 
superstructure of his belief. No one doubts that a missionary is 
in the path of duty who labours year by year among a barbarous 
people, surrendering his own personal comfort if haply he may win 
some sjHrits to obedience to Christ ; yet we feel convinced that a 
biblical critic is discharging an office equally divine in its orighiy 
and as productive of bis own religious improvement. To settle a 
disputed reading by searching in almost illegible manuscripts may 
not be so pleasing a duty as writing a hymn or preadiing a sermoov 

but 



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1849.] li Biblieal CriHcism un/anauroMe to Piety 9 12^ 

but it is a duty notwithstandii^, and in tetetetice to personal piety 
may be equally profitable. 

In a healthy mind tbe pervading principle l»*ottght to bear in 
Inblical criticism is a lave of truth ; Md We mention tbis as the 
second eireomstance indicatire of its ftrvoumble bearing on personal 
piet;^. To bear witness to tbe trtith is tbe crand object of all 
reli^on, and tbe revelations of the Old afid New Testaments are 
constantly maintaining an antagonistifC position against the errors 
of the times when they appeared. The sequence of Our duties 
approved and sanctioned by Qod appears to be this : — Search f<M* 
truth first, then sit down and enjoy its blessings. Some pleasures 
will be ours in the search, but it is only when that is finished that 
the highest felicity can be enjoyed. — * Yea, if thou driest after 
knowl^ge, and tiftest tip thy voice for understan£ng ; If thou 
seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as for hid treasures ; 
Then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord, and find the 
knowledge of God. For tbe luCftA giveth wisdom ; out of bis 
mouth Cometh knowledge and understaiHlmg. Then shalt thou 
understand righteougness, and judgment, and equity, yea, every 
good path ' (rrov. ii. 3, 4, 5, 6, 9). Let the lonely student re- 
member this to cheer him amidst nis labours, when depressed by 
the weariness and watching of his arduous task. Let him follow 
still in the footsteps of Christ, who was a man of sorrows in this 
world through his constant advocacy of the truth. In the midst 
of all difficulties he will have the divine approbation, and at last 
obtain the joy set before him. Looked at in this light, a sincere 
biblical scholar may be the highest style of a Christian man. 

Lastly, great benefits are conferred on others by tbe labours of 
the scholar in this department of knowledge. We have before 
shown that the possession of Bibles by the mass of mankind is 
owing to the literary and critical labours of the few ; and the far 
greater part of human beings will still have to depend upon 
»Aokrs for the certainty and stability of their faith. The BiWe 
is a boon to man in proportion as its positions are undetriable, and 
therefore tie is the best friend' of the private Christian who takes 
care that nothing but wliat is impregnable shall be put into his 
hands. We befieve with Dr. Davidson in the passage beforte^^ 
quoted, ' that the books of the New Testament are destined ere 
long to .pass through a severe ordeal.' Doubts and difficulties, 
onee confined to a select few, are being unfolded to the mant, and 
the safety and pleasure of a good man will soon require tmt all 
tilat can be said against the Scripture- shall be grapp^d with, and 
eitiier admitted or authoritatively contradicted and set at rest. 
We would let the most Unlettered person enjoy his Bible in peace, 
unapproachable by infidel objections, and this will* be accomfdisbed 

when 



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124 1$ Biblical Criticism unfavourable to Pidy f [July, 

when all that objectors can advance is brought into conflict, in- 
vestigated, and decided upon. Then indeed will the Word of 
God ' look forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the 
sun, and terrible as an army with banners.' A pursuit which is 
destined to accomplish this is a noble one, and the most enlightened 
and fervent piety may be expected to accompany it. 

With what a simple grandeur do the great verities of our holy 
reli^on erect their nead above all the strife and rebuke and blas- 
phemy which for eighteen hundred years ha?e endeavoured to 
depress them ! How untiringly does the Bible still perform its 
great work of converting the soul, purifying the heart, and inspiring 
nopes of immortal bliss! If it were not of God, would these 
sublime objects be accomplished so continuously, whatever changes 
may take place in ecclesiastical afiairs, or whatever fresh assaults 
may be made upon its bulwarks? Shall we then fear for the 
future ? That be far from us. We will not fear what enemies 
can do; much less will we be apprehensive that the efforts of 
friends can hurt this glorious edifice. Every weapon and every 
friendly instrument brought to bear on this temple can only show 
the depth of its foundations, and clear from the moss and dust of 
years the fine chisellings of its entablature. 



ON THE 

INTERPRETATION OF GENESIS, CHAP. IV. 7. 

By the Rev. J. W. Donaldson, D.D. 

No Hebrew scholar needs to be told that the brief account of the 
first sacrifice mentioned in the Old Testament is beset with many 
and very serious difficulties. The various opinions, which have 
been propounded by previous commentators, may be seen collected 
in Schumann's elaborate edition of the Book of Genesis (Lips. 
1829). That editor speaks of the verse referred to above (iv. 7) 
as ' hie locus vexatissimus, quem crucem interpretum, antiquitus 
et conservatam et propagatam, baud inepte dicas ;' and I am sure 
that no person, thoroughly conversant with classical criticism, will 
be satisfied with any one of the explanations which have been 
already given. In stating the conclusion at which I have arrived, 
I have omitted, as far as possible, all reference to the theological 
bearings of the question. Acting on the views which I have else- 
where 



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1849.] On the Interpretation of Gen. iv, 7. 125 

where advocated,* I have dealt with this passage in a purely philo- 
logical spirit. And I must remark, that, before dogmatic inferences 
can be drawn from this or any other difficult passage in the Old 
Testament, we must be prepared to show that our criticism and 
Qpcegesis rest upon a strictly scientific basis — a caution too gene- 
rally neglected by divines. 
The text stands as follows : 

ini>iK?0 ^^^^^ Yt^ ^^W "0^^ i^p^O ^ D«5 n»^ 3^*rw «^^ij 

Or, in an English transcription : 

hd'Ioh 'him-teitiv 8,.*hSthy w^^him loh tkiitivy la-petha'h 'hadhd'kth 
rovetzf tc^'hSleikd t„shvqathd wi-^hattdh tim^shdl-bo. 

That the text was not very certain, or not very legible, even 
when the LXX. made their version, is pretty clear from their 
rendering of the passage, which runs thus : wx I^ev hp^ws Trpoa- 
eviyxriSy oqBoJs is fjiri Sie'X'yif, ^i/jLaqrer ; i^fft/x^aov* 9pof as i dvoarpo(pri 
(xvrovf xal ou aq^ei^ avrou. From this it seems probable that the 
Alexandrine Jews used to read nfe(^ Id-sS^hthy and n^nfi^ l%-pVth$th^ 
or nnh U'naJtMa% for n«b B^hiihy and nn^^ la-'pethah. They 
must also have taken fan for the imperative yhn r^votz, and proba- 
bly confused between Sn^^Pi t^shHwqcUhow and hn^OPi t^gikogdthdw. 

Notwithstanding these indications of ancient uncertainty, all mo- 
dem commentators, with the exception perhaps of Houbigant, have 
acquiesced in the text as it stands, and have either not seen or 
have arbitrarily set aside the internal evidence which proves that 
the passage is both corrupt and mutilated. Thus they are not 
only willing to take the feminine nK^n 'hadd'htky with the mas- 
culine yai rovetZy for which there is an obvious alternative, but 
they find no difficulty in referring the latter part of the verse to 
the same feminine noun, which not only involves a similar viola- 
tion of concord, but, what is much worse, introduces an irrecon- 
cileable inconsistency in the sense of the words themselves. For 
in the other passage in which the same collocation occurs— namely, 
in Gen. iii. 16 — uie subjection of the woman to her husband is 
pointedly declared. If tlierefore the words in the passage before 
us refer to nMpn *hadh£hih^ they must mean that Cain would have 
the dominion over sin, and not vice versd^ as the commentators 
would have us believe. To say nothing of grammatical difficulties, 
it seems to me so unlikely that any promise of advantage to Cain 

* In a book called ' Maskil le-Sopher: the Principles and Processes of Classical 
Philology applied to the Analysis of the Hebrew Language.' London, 1848. 

should 



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126 On the Interpretatim of Oen. iv. 7. [July, 

should have been connected with the negative altematiye— namely, 
with the 8i]5)position of his evil-doing — that I should have be«i 
led to conclude h priori that something had feUen out before these 
last words. The followinj^ considerations will, I hope, convince 
most persons not only that is there a lacuna here, but that we may 
restore the words omitted, or their necessary tenor, with a very fair 
amount of probability. 

In the nrst place, I would observe that, as Cain's murderous 
attack upon his brother is immediately connected with these words 
of the Almighty, and as there is notning else to explain the deed 
which follows, it would be reasonable to conclude that the promise, 
which they involve, was addressed to Abel, and not to Cain. On 
that supposition the case will be perfectly analogous to those of 
Esau and the brethren of Joseph, who formed ^ans for making 
away with their younger brothers respectively, in consequence of 
expectations interfering with the privileges of primogeniture (Gen. 
x&vii. 41 ; xxxvii. 18, sqq.). In the second place, a promise of 
this kind would convey to a younger son something not previously 
possessed by him, and which might therefore be considered as a 
reward to him and as a derogation to the first-bom. But it would 
not have much force if it were intended only to confirm rights 
already existing, and necessarily taken for granted. The phrase 
in wUeh the promise is contamed is, mutatis mutandis, the same 
as that which proclaims the subjection of Eve to Adam. Bat 
there is no reason why it should not also express the degradation 
of an elder son from his hereditary privileges. Indeed, with re- 
gard to th^ most empho^tic part of it, b ^»^A rVP^ ^hattah timn^hdl 
boy ^ thou shalt have dominion over him,' it is worthy of remark 
that the verb h^ mashal, used here, is the very word employed by 
Joseph's brethren, when they indignantly reject the inference to 
be drawn from his dream : ^y^ ^Wpn ^^Bte^K 'Am mashol ti^m..3hSl 
bdnHy * shalt thou actually have the dominion over us ?' (Gen. 
xxxvii. 8). If therefore we had no evidence beyond that furnished 
by the latter part of our text, I should be convinced that in the 
passage, as it originally stood, the Almighty was introduced as 
addressing to Abel a promise, inconsistent with the birthright of 
Cain, and therefore serving as the suggestion and inducement for 
the fratricide which is described immediately after. 

A more accurate examination of the former part of the text 
will lead to the same conclusion. For it appears to me that the 
word riK?^ «,'Ae*A, which has given so much trouble to the com- 
mentatora, is of itself sufficient to show that the birthright of Cain 
is referred to in this enigmatical and oracular sentence. If we 
turn to the passage in which the sin of Reuben is connected with 

the 



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1849.] On the InterpreMim of Gen. iv. 7. 127 

the 1qs9 of 1)19 birtbri^t, we iball find ihtB saose word in an 

^^^li«tokeabl6 siguifiioii^Q (G^p. xlix, 3) : 

/efA^ s,/heth w^-Jether •AAzr, 
pa'haz.Jd karn-fnaPm /hal-Mhar, 

i. e.t ^ aUhppgh tboU| O Beubeo, hast the pre-emineoce in dignity 
and tbe pre-efpipence in power, yet, aa tbou haat boiled over like 
water, OQ thou no longer pre-eminent.' I have followed Luther, 
JVIicbaelis, Datbe, and others, in reading ^trt* for TW, and have 
interpreted the word, with Geeenins, with a re&rence to water 
boiling and bubbling over. We have the same metaphor in the 
original force of the Greek xX<S«i and v0qi9 (see New Cratylus^ 
pp. 412, 414) ; and the converge metaphor is involved in the 
I^tln eonfUto^ rejvto. The prohibition np^ir^« *bal'ioihary nearly 
amounts to an abnegation, as in cb. xlix. 6, The word n^b $,.^hith, 
which I have rendered ' dignity,* is properly the feminine form of 
tbe infinitive from k^j, * to elevate, exalt.* Robertson {ClavU 
Pentateuchi, p, 252) is obviously right in his rendering of the 
word : ^ eminentia, di^itas magna, nempe prtncipatus primo- 
genitures proprius. Sic reddenda est haec vox r\^y Geq. iv. 7. 
Ubi cum fwnoremy turn potestatem svperiorem exprimit, qualis 
aniiquissimis temporibus fidt primogeniiur(B praerogativa.' The 
whole pfipsage quoted above refers to the loss of Reuben's birth- 
right : * For he was the first bom ; but, forasmuch as he defiled 
his father's bed, his birthright was given unto the sons of Joseph ' 
(1 Chron. V. 1), Now the words in Gen. iv, 7, are also addressed 
to an elder son ; and the passage just quoted &hows that the dignity 
of birthright might be forfeited by mis(K)nduct. What interpreta^p 
tion, therefore, of the question put to Cain would be more natural 
than this ? ^ If thou doest well, is there not, or hast thou not, the 
dignity or elevation of birthright V And then the other alternative 
follows in a very just antithesis. For j^jn signifies ' he couched or 
lay down like a quadruped ;' and as in Gen, xlix. 9, it is opposed 
^^t^^^'^mfj^.^qimenAy <who shall rouse him up?' so here it 
forms a very good counterpart to n^fc^, the primary meaning of 
which is • a lifting up ' or * exaltation.' It seems to me very pro- 
bable that the n at the end of nMOn ought to be repeated before 
Xy\i and that we ought therefore to read fy^ ti-r.-batz. So that 
the meamng of the wprda addressed to Cain'^is as follows : * Dost 
thou not know that elevation (dignity, or primogeniture and its 

privileges) 



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128 On the Interpretation of Gen. iv. 7. [July> 

priyileses) is dependent on thy doing well ; and that if thou doest 
not well, thou art grovelling (flrsTTft/xar wTwaflriv x«/t**«^6Tif)y) at 
the gate of sin ?' Tnis, I'conceive, is quite sufficient as a declara- 
tion to the elder son of his forfeiture and degradation : and if we 
compare this passage with ch. iii. 14-19, we shall see that the 
spirit of this antique style required that a corresponding announce- 
ment should be made to the younger brother. I have already 
shown that the next words must have been addressed to Abel, 
and I think that the following considerations will show that they 
were the conclusion of the promise vouchsafed to him. 

In the New Testament we have the following references to Abel. 
The Epistle to the Hebrews states (xi. 4) : islant vXeiom Qutrixv 

fAaprvqovvros sirl rois ieupoif avrov tow 06ot), ksu ^C avrrts a^goBayiv 
\aXst. And in Matthew's Gospel (xxiii. 35) we find the following 
expressions : wSv oifAo. S/xfiwoy exxt'vW*'** s*"* "^^^ 7^^> «*^ tov 
ouixaros "AfieX rov ^ixoeiot;. From these passages, I think we may 
fairly infer that in the original text of the book of Genesis the 
Almighty declared to Abel that, having ofiered his sacrifice in faith, 
and as an atonement typical of the Messiah's mediatorial death, 
he was held to be righteous ; and, as a corollary to the contrary 
declaration to Cain, that his brother's birthright was transferred 
to him. The following sentences, which I have derived from other 
parts of the book of Genesis, appear to me to contain the 
necessary sense of the words omitted in the text under con- 
sideration : — 

Or in English characters : u-L.-Hevel ^kdmar ; M ^hasUhd ^hith 
had-ddvar haz-reh (Gen. xxii. 16), w,Ji£h^antd My hinnSh 
^ke'ksh..vekd Uhd tzeddqdh (xv. 7), v^'tih.jeh g.mr La*kfkd (xxvii. 
29). That the force of this supplement may be more immediately 
obvious, I subjoin a literal version of the context, in which the 
interpolation is placed within brackets : * And it came to pass 
after a lapse of time that Qa^n brought of the fruits of the ground 
a min'hdh or ^ft to Jehovah : and Hevel^ he also brought of the 
first-bom of his flock, and of the fat thereof. And Jehovah paid 
attention to Hevel and to his min*hdh. But to Qain and his 
mirChdh Jehovah paid no attention. And wrath was kindled in 
Qfliin and his countenance fell. Then said Jehovah to Qpiin : 

* Why is wrath kindled to thee ? 
And why has thy countenance fallen ? 
Is not dignity this, — to do the deeds of the righteous ? 
If thou doest not well, at the door of sin thou art crouching. 

*[And 



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1849.] On the MerpretaUm of Gen. iv. 7. 129 

* [And to Hevel he said : 

' Since thou hast done this thing, and hast placed thy trust in Jehovah, 
Lo ! I have counted thy fidth as the meed of the righteous for thee ; 
Lo ! thou art lord and king in the room of thy first-born brother ;] 
His desire shall be thine, and thou shalt domineer o'er him.' ^ 

I venture to hope that, as far as internal evidence is admissible 
in such a case, the reasonableness of my suggestion will speak for 
itself. That such lacunos in the Hebrew text are not uncommon, 
that they are indicated in the MSS., and recognized by the Masora, 
is well knpwn. Thus, in the very next verse there are indications 
of a lacuna in many of the MSS., and, as Rosenmiiller mentions, 
^ ipsi Masoretharum nonnulli codicibus Hebraicis hanc notam 
adscripserunt : P^D& y VDK3 KpDfi {lacuna in medio versu). Alii 
contra, et quidem plerique, monent lectorem KpDD k!?D, nullam esse 
lacunam.^ Now as I do not believe there is any necessity for the 
proposed addition of iTjbn, nj^j nilkdh has-sddeh^ ' let us go into 
the field,' in ver. 8, I am disposed to believe that the Masoretliic 
note properly belonged to ver. 7, and its contradiction to ver. 8, 
after the note had got misplaced. 

If any one object to the proposed addition, because, as Abel was 
killed, and did not supersede ma brother, no transfer of birthright 
could have been promised to him, I will just say in passing— for a 
full examination of the point would carry us into dogmatic theology 
— that the privileges bestowed upon Abel, like those involved m 
the blessing conferred upon Jacob, were properly of a spiritual 
nature, and the Jews seem to have understood expressly that these 
prerogatives were unafiected by his death. Thus the author of the 
Epistle to the Hebrews says twice that, thouqh dead^ Abel is still 
a preacher of faith in the atonement (xi. 4 : o«* oLVTr^s [rftf ^valas] 
d.^o6avwv BTi KnXeT; xii. 24: otifjLari pavriai^ov xpslrroya X^XoDvri 
vapa rov^AfieK), 

^ I have given a sort oi hexameter cadence to the words of Jehovah which appear 
to be rhythmical in the original. The same has been done, I presume involantarily, 
in the aathorized versibn of Isa. i. 2, 3, 



VOL. IV. — NO. VII. K Miscellanea. 



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( 130 ) [July, 



MISCELLANEA. 



REMARKS ON ROM. ix. 3. 
By the Rev. William Milligan, M.A. 



' For I could wish that myself were accursed fW>m Christ for my brethren^ mjr 
kinsmen according to the flesh.' 



Few passages of the sacred writings, unconnected with any of the 
more important doctrines of rehgion, have given rise to a greater 
variety of opinion, or been the subject of more discussion than that 
above quoted. This may have arisen partly from the sentiment 
that it has been supposed to convey, and partly from the language 
in which it is delivered ; while not a few, viewing it in the li^t 
of what they suppose the Apostle ought to have written, rather 
than in that of what he has actually written, have explained it 
more according to their own preconceived notions than according 
to any fair exegesis of his words. 

Passing various less important or probable opinions entirely by, 
it may be remarked that the main difficulty of the passage lies in 
the word ofj^xo/w-^v, and that in explaining this word we have 
simply to determine between the conditional meaning * I could 
wish,' and the meaning of the past ' I wished.' In the former 
case we shall have to refer the sentiment to Paul the believer, in 
the latter to Saul, the persecutor of the followers of Christ ; and 
hence it is obvious that if grammatical considerations do not 
absolutely require us to adopt one of these meanings to the exclu- 
sion of the other, we shall have fadlities afforded us for coming to 
a decision by considemtions arising from the fitness or unfitness 
of the sentiment in the circumstances under which it was uttered. 

The most important argument urged in favour of the meaning 
* I wished or prayed,' is unquestionably the assertion that it is not 
grammatical to render the simple imperfect by the meaning of the 
conditional. This argument has lately* been brought forward by 
J^rofessor Dunbar, who says, * it is absurd to say vrith some critics 

• In the Biblical Review for October, 1848. 

that 



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1849.] Miscellanea. 131 

that the imperfect is sometimes used for the optative with &¥. It 
is never so by anv good writer.' The authority of this well-known 
scholar may surely be accepted as sufficient, so far as the classical 
writers are concerned ; but we must again urge with Winer, Tho- 
luck, Stuart, and almost all commentators on the passage, the use 
of the imperfect indicative in Acts xxv. 22, and Gal. iv. 20. Could 
a consistent meaning be ^ven to these passages while l^oc/Xopivjy 
in the one case, and ^dsXov in the other, were translated as simple 
imperfects, it might then be admitted that we ought to adopt the 
same rendering in the passage which we are now considering : but 
it appears impossible to do so. In Acts xxv. 22, the whole tone 
and bearing of the narrative require us to understand Agrippa's 
wish to hear Paul as one excited in his mind at that particular 
moment by the narrative of Festus. We have not only no evi- 
dence that Agrippa ever had entertained that wish before, not 
only does it at once strike us in reading the whole passage that 
his curiosity was now for the first time i^iised, but on any other 
supposition there is a baldness, a nakedness in the remark which 
forms a powerful argument against rendering the verb as a simple 
past. We would have expected, m conf(»inity wiUi the common 
use ©f the imperfect,* that soae oilier circumstances would have 
been mentioned, fixing more accurately the season in the past 
when the wish had been entertained, or the reason why it had not 
been gratified ; or as the wish was certsdnly in the mind of Agrippa 
at the present mom^it, we might have looked for the perfect tense 
tsf the verb, which would then have comprehended both the idea 
of the past and of the present. Nor does it argue against the 
rendenng ^ I could wish toere it possible^' that Festus immediately 
answers ' to-morrow thou shalt hear him.' Agrippa might have 
well thought that the opportunity of hearing Paul was past. Festus 
had already declared that he had resolved to send him to Caesar ; 
w,hy should the prisoner have to plead a second time before a 
subordinate tribunal? — he had appealed unto Caesar, unto Caesar 
he should go. 

Again in Gal. iv. 20, the context absolutely forbids us to take 
^deXov as a simple past, for even if we should consider the mean- 
ing of a^n doubtful, the on d^oqovfjiai ev vfjAv fixes the whole 
sentence to a present signification, nor is this less required by the 
preceding verses. Surprised and pained by the information which 
he had received of the falling away of the Galatians from the sim- 
plicity of the Gospel, and remembering (i. 6) their livelier appre- 
ciation of the grace of Christ when he was previously among them, 

* Cotapare for the use of the imperfect Winer's Gram, des neutestam. Sprachidioms, 
pp. 306. 3U. 

K 2 the 



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132 Miscellanea. [July^ 

the Apostle expresses, in ver. 18, his wish that they would be 
equally zealous for what was good though he was now absent ; and 
then, m ver. 19, in holy anxiety for their spiritual welfare, he 
describes, in strong language, his present longings for it; how 
would it at once break in upon the impassioned train of thought 
which he is pursuing, and which he continues in ver. 20, &c., if 
we were to understand ^^deXov as a past ? whereas a consistent ami 
appropriate meaning is given to it when we translate, * would cmly 
it were possible that I could now be with you/ 

Since then in both these passages we must understand the simple 
imperfect in a conditional sense, why should we not do so iu 
another ? 

But it is again objectionable to adopt as the sentiment of the 
passage * it was my constant wish or prayer that I myself were 
accursed from Christ,' referring tliis to the time when he persecuted 
the Chiu'ch, for — 

1. How could the Apostle have wished or prayed thathemi^ht 
be more accursed or alien from Christ than he then was ? He 
considered Christ to be an impostor ; he was animated by the 
fiercest spirit of persecution against him, and by opposing his 
cause to the utmost of his power, he thought he was doing God 
service. How then could he be more an enemy to him than he 
actually was ? how could he pray for a more bitter hostility than 
he then had ? or how could the intensity of his zeal be increased ? 
It was at that time not so much his prayer that he might be 
anathema from Christ, as his boast and glory that he was so, and 
that he could claim both from the Sanhedrim and from his country- 
men the honour of being his most determined opponent. 

2. To say that he felt pain now, ^ lest his example then should 
have tended to encourage his countrymen in their unbelief,' is at 
least putting a thought into his mouth which is not elsewhere 
spoken of in Scripture. Pain on that account he certainly may 
have felt, but so far as the evidence of Scripture goes, the thought 
upon which he most dwelt, was not the harm that might have been 
done by his zeal against Christ, but the good that iSould now be 
done by seeing such a sinner as he had been, converted and made 
a preacher of that faith which once he destroyed (Gal. i. 13-17 ; 
Phil. iii. 6-10 ; 1 Tim. i. 15, 16 ; Acts xxvi. 9, &c.). His humility 
and sorrow were indeed deep and true when he reflected that he 
had been ^ a bla^hemer and persecutor, and injurious ;' but that 
great thought which filled his soul in reference to his countrymen 
was this. See how I have been saved by grace : O that you would 
only come and be saved too ! 

3. This rejecting of the Gospel by the Jews he ordinarily con- 
nects not with any example which he had set them, but either with 

God's 



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1849.] Miscellanea. 133 

God's mysterious dealings, or with their own self righteousness 
(Rom. xi. 1-11 ; X. 2). He sees that there is a vail upon their 
hearts which prevents their turning to the Lord. 2 Cor. iii. 15. 

4. There is a want of correspondence between this rendering 
and the strong assertion in vers. 1, 2 — * I say the truth in Christ, 
I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy 
Ghost that 1 have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my 
heart :' why ? because I once prayed to be anathema from Christ, 
and so may have confirmed them by my example in unbelief? Is 
it not much more suitable to adopt the rendering of our version ? 
I have all this sorrow because they still continue out of Christy 
yea, I could even wish myself accursed from him, if my fell might 
be their salvation. The exceedingly strong language of these 
verses is the nataral outburst of that same feeling which had been 
glowing in such fervour and such rejoicing confidence at the end 
of the eigtrth chapter. These are our blessed privileges, he 
exclaims, O my countrymen, would that they were yours I We 
interrupt the thought by rendering 'nvxofAmv in the manner pro- 
posed by the learned Professor, and the whole passage constitutes 
far too impassioned a torrent of eloquence and feeling to permit 
us to do so without very decided cause. 

5. The expression ' raJv avyyevi^v fJLOu xccrx rrdqKa,^ still further 
militates against the proposed rendering. Surely it is from a 
Christian standiM point that these words are spoken, ' My brethren 
aceordinff to tkefiesh^ When did this feature in their state come 
prominently to his view? Was it not after he was himself a 
Christian, and was Mving in the spirit f Not afi if he here used 
these worda by way of depreciating them, i-ather do they express 
the depth of his love, that love whidi, kindled in the love of Cnrist, 
burned mik so steady and so bright a flame^ He only states the 
truth when he implies that they are not his brethren in the spirit ; 
oay, it is this that is the very ground of his sorrow — yet still fallen, 
alien as they are from all he loves and hopes for, they are his 
brethren according to the flesh, and his longing desire is that they 
were also united to him in spirit. But all this implies that he was 
speaking as a Christian, and not putting himself in the position 
whieh he occupied when he was still a persecutor. 

S. It is only by keeping to the ordinarily received translation 
of fliese words that we give tnae force to vers. 4, 5, for all this 
«numerati(m of their privileges is but a deepening of the thought, 
how sad that they who have so much should yet want that which is 
the crown of all ; but we want adequate cause for the enumeration 
if we make the thought of ver. 3 sorrow for the evil which he by 
his example had done them. 

Neither is the objection that' the ordinary translation gives us 

an 



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184 Miscellanea. [July, 

an * impious thought ' a valid one. We answer with the deeply 
spiritual Bengel, ' non capit hoc anima non valde provecta. Ete 
mensura amoris in Mose (Sxod. xxxii. 32) et Paula non iacile est 
existimare,' and with Tholuck, * The obiections which have been 
brought against this ^' portentosus amor,' as Bucer styles k, ariae 
all from a cool way of contemplating it, which altogether forgets 
what a loving heart, in the fervour of its passion, is capable of 
uttering.' Com. on Rom. ii. 183 ; Menzies' translation. And 
who so fervent, so full of love, as the great Apostle of the Gen- 
tiles ? the more we realize to ourselves his feelings, the more we 
can form to ourselves a clear idea of what he was, the less shall 
we be startled by this sentiment ; and so far from finding with 
some in tlie concluding verses of chap. viii. a reason against this 
rendering, we shall rather find a confirmation of it. We shall 
then see a peculiar force in the ahros iyw of ver. 3, which so em- 
phatically carries us back to these triumphant exclamations, a-foS^ 
aqfAoiioiis vaqsviOviKS xal ro auros syw^ To/v v^vk vegi r^f oiyavris rviS 

It appears tibeu on the whole that the common rendering should 
be preferred. 

I cannot, however, conclude these remarks without stating 
another mode of translating these words, suggested by a friend, 
which has at least the merit of originality, which obviates some d 
those objections already stated against the rendering ^ I wished or 
prayed,' and which gives a very consistent and beautiful meaning 
to the passage. Agreeing with. Professor Dunbar that rtuxif^'^y 
must be translated as an imperfect, and yet sensible of the ob- 
jections that may be urged against translatmg ^I prayed,' he pro- 
poses to render by the Homeric usage of the words * for myself 
boasted that I was,' &c. He would then adopt the suggestion of 
the late Dr. Morehead — who, however, spoils his own idea by 
proposing that the clause should be read interrogatively — and 
would enclose the words fivxofxfny yaq ahrof lyw dvdBsfAa eivat aTro 
Toi) X^KTTot), in a parenthesis, connecting ver. 2 with uwlq rSv 
oSbX^uv fjiou. Referring, then, the clause at the beginning of 
ver. 3 to the period preceding Paul's conversion, we have, in sup- 
port of this rendering, whatever confirmation may be derived from 
the fact that at that time he did boast of his hatred to the name 
and cause of Christ ; that this was indeed then bis distinguishing 
characteristic, and that now he might well look back upw that 
melancholy period of his history with continual grief and heaviaess 
of heart. In tliis way too we have a clause to complete the sense 
of ver. 2, which seems on the common rendering to be abruptly 

f Thepdoret, as quoted by Tholuck in loc. 

broken 



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IMd.] Miscellanea, 135 

broken off. If iben we adopt as the thought that connects the 
first clause of ver, 3 with the passage, that he need not be alto* 
gether discouraged, that there was still some hope of their conver- 
sion, since even the persecutor and blasphemer had obtained mercy, 
or if, what is perhaps still better, we suppose the connecting thouefat 
to be the feelmg that he knew by experience the misery of that 
state of alienation from Christ in which they still were, we shall 
have the following as the translation of the whole passage — ' I say 
the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness 
in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and continual 
sorrow in my heart (for I too once boasted that I was anathema 
from Christ, and I know therefore the sadness of that state), for 
my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh, who are Is- 
raelites,' &C. 

Those who can satisfy themselves that they may adopt in the 
New Testament the meaning of * I boast ' for the verb f ^o/x«i, may 
perhaps approve of this translation, which seems free of difficulty, 
and gives a very interesting meaning to the whole passage ; but 
more evidence would be needed to confirm such a translation of 
the word before it could be generally adopted. 



ON THE BAPTISM OF FIRE. 
By the Rev. W. Niblock, M.A. 



' He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and fire.* — Matt. iii. 11. 
iap fiii Tis yttnrrf0rj i^ tJkirros kcu irytvfJuxTos. — John iii. 5. 
8i^ \ovTpov TaXiYY€V€<rl(u kou etyoucMP^tus irrci^/tioros. — Tit. iii. 5. 



As interpretations of these several portions of Scripture have 
been published in your fifth number, opposed to the expositions 
which I gave of them in your third, 1 be^ you will allow me 
room for a short reply in your next. I snail feel particularly 
obliged by your complying with this request, in consequence of 
n^ anxiety to gratify as soon as possible the wishes of the Rev. 
Charles Hole expressed in his critique, that he writes with the 
hope of calling forth something more upon the subject 

It will be recollected that I understood the term fire in Matt, 
iii. 11 as qualifying the baptism of the Holy Ghost, and the whole 
passage as signi^ng the baptism of the Spirit especially on the 
day of Pentecost. . Our Saviour, speaking of the baptism of his 
disciples with the Holy Ghost in Acts i. 1-5, manifestly alludes to 

the 



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136 MuceOama. [July, 

the prediction of John the Baptist, when he said fliey should be 
baptized with the Holy Ghost and with fire, in ref^ence to the 
Holy Ghost sitting npoin each of them as with cloreii tongues of 
fire. The peculiar appearance of the fire (that of tongues) was 
emblematic of the diversity of languages which the Apostles 
would be enabled to speak. The baptism of the Holy Ghost 
and fire denotes not only the miraculous influenees et the Spirit 
by which the New Testament diurch was solemnly consecrated to 
God, but also his regenerating and sanctifying influences which, 
like fire, purify, soften and iqflame the heart with love to Jesus. 
The Rev. Mr. Hole, in reply to me, says, ' now clearly fire cannot 
qualify Holy Ghost' Why not? He assigns no reason, and I 
am not aware that any reason can be assigned. I am still of 
opinion that the term fire is exegetical of the phrase the Holy 
Gbost ; a^ this Mr. Walker, one of your contributors, says may 
be the case. Mr. Hole says again, ^ if it be replied that the 
expression means the Holy Ghost acting after the analogy of fire, 
as fire, or resembling fire ; here we have,' he says, ^fire defining, 
not qualifying, and consequently the alleged examples become 
useless.' What ajleged examj&es? I suppose he means the 
examples of hendiadys which i have cited. Mr. Hole must be 
surely aware that whether the latter noun define or qualify, or 
explain the former, it does not alter the nature of hendiadys. I 
Bsed the word qualifying in the greatest extent of meaning as 
signifying, defining, explaining, or whatever the noun following 
the copuTaldve predicates of the one that precedes it. Mr. Hole 
says, ' he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, even with fire 
is clearly iaadndssible.' Why so ? The Rev. gentleman might 
as well say that the original is not admissible. The reason that 
he gives for the inadmissibilitv of the language is that the idea of 
fire is quite subordinate in tne writer's mind to that of the Holy 
Ghost. But this is clearly no reason at all. * Were it baptize 
Kfith fire and (even) the Holy Ghost, it would be a different 
matter,'^ he thinks, ^ for the main idea would liien be last, as it 
ought to be t' aliquando bonus Homems dormitat. ITie writer in 
employing this language has evidently mistaken the nature of the 
figure in question altogether. It is the explanatory idea that 
ought to be last, and not the main idea. 

After having endeavoured to supersede the construction which 
I have given of the passage under review, Mr. Hole brings forth 
cme of his own. *Bv fire,' he says, *is denoted something quite 
distinct from, and wholly different to, the Holy Ghost ; that, in 
fact, it means the fiery baptism of judgment, tb© doom of God's 
judgment on the impenitent.' The word baptism in the language 
lihder consideration is employed to symbolize the work of -the 

Spirit. 



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1849.] Miscelhnea. 137 

S})irit. It oannot be an emblem of purification and of utter 
destruction — a symbol of salvation and an emblem of the tor- 
ittents of hell at the same time. No word can have two meanings 
the one radically different from the other, especially in such a 
connection as the word baptism stands in the phrase under exami- 
nation. Baptism, as a religious ordinance in the New Testament 
eoonomy, is a sensible »gn of an invisible grace ; it signifies and 
seals our engrafting into Christ and our engagements to be the 
Lord's : it is a symbol of purity of nature and a seal of final sal- 
vation to all genuine Christians to whom it is administered. A 
deliverance n'om the guilt and defilement of sin, and a partici- 
pation in all the blessings of the covenant of grace, are umformly 
the things signified by the ordinance of baptism. The divers 
baptisms enjoined under the Old Testament dispensation were 
also symbolical of inward purity. Baptism cannot therefore be 
an emblem of punishment or of utter destruction, inasmuch as it 
is always connected with inward purity and final salvation. 

Mr. Hole attempts to prove that ihe word baptism is used as a 
metaphor of punishment by our Lord where ne says, I have a 
baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened until it be 
accomplished ? Can ye be baptized with the baptism that I am 
baptized with ? The sufferings of Christians for the cause of God 
and truth may be called a baptism, not simply as they are suffer- 
ings, but as they are significant of purity ot heart and sanctity of 
character. The death of our Saviour too may be called a bap- 
tism, not as suffering or punishment, but because it was a proof 
of his internal h(diness and devotedness to God, and because it 
was introductory to the exercise of his kingly office and investiture 
witii all dominion both in heaven and in earth as mediator, as well 
as the means by which he laid the foundation of the everlasting 
happiness of all believers. The other passages to which the rev. 
gentleman refers to prove that baptism is used as a metaphor 
of punishment, have (in my humble opinion) scarcely the appear- 
ance of a relation to the point at issue. I must therefore con- 
clude my review of Mr, Hole's production by saying that, in my 
opinion, he has completely failed to establish his interpretation of 
Matt. iii. 11. 

Let UB next examine the strictures whicji Mr. Walker make& 
upon my mode of interpreting John iii. 5. I expounded the 
phrase lav fjuii rtf yen^iO?} I| SSarof xat miufxaros as a hendiadys,. 
and as signifying regeneration. This, I think, is clearly its mean- 
ing from the whole tenor of our Lord's discourse with Nicodemus* 
Mr. Walker thinks otherwise. On the supposition of hendiadys, 
he says, we should have expected the more important word to 
come first, and the qualifying one second, Ix weii/xaros; %aX S^aros, 

It 



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138 Miscellanea. [July 

It is perhaps scarcely correct to say that the more importaot word 
should come first, because it may so happen that the explanatcMry 
word may be as important as the one which it explains — as is 
the case in the phrases, ' God and our Father/ ^ God and our 
Saviour.' It is always necessary, however, that tike explanatory 
or qualifying word be second, and the one explained the first. In 
Jolm iii. 5, the expresdons bom of water and of the spirit, on 
each side of the copulative, signii^ the £iame thing, the latter ex- 
pression being exegetical of the former. It does not appear to 
me that bom of the Spirit and of water could properly be a hen- 
diadys, as Mr. Walker suggests, because the latter phrase would 
not be so well understood as the former. 

The leading objection, however, which Mr. Walker appears 
to have to my exposition is, that it obliges us to understand water 
as symbolical of the regenerating virtue of the Holy Spirit, con- 
trary, as he supposes, to Scriptmre usage. Again, he says, ' I do 
not think that anywhere in Scripture water is used as the emblem 
of the sanctifying or purifying operations of the Spirit' Now I 
freely confess that my exposition does require us to understand 
water as denoting the punfying influences of the Spirit ; it is cer- 
tainly based on this foundation, and if it be not solid, the super- 
structure which I have raised upon it must fall into ruins. I 
have not, however, the least fear of this result, because I think it 
can be satisfactorily shown that water is used by the sacred 
writers both in the Old and New Testaments as a symbol of in- 
ternal purification. In confirmation of this sentiment I adduce 
the following portions of Scripture, namely, Isa. xii. 3 ; Jer. ii, 
13 ; Ps. xxxvi. 8, 9 ; Prov. xiv. 27 ; Jer. xvii. 13 ; Zech. xiii. 1 ; 
Isa. xli. 18 ; xliii. 19, 20 ; xxxv. 6 ; xliv. 3 ; Iv. 1 ; John iv. 10, 14, 
and vii. 37, 38, 39 ; 1 Cor. x. 4 ; Rev. xxii. 17, and vii. 17. I cannot 
at present enter upon a critical examination of these several 
portions of Scripture without prolonging this discussion to a 
greater extent than I wish. On John iv. 10, 14, and vii. 37, 38, 
39, Tittmann's Commentary may be consulted with profit. Tho- 
luck says of the latter passage that, under the water which is to 
be communicated by the Redeemer, and which is to become in 
man a fount^n of life, Christ meant nothing else than the quicken- 
ing energies of the Spirit of God. I am fully satisfied ttat Mr. 
W. has not brought forward any satisfactory evidence to in- 
validate my interpretation of the passage of Scripture under con- 
sideration. 

As water is significant of the quickening and purifying influences 
of the Spirit of God, no argument has yet been adduced to pre- 
vent us from regarding Tit. iii. 5 as a hendiadys, and as meaning 
regeneration. The language runs thus, Sta Xovrpov^ by the 

washing. 



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1849.] Miscellanea, 131) 

washing, the word Xoc/rf ov signifying the fluid, or the Teasel that 
contains it : TraXtyyevs^iaf that has regard to regeneration, or that is 
symbolical of regeneration, even the renewing of the Holy Ghost ; 
tne phrase following the copulative being explanatory of the one 
that precedes it. In concluding this article I should like to call 
the attention of Mr. Walker, as well as the readers of yoar 
Journal, to a few of the mistakes which, I think, this gentleman 
has made in his observations on 1 John v. 6-11. 

The great work of our Lord, he observes, comprehends two 
parts — the putting away the filth of our evil nature, and the for- 
giveness of sin. Now, in all seriousness, I would ask this writer 
is this all that he thinks the work of the Saviour comprehends ? No 
ancient type, he thinks, was adequate to express the communica- 
tion of a new nature, nor could any of the washings carry the 
thoughts beyond the getting rid of external defilement; and, 
again, he says the work of the Spirit was typified by oil. I cannot 
see, for my part, how these several statements can be reconciled 
with each other. In another place this writer observes that my 
exposition of John iii. 5 obli^ us to understand water as de* 
scriptive of the regenerating vu-tue of the Spirit, rather than of the 
means by which the new nature is obtained, viz., dying and rising 
again with Christ, from which the Quickening operation of the 
Holy Spirit is to be distinguished ; tne latter bemg in ie^i the 
result of the former. I do not know the meaning of the latter 

Sart of this sentence, perhaps the writer may design to teach the 
octrine of baptismal regeneration. It was reserved, he thinks, 
for the ordinance of baptism, to present to the senses a complete 
idea of death and resurrection, by the burial of the person in the 
waters, and his rising again ; and the thing signified was, for the 
first time, associated with a siffu perfectly adequate to set it forth 
(Col. ii. 12 ; Rom. vi. 1-10 ; Matt, xxviu. 19). In these observa- 
tions Mr. Walker has completely misrepresented the symbolical 
character of baptism. The texts which he cites have no more to 
do with a burial of the person baptized in water and his rising 
again, than they have to do with the doctrine of justification by 
the imputed righteousness of Christ. It is nowhere taught in the 
Bible that the emblematical sisnificancy of baptism consists in im- 
mersion and rising again. The Rev. Peter Meams has well 
explained Col. ii. 12 in the last number of the Journal, and 
Rom. vi. 1-10 ought to be expounded on the same principle. 
All explanations of the emblematic nature of baptism by immer- 
sion in water and rising again completely fail m ^ving a true 
representation of that ordinance. 



ON 



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140 Miscellanea. [July» 

ON " THE SECOND SABBATH AFTER THE FIRST/' 

By J. VON GUMPACH. 



"Ef iKtlv^ r$ Kcup^ iTQp€^0ri 6 *lfi<rovs tms aJ^fiaffi Zih, rav trwoplfiMy' ol B^ funBitrajL 
adrov itrwivcurap ica2 ^p^mrro r(KKHy arrdxpas irai 4&^€iy. — Matt. xii. 1. 

Kal ^4vero Tci(fBarop€6t«r$eu a&ror hf rtSs &d0fiwn Sia r&i^ ttiroplftmy k. t. A.-— 
Mark ii. 23. 

EYcvfTo h\ kv crafifldrqt Bevrtpowp^tf Biairop^iutcrBai airrby Biii r&v airoplfiup k, t. A. 
— Luke vi. 1. 

It not unfrequently occurs in the three first Gospels that the 
sacred writers differ from eaxsh other as to the more or less concise 
terms which they indmdually employ to express the same commoa 
import ; and that the one particularises what is stated by the two 
others in a more general manner^ — a variance of wbtdi the passaiges 
submitted to the attention of our readers furnish a striking illus- 
trati<m. Whilst both St Matthew and St Mark relate Ae 
incident mentioned to have taken place ©n one of those SaWbatii 
days cm which at that time our Loni^ accompanied by his disciples, 
used to take a walk liiarough the corn-fields, St. Luke states it to 
have happened In <raj8j8arw divrspoTrpclfru, The meaning of this, 
evidently a techaieal term, which occurs in no other place, has 
from the days of the early Fatliers becn'subject to various inter- 
pretations ; numerous conjectures having been formed in regard 
to it, some of them remarkable for their peculiarity^ none, how- 
ever, for either a rational or a plaumble character. The only 
point upon wMch the majority of, if not all, critics are agreed, is, 
that the Greek word l^vr^pmpcuroi conveys generally the sense of 
''the first in reference to a second.' In conformity with this 
opinion, Scaliger {Emend, temp, p. 557) asserted our cafi^rw 
isvrspovpe»fro$ to be the first sabbath reckoned from the seeond 
day in Passover (i13lfi^ AnttSD, Levit xxiai. 11) ; and Lightfoot 
(ad Matth. xii. 2) having adopted the same view, it derircd much 
additional strength from his authority, and has since maintained 
itself, almost to the exclusion of every other hypothesis. By Van 
Til and Wetstein the oi^^xrov itvrepofrpojroif was assumed to fee 
the first sabbatth of the second month (Ijar) ; and by Capellus and 
Rhenfeld the first sabbath in the year from the date of its second 
epoch, the Jews commencing their ecclesiastical year with the 
month of Nisan, and their civil year with the month of Tidiri. 
Others have ascribed to our expression the meaning of the first of 
two succeeding sabbaths, or that of the first sabbath in the second 
year of the sabbatical cyclus. Others again have proposed still 
different interpretations. 

Whatever may be the relative merit of these various conjectures, 

they 



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1849.] Miscellanea. 141 

they are not only uoBupport^d by real argument, but, in our 
judgment, are moreover irreconcilable with the sacred text itself, 
inasmucli as they represent the Jewish year to include but one 
(ra/3/3. hvrep.y whilst the words of the Evangelists most clearly 
imply that those festival days were of at least not unfrequent 
occurrence. In the former case Sjt, Luke ought to, and undoubtedly 
would, have written cv rSf trafifidro) ievrspovpeir^. 

The reason why every attempt at a natural and satisfactory 
explanation of the sentence under consideration has hitherto furoved 
unsuccessful, would seem to us to be, that the term i^vrepoirpwrof 
has, a priori^ been taken to contain a chronological element, 
without any inquiry as to whether there be the very slightest 
ground for such an assumption. In our opinion there is not 
Supposing even the (ra/SjS. ^gvre^. might be shown to correspond, in 
our parlajace, to the first Sunday in a leap-year, or to the first or 
second Sunday after the Epiphany or after Trinity, what could 
possibly have been the object of the sacred writer in makinsr 
mention of such a circumstance ? The essential question was and 
is, whether the disciples of our Lord did transffress the law at all; 
not whether they did transgress it in a leap year or in a common year, 
or on a first or a sec<Hid Sunday after Trinity. That questiwi 
St. Luke negatives at the very outset of his narration ; and yet 
upon its silent affirmation theologians and commentators ever have 
insisted and still do insist. 

According, namely, to the Jewish law (Exod. xxi. 14 ; Midmay 
tr. Sahh. vii. 1 ; Sanhed. vii. 8, &c.), observed in all its rigour at 
the time of our Lord, the plucking and rubbing of ears of com on 
the Sabbath, both as being a preparation of food and an unnecessary 
exercise of the body, undoubtedly constituted an ofience punishable 
with death. But that the disciples had, at all events, not fas must 
be admitted by those who hold the (rififi. hursq. to be a Sabbath 
proper) rendered themselves culpable of so serious a transgression 
IS proved by the very nature of the charge brought against them, 
the Pharisees simply asking, * Why do ye that which it is notper- 
mitted to do on sabbath-days?' True, the Authorized Version 
renders the words o ovk %}^BffTi flrotsIV of the text, ^ that which it is 
not lawful to do^^ but erroneously so, as will become apparent when 
it is remembered that the lalmudic treatise on the Sabbath 
contains a long and tedious list of works prohibited and permitted 
to be done on that day, and to the latter class of which the subtle 
and casuistical question of the Pharisees evidently refers. If the 
occurrence had taken place on a sabbath proper, the transgression 
of the disciples could have admitted of no dount, and the Pharisees, 
having a legal accusation to prefer against them, would hardly, 
though met by the striking counter-question of our Lord, have 

evinced 



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142 MtMcellanea. [July, 

evinced a forbearance not only in dissonance with their public 
character, but, moreover, with their public duty. St Luke, there- 
fore, as already intimated, rebuts thev charge at once as a ground- 
less imputation, by premising that the dav of the incident was a 
sabbath of second rank, on which the law n*eely and positively did 
permit the censured act (Exod^ xii. 16 ; Miskna^ tr. Megilla, i. 8). 

Thus we take the simple meaning of adfi^arov hvrepowpojroy to 
be ^ a Sabbath of second rank,' in assigning to vpeiros the sense of 
* the highest or the best of its kind,' in which it occurs in numerous 
passages of the New Testament, and translating the words cysvsro 
de Iv oafifiircp hvrspoirpeuTCi) of St. Luke literally, * And it came to 
pass on a second-rate Sabbath,' or freely, ' And it came to pass on 
one of the minor hish-feastdays.' Such a day is by the Talmudists 
called 2119 D1\ and its observances differed but little from those 
of the Sabbath proper, excepting that on the former the preparation 
of every kind of food was permitted, and that it was altogether not 
quite so rigorously kept as the day of Jehovah (Jer. Gem. tr. 
Jevam, viii. 4). 

The correctness of our view in regard to this much-discussed 
passage, imparting, as it does, to the latter a clear and forcible 
motive, and placing the imputed transgression of the disdples in 
its true light, is, we venture to think, so striking in itself as to 
require no further proof. Still we may as well here adduce what 
litue evidence remains in support of our interpretation. The 
Pharisees asking the disciples, ' Why do ye that which it is not 
p^-mitted to do ev roTs adfifiacn ?' the use of the plural form of 
(TdEjS/S. in this connection seems to us to pointedly indicate tliat the 
Sabbath proper is not meant ; for if so, the Pharisees could not 
but have said sv ru txce/S/Sara;. St. Matthew certainly has Iv 
(safi^arcj) for sv ro7s- tri^fiaati but this construction, so far from 
impairing, tends materially to strengthen our argument, because 
<ra^/3aTov, without the demiite article being, in me days of our 
Lord, a common term for high-feastday and Sabbath (which may 
be satisfactorily proved from Josephus, Antiq, xvi. 6. 2), the use 
of the definite article, as a natural consequence, became indis- 
pensable whenever the Sabbath proper, as distinguished from a 
high-feast day, was to be expressed (comp. St. Luke vi. 7). St. 
Matthew, therefore, by evidently avoiding the definite article, 
shows that he was not speaking of the DSlV, In conclusion, we 
may add that also the general terms of the Gospel narratives are 
highly unfavourable to the supposition of the related occorrence 
having taken place on a Sabbath, inasmuch as on that day it was 
unlawful for the Jews to go beyond a Sabbath-day's journey 
(Acts i. 12), a short distance of between five-eighths ana three- 
fourths of an English mile (Joseph. Antiq. xx. 8. 6 ; Wars^ v. 

2. 



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1849.] Miseellottea. 143 

2. 3), from the coi^nes of their habitation or from the walls of 
Jerusalem {Gem. tr. Eruvin, iv. 42). 

Among the strongest proofs of the genuineness and authenticity 
of Ae saored writings of the New Testament are to be numbered 
the difficulties they present. In most cases, however, as in the 
present instance, those difficulties may be solved by viewing and 
attentively considering them in connection with the leading feature 
of the naiTative, of which they stand part, and by bringing to bear 
upon them a sufficient amount of that knowledge of the consti- 
tution at the period of Jewish life and society with which the 
Evangelists suppose their readers to be fiimiliar. Not imfre- 
quently, therefore, it may happen that the true import of some 
Scriptural passage appears to us obscure and difficult, merely 
because it was judged by the writer so sell-evident as to require 
no explanation. 



WHO THE SERPENT WAS THAT BEGUILED EVE. 
By the Rev. A. Gordon, M.A., Walsall. 

The common opinion in regard to the serpent in the temptation 
antecedent to the fall is, that Satan either assumed the likeness of 
a serpent, or employed as an instrument a real serpent in this 
melancholy afiair. The following are the words of Calvin, * Verum 
satis multa sunt Scripturae testimonia, quibus palam clareque 
asseritur os tantum Diaboli fuise serpentem ' — But there are suf- 
ficiently numerous proofs in Scripture in which it is obviously and 
plainly asserted that the serpent uhzs merely the mouthpiece of the 
devil. Our own Matthew Henry says, ' It uxls the devil in the 
likeness of a serpent. Whether it was only the visible shape and 
appearance of a serpent as some think those were of which toe read 
(Exod. vii. 12), or whether it was a real livim serpent actuated and 
possessed by the Devil is not certain; by Goas pei^mission it might 
be either.^ 

But such a yiew is to my mind beset with difficulties. We can 
hardly separate from such a transaction the idea of a miracle, and 
I do not believe that God would permit the devil to work a 
miracle for the purpose of deception. The lingual orsans of the 
serpent were altogether unfitted for the utterance of articulate 
sounds, and it could not it is certain have uttered the words 
imputed to it but by miracle. The case of Balaam's ass reproving 
the madness of Xhe prophet was a real miracle, and it was, as all 
real miracles have been, on the side of truth. 

But further, how came it about that the woman without any 
token of surprise enters into conversation with the serpent ? One 

would 



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144 Miscelkmea. [July, 

would think such a remarkable phenomenoo as the s^ent speak- 
ing would not only have awakened surprise, but suspicion also. Her 
mind was then untainted by sin, and 1 cannot but think it exceed- 
ingly strange she should have entered with perfect composure into 
conversation with a mere creature which she knew had neither 
naturally the power of speech nor the gift of reason, more espe- 
cially when it proceeded to interrogate her in reference to a divine 
command. 

The common view moreover can with difficulty be reconciled 
with all that is recorded in ver. 14 : ' And the Lord God said 
unto the serpent, Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed 
above all cattle, and above every beast of the field : upon thy belly 
shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life.' 
Can we conceive of the infinitely wise God thus addressing him- 
self to an irrational creature, and consequently an innocent one ? 
Besides, was the serpent present when thus spoken to, or was it 
summoned into the JDivine presence by miracle ? This too we 
cannot realize. How could that be denounced against the serpent 
as a punishment which was both its original and natural mode of 
locomotion ? We dismiss the opinion that the serpent ever moved 
in an upright attitude as absurd, and incompatible with its 
anatomical structure. 

The difficulty attending such questions, and other considera- 
tions, compel me to reject the common interpretation. But it 
may be asked, then, what would I substitute ? — Would I give to 
the whole history a rationalistic interpretation? Certainly not. 
There is in this portion of Scripture, as well as in some others, a 
middle course between the literal interpretation of our own pipus 
commentators, and the more lax views of the German school. 
That prince of expositors, Calvin, has furnished in my view, in the 
following passage, a key to the correct explanation of the whole 
narrative. ' Diximus alibi Mosis crasso rudique stylo accommodare 
ad popularem captum quae tradit.' A mode of instruction is no 
doubt employed to suit the popular mind, in the then incipient 
stages of civilization. I would therefore understand the entire 
narrative as a highly figurative representation adapted to popular 
apprehension, makiDg known the melancholy truth, that man had 
disobeyed a positive precept of his Maker, and thereby involved 
himself and his posterity in guilt and ruin. The devil was no 
doubt the prime agent in the temptation, the craft and subtlety of 
whom is fitly symbolized by the serpent. I do not see jany diffi- 
culty in literally understanding that part of the history which 
intimates that the act of disobedience consisted in eating the fruit 
of a forbidden tree. Should we regard this too as figurative, it at 
least conveys the idea that the oflence consisted in the infraction 

of 



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1^49.] Miscellanea. 145 

of a positiye precept, the very character of which left such viola- 
tion without excuse. With regard to what is narrated (ii. 14), 
concerning the sentence passed upon the serpent, I consider the 
language as teaching, in a highly figurative or symbolical manner, 
that God pronounced a righteous sentence on the devil, the author 
of the temptation, and that what God said concerning the serpent 
is presented to us as if he spoke to it directly for the purpose of 
making a deeper impression on the mind of the reader. Should 
we, moreover, suppose that Moses, under the guidance of the 
Divine Spirit, copied this part of his narrative from some ancient 
records in existence at the time he wrote, it gives additional pro- 
bability to the view I have taken, which I cannot but think serves 
greatly to remove from the passage the mythical appearance which 
surrounds it, and renders its meaning much more simple and 
easy. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



THEOLOGICAL EDUCATION IN THE UNITED STATES. 

By Professor Edwards,* Theological Seminary, Andover, U.S. 

My dear Sir, — I venture to send you a short paper on our Theolo- 
gical Seminaries for insertion in your esculent Journal.. Should you 
find it useful, it may not be wholly inappropriate. I have written iu 
some haste so as to be in season for the steamer. I am much inte- 
rested in your valuable Journal, and earnestly hope that you will find 
a more and more discerning and appreciating public. 

Your fellow-labourer, very faithfully and fraternally, 

B. B. Edwards. 

The study of Hebrew and of other Oriental languages in the United 
States is confined, for the most part, to the members of the theolo^cal 
seminaries, and to those who have been educated in these institutions. 
A brief statement in regard to the present condition, course of study, 
i&c, of the principal seminaries may not be unacceptable to the readers 
of the Journal of Sacred Literature. It may be proper to mention 
that the number of inhabitants in this country is now not far from 
twenty millions, spread over thirty states and three or four territories. 
The country, not including the late acquisitions, California, Oregon, 
New Mexico, &c., extends about 3000 miles from east to west, and 
1800 from north to south. These facts are mentioned so as to account 
for the great number of educational institutions established among us. 
A main argument, however, in favour of their multiplication is re- 

» Editor of the Bibliotheca Sacra. 
VOL. IV. — NO. VII. L movec^ 



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146 Correspcftdenee. [July, 

moved by the facilities for intercommunication through railways* The 
principal denominations of Christians in the United States are as 
follows : — Presbyterians, Old School 2400 churches, New School 1700 
churches ; Wesleyan Methodists, 5000 ministers ; Regular or Calvin- 
istic Baptists, about 7900 churches ; Orthodox Congregationalists, 
1750 churches; Roman Catholics, 900 churches; Protestant Epis- 
copalians, 1300 churches. There are, besides, many small sects, ^.^. 
Dutch Reformed, 276 churches ; Evangelical Lutheran, 800 clergy- 
men, rapidly increasing ; several sects of Baptists, Presbyterians, &c. 

The whole number of theological schools is forty-one. Of these four 
are patronized exclusively, or nearly so, by the Orthodox Congrega^ 
tionalists ; four or five by the New School Presbyterians ; five or 
six by the Old School Presbyterians ; three by the Protestant Episco- 
palians ; ten by the Baptists, and one by the Methodists. The last- 
named denomination have but recently begun to educate their ministry 
at regularly established seminaries. It should be stated that, in one of 
the Presbyterian seminaries — the Union Seminary, in the city of New 
York, of which Dr. Robinson is one of the professors — many congre- 
gational students acquire their education. Six or eight of these 
seminaries have a connexion more or less intimate with the colleges 
established in their respective localities. The others are entirely inde- 
pendent institutions. The whole number of students or under- 
graduates now belonging to these forty-one seminaries is about 1300. 
The largest number is found at the Princeton seminary, Old School 
Presbyterians, viz. 150; at the Union seminary, 91 ; at Andover, 90. 
The number at the other institutions varies from 4 to 64. Tha 
course of study in nearly all occupies three years ; the young student 
is fitted for college in the elements of Latin, Greek, mathematics, &c., 
in schools, called academies, classical schools, Latin schools, &c^ in 
two or three years. He then repairs to one *of the colleges, of which 
we have from 100 to 120, where he occupies four years in the study 
of the sciences, languages, &c. He then enters upon his strictly pro- 
fessional course at the law, medical, or theological school. Thus the 
time spent in study before one enters on the active duties of life is 
nine or ten years. 

The course of study at most of the tjieological schools is substantially 
the same ; the whole or the greater part of the first year (junior 
year) being occupied with the exegetical study of the Old and New 
Testaments in the originals; the second, or middle year, in natural 
and Christian theology ; and the last, or senior year, in ecclesiastical 
history and sacred rhetoric; the composition and delivery of sermons, 
&c. In some institutions exegetical study is pursued more or less 
throughout the three years ; a small portion of the first year being 
devoted to natural theology. In the seminaries attached to some erf" 
the denominations, church government occupies a somewhat prominent 
place. In all, or nearly all, tlve schools, the studies are exclusively 
professional, there being not more than two or three institutions of a 
mixed character, like the dissenting academies in England. The mem- 
bers of the senior class are allowed to preach during the whole or 

the 



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1849.] Correspondence. 147 

the greater part of the year, being licensed for that purpose by the 
Association, Presbytery, &c. The members of Baptist seminaries are 
accustomed to preach during the entire course. 

I will subjoin some particular statements in regard to the Andover 
Theological Seminary, as I am more conversant with its history and 
condition. It is the oldest of the theological seminaries iu this country, 
having been founded in 1 807. It is situated in the state of Massa- 
chusetts, twenty miles north of Boston. It is liberally endowed by 
several distinguished Christian merchants and others in the vicinity, 
who gave several hundred thousand dollars for the purpose of estab- 
lishing four foundations for professorships, for erecting three seminary 
buildings of brick four stories in height, for providing a fund for 
paying the board of the student in part, for building dwelling-houses 
for the professors, for establishing a library, &c. The most dis- 
tinguished of 'these bene^tors was William Bartlet, Esq., who may be 
truly regarded as one of the bene&ctors of bis race. About one thousand 
students have completed their course at this Institution, and about five 
hundred additional have been members of it for longer or shorter times ; 
not far from one hundred of ^these are labouring or have laboured .as 
missionaries in heathen lands. The institution is equidly open to 
Protestants of all denominations. The Professors — ^now four in num- 
ber — must be Gongregationalists or Presbyterians ; with two or tliiee 
exceptions they have been CongregationaMsts. A printing-press,, 
furnished with types in most of the Oriental languages, has been in 
operation near the seminary for many years. The academical year is 
divided into two sessions of six and three months, separated by vaca- 
tions of -five and seven weeks. During the first term of ux months, 
the junior class pursue the exegetical study of the four- Gospels in Dr. 
Robinson's Harmony ; mostly by verbal recitations, but partly by 
lectures from the professors on the more difficult topics. Some atten- 
tion is also given to Biblical geography and antiquities. Each -student 
is required to read one or more dissertations on prescribed topics ; there 
are also extemporaneous discussions oocasionally. Simultaneously the 
class pursue the elementary study of Hebrew. During the last month 
of the term the easier portions of the Hebrew Bible are read and in- 
terpreted. In the summer term of three jnonths one or two of St. 
Paul's Epistles, the more dilEcult portions of the Hebrew Prophets, of 
Job, the Messianic Psalms, &c., are studied. At the close of the two 
terms a public exanunation is held, which is attended by Committees 
of the G uacdians of the seminary. Voluntary classes are formed among 
the students for the study of Ghaldee, Arabic, &c. Many of the 
students are able to avail themselves of the German helps which aie 
now so bountifully -provided. Throughout the middle year the study 
of systematic theology is pursued, mainly by lectuxes fiom the vppo- 
fessor ; the students taking vcopious notes, being subsequently examined 
upon them. Extemporaneous discussions are also held on some of the 
more difficult points ; mental and moral philosophy in its bearings on 
theology is also taken up. In the senior year a course of lectures in 
pastoral theology is delivered ; church history is studied both by 

X 2 lectures . 



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148 Correspondence, [July, 

lectures and recitations. The text-book hereafter is to be Davidson's 
translation of Gieseler ; in sacred rhetoric^ Campbeirs ' Philosophy of 
Rhetoric ' and Whately's * Rhetoric ' are studied. Great attention is 
bestowed on the preparation and criticism of plans of sermons ; each 
student is required to present for criticism four sermons, at least, 
written out in full. The public speaking of original essays, by the 
students in rotation, is attended by all the classes once a week ; an 
assistant teaclier in elocution and another in Hebrew are employed. 



ON THE MIRACLE OF JOSHUA. 

Sib, — ^Being utterly unknown to you, I have felt much hesitation in 
making up my mind to send you the following remarks in reply to 
Mr. von Gumpach's dissertation in your fifth numbe* ' On the Miracle 
of Joshua.' I choose rather to incur the risk of being* considered 
intrusive, than that the opinions advanced in that article should remain 
unquestioned. 

Its reasoning is of three kinds, arranged chiefly in the following 
order. There is, 1. A principle laid down a priori^ respecting ' the 
necessary qualification of a miracle,' fitted to create the wish that 
the miracle related in the 10th chapter of Joshua had not been re- 
lated there at all. There are, 2. Arguments intended to show, that 
tlie supposition of a real miracle would render the narrative incon- 
sistent with itself. There are, 3. Critical and exegetical remarks in 
favour of a proposed new translation and interpretation of the passage. 
It is perhaps not unnecessary to observe, that the above arrangement 
of arguments does not seem to be favourable to an inntpartial inves-. 
tigation of the truth. It does not appear to be in general a safe 
method of interpreting even uninspired writings, to commence by an 
attempt to determine, on a priori grounds, what the writer ought, or 
what he was likely to say ; fiir less is this admissible in the study of 
the Holy Scriptures. It is a sound principle of inductive philosophy, 
that we must base our theories on previously ascertained facts, instead 
of attempting to square facts into accordance with pre-conceived 
theories. Now the words of Scripture in their unforced grammatical 
weaning are the facts of the Bible interpreter, to which all pre- con- 
ceptions must give way. The writer of the article does indeed limit 
the application of his own a priori principle to cases of doubtful inter- 
pretation ; but it is not clear th^t the interpretation of the present 
passage would ever have been considered doubtful, but for the previous 
(and perhaps unconscious) application to it of the principle in question. 

Under shelter of this protest, let us proceed to consider the most 
important arguments, in the order nearly in which they have been 
advanced. 

I. We must altogether demur to the assertion, that ^ the necessary 
qualification of a mii'acle is its answering some grand, lasting, and 
ostensible purpose,' if by this be meant that every miracle which God 
enables His servants to perform must have an ostensible purpose, of 

\yhich 



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1849.] - Correspondence, 149 

IV inch the grandeur aiid duration shall be apparent to us. Tried b^ 
this rule, not a few even of our Saviour's miracles would become 
incredible. We are no competent judges in the matter. The incom- 
prehensible One, whose counsels embrace eternal ages, and whose 
works, for aught we know, are linked into one connected system 
through infinite space, may have more and greater purposes to answer 
l)y a single miracle, than he may see fit to reveal to us, or ^ than are 
dreamt of in our philosophy.' "What though the ostensible purpot»e of 
the miraculous prolongation of the light of day, in answer to Joshua's 
prayer, may have been nothing more important in our eyes than to 
enable the Israelites to complete their victory over their Amoritish 
foes ; ther^ may have d^)ended on that day's victory, in a greater 
degree than we are now in a condition clearly to perceive, the ultimate 
c(mquest of the Land of Promise, the settlement of the chosen people 
therein, and their consequent isolation from the world for the purposes of 
the theocracy, until the fulness of the time when the Son of God should 
become flesh ; and were we able to trace its consequences in their suc- 
<;essive development and in their full extent, we might possibly find 
that it possessed all the grandeur of an essential step in the progress of 
the kingdom of God on earth, and that its results are to have a duration 
commensurate with eternity. Or (if additional suppositions be need- 
ful), God may have seen that the Israelites were in danger of attributing 
their victory to their own prowess, or to the happy accident of a storm 
of hail, and may have purposed to convince them that the honour of 
the work was His : or perhaps He designed, by the manisfestation of 
His glory in the heathen's sight, to demonstrate to some even of them 
the folly of their idolatry, so as to lead them to • take hold of His 
covenant;* and in either view, were the issue but the everlasting salva- 
tion of a single soul, who can estimate the magnitude or the duration of 
that result? Conjectural possibilities' are endless; and how then can 
WE, ignorant and short-sighted as we are, be entitled to determine that 
the occasion was an unfitting one for the exercise of the mighty power 
of God ? Nay, suppose we were unable to assign any probable reason 
whatsoever worthy of the divine wisdom, what then ? Are we to deny 
the reality of the miracle ? To do so, would be as if some theorist 
should argue, that because no use has yet been discovered for the spleen, 
it would be derogatory to the wisdom of God to suppose that he had 
really created it, and that all the anatomists from the beginning of the 
world till now must have been mistaken in thinking they had found it 
in the human body at all. Enough for us, if God has clearly revealed 
all that is necessary for our salvation ; we may surely be contented to 
allow that He may have done many things of which he has not seen it 
meet to tell us all the reasons ; humbly trusting that if we be willing to 
submit to the truth, 'what we know not now, we shall know here- 
after.' 

II. It will be unnecessary to dwell at equal length on the several 
arguments which have been adduced to show that the supposition of an 
actual miracle would render the Bible narrative inconsistent with itself. 

1. We cannot see that Joshua's prayer for the miraculous staying of 

the 



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150 Correspondence. , [July, 

^the sun and moon was at all inconsistent with the most assured fiuth in 
the divine promise of victory which he bad previously received ; any 
more than Paul is to be regarded as lacking in faith, when, after liaving 
first stated that God had promised him the life of all who were with him 
in the ship, he subsequently declared that the abiding of the mariners on 
board was the necessary means in order to that result, and that other- 
wise the passengers could not be saved. Shall we not on the contrary- 
say, that Joshua, seeing wilh a general's eye and a divinely enlightened 
mind that a prolongation of day was necessary in order to the utter 
scattering of the hostile forces, found in the promise he had received 
his very warrant believingly to ask that miracle from God P 

2. ^ The fighting of the Lord for Israel ' appears to«us to be an 
expression quite as applicable to the miraculous staying of the sun in^ 
bis course, as- to the destructive storm of hail. 

d. The statement that ' the presumed miracle rests upon an erroneous- 
view of the mighty mechanism of ' God's creation,' is an old objection, 
which was long ago repudiated by Sir Isaac Newton. I r^ret that, 
not having the Principia at present beside me,. I am obliged to 
quote firom memory. Treating of Real and Apparent Motions, he says- 
(if I remember well) in substance, that they err who suppose that the 
sacred writers should have framed their language in accordance with 
the real motions of the heavenly bodies^, and not according to those- 
apparent motions .which alone men understood. How utterly unin- 
telligible would Joshua's language have been until a few centuries ago,, 
bad he commanded the earth to pause in its rotation ! He desired the 
continuance of the sun and moon in those spots of the firmament where 
they then were : neither Israel ner he himself, as I suppose, knew how this- 
was to be accomplished ; enough for them that God heard the request, and 
that accomplished it was. But should it be objected, that nothing but 
ignorance of the sti;4pendous magnitude of the supposed miracle could 
luwe permitted the belief that it had really happened, we may call 
attention to the remarkable circumstance, that the narrative represents 
Joshua as commanding not the sun only, which would have been suffi- 
cient for his purpose, but the moon also, to stand still ; a fact not easily 
explicable save on one of two suppositions: either that the ancient 
Israelites believed that the whole vault of heaven revolved round the- 
earth, carrying the sun and moon along with it, so that if one of these 
bodies was to be stopped, the other must necessarily be stopped at the 
same moment, — a miracle this, that must have appeared to them at least: 
as stupendous as a pause in the rotation of the earth ; or that Joshua's 
words, and the historian s record, were both framed by divine inspiration- 
to accord with that .very character which, by the constitution of the 
solar system, though unknown to them,, the miracle must necessarily 
present. Objectors may be allowed to choose which term of this dilemma 
they like. 

4. The negative objection, drawn from the want of express references 
to this miracle in the later portions of Scripture, cannot prove, in oppo- 
sition, to the obvious meaning of this narrative, that it is not recorded 
here.. 

in.. 



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1849.] Cori'espondence. 151 

III. We might now have permission to stop, for there are no other 
positive arguments adduced against the established interju'etation of 
the passage. The remainder of the article under consideration is 
simply an attempt to show that ' the sacred text will bear such a con- 
struction as to admit of a natural solution ' of the miraculous narra- 
tive and of its supposed difficulties. Now really, were this possible — 
could it be evinced that a passive, which has been all along considered 
as narrating in the clearest terms a miracle of the most stupendous 
nature, was in point of fact so ambiguous that it could with equal pro- 
priety be understood in such a sense as that it should narrate nothing 
of the kind, our faith in the sincerity of Scripture language would be 
overthrown, 4Lnd we should renounce in despair the idea of being able 
to discover with certainty the meaning of the plainest portion of the 
word of God. But we are not reduced to such a necessity ; we cannot 
admit that even the possibility of a new interpretation has been 
evinced ; on the contrary, we are satisfied, and will attempt to show, 
that the proposed rendering is utterly inadmissible. 

The principal grounds on which it rests are the following ; — 1. That 
the words in Josh. x. 12, translated ^ then spake Joshua unto the Lord,' 
will admit also of being rendered ^ because Joshua had spoken to the 
Lord,' and may accordingly be understood of a prayer for divine as- 
sistance previously uttered by him, and already answered in the form 
of a destructive storm of hail, and which need not be considered to 
have any reference to the subsequent narrative respecting the sun and 
moon at all. In the absence of cmy proof of this alleged use of the 
particle tM (for the reference to Jer. xxii. 15 must surely be a lapsus 
calami), we make bold to affirm that if tM be ever a conjunction 
meaning because (of which we remember no instance, and greatly 
doubt), at all events when followed by a future tense with a past sig- 
nification, it never is so, and cannot give the verb a pluperfect force, 
but is always an adverb meaning tkeuy in the sense of thereupoHy there- 
after. Not to interrupt the argument, we throw the proof of our 
assertion into an appended note, and proceed to draw the conclusion 
that the-ofi/y grammatical rendering of the phrase '^^1 ^*]^ tK is that 
of the Authorized Version, the very opposite, in so far, of the pro- 
posed new one ; and that Joshua's prayer, here recorded, had reference 
therefore to the staying of the sun and moon, and, as far as we know, 
to that alone. The transposition of the following words, < and he said 
in the sight of Israel,' into the form 'but in the sight of Israel he 
said,' which was found necessary in the proposed new translation in 
order to disconnect the subsequent miracle from the preceding prayer, 
is unwarranted and inadmissible. 

2. It is argued that Joshua's command to the heavenly bodies to 
stand still, may be viewed as nothing more than the poetical dress given 
in the book of Jasher to the concluding words of an harangue, supposed 
to have been delivered by the general to his soldiers before the com- 
mencement of the battle, to the efiect that the sun, now standing above 
their heads, should not begin to move downwards in the sky, nor the 
moon, now resting over the valley of Ajalon, have visibly shifted its 

place 



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152 Correspondence, [July, 

place in the heavens, ere the victory should be gained. And in sup- 
port of this gloss a Talmudical notion is quot^, that the sun does 
actually remain stationary in mid-heaven every day for an hour at 
noon. Now without waiting to enlarge on the obvious remark, that 
the staying of the moon is left wholly unaccounted for in this quota- 
tion, we must, in the. first place, protest in the strongest manner 
i^inst the attribution to the venerable personages of Old Testament 
history of the modern absurdities of the Talmud. We observe, 
secondly^ that while poetry does undoubtedly admit of sublime apos- 
trophes and daring images, that author whose images should for 3000 
years remain so unintelligible as to be mistaken for narratives of real 
facts, would not be entitled to the name of a poet, but of an inflated 
utterer of wild bombast. Thirdly ^ we remark, that the prose writer 
who in quoting a bold poetical image should do so in such a manner, 
and should so interweave it with his narrative,, as that every plain 
person should understand him to*be relating s^ real ev^nt, would be 
guilty of a more inconceivable absurdity still, if not of a more shame- 
ful deception. And, fourthly, granting that it was merely * until the 
people should avenge themselves on their enemies ' that Joshua called 
on the sun and moon to stand still, we cannot see how this interferes 
with the established interpretation at all — it is evidently the very 
thing understood by every ordinary reader as Joshua's motive for the 
miracle performed. 

3. It is asserted, lastly, that it is not absolutely necessary to trans- 
late the words D^DFI DV|), as in our version, ' ci}out a whole day ;' 
but that they may be made to accord with the naturalistic view of the 
passage by rendering them ^it seemed a whole day.' Now, not to 
speak of the curious psychological phenomenon of one short hour 
seeming to soldiers in the heat of battle as long^ as a whole day, 
we remark that the expression ^it seemed^ conveys a great deal 
more meaning than is at all admissible as a literal rendering of the 
little particle ^. It is not a translation, but a comment ; and the in- 
terpretation that cannot stand without its aid is self-condemned. It 
wijl not be denied that the Authorized Version gives the natural and 
simple meaning of the phrase, according to the usage of the Hebrew 
tongue. 

On all these grounds I think (he writer o-f the article <m which I 
have commented Is mistaken in the view he has expressed of this 
celebrated passage. I have perhaps to apologize to him for- the con- 
troversial tone of what I have written ; but as I had nothing new to 
advance on the subject, and my only purpose has been, to defend the 
established interpretation against the arguments which he has em- 
ployed to overthrow it, I do not know that I could have written other- 
wise. If, however, an apology be needed, let it be this — that the 
principle involved in his arguments is capable of a much wider ap- 
plication, and if once admitted may, and in consistency must, be 
extended to many of the other miracles recorded in the word of God, 
perhaps even to most of them, if not to all. The interests at stake 
are too momentous to be left thus at the mercy of an erroneous prini* 

ciple. 



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1849.] Correqxmdence. 153 

ciple. May I not then be pardoned for endeavouring to prove its 
erroneousness, in accordance with the maxim obsta principiis f 

Note referred to in p. 151.— I need hardly remind the Hebrew scholar that the 
real sense of the word TK is then, like which English adverb it is used in more than 
one shade of meaning. 1. It is fundamentally a simple adverb of time, correspond- 
ing exactly with the use of the Latin tunc, at that time, then, a force which it 
generally has when joined to a verb — in whatever tenae— provided that tense re- 
tains its own proper import, or to a clause which has no verb at all. See it thus 
used with the pret. in Gen. iv. 26 ; Exod. iv. 25; Mai. iii. 16 ; Jer. xxii. 15 : with 
the future (retaining its future signification) in Deut. xxix. 19 ; Ps.ii. 5 ; xcvi. 12: 
and without a verb in Gen. xii. 6 ; Josh. xiv. 11. There are some instances in the 
later Hebrew (which was much influenced by the Aramaic dialects) where it seems 
with the preterite tense to receive a shade of meaning approximating to the second 
use^ which I now proceed to mention. 2. TK occurs often in historical narrative 
before a future verb, which in such circumstances it converts into past time. Whence 
this strange idiom ? The notion that the Hebrew tenses might be interchanged 
almost at random has been long exploded. Jn every instance which I have noticed 
of this remarkable construction, I feel the utmost confidence in stating my opinion 
that the particle corresponds exactly with the Latin deinde, in English to be gene- 
rally translated then, but with the particular shade of meaning of thereupon^ im" 
mediately thereafter. It resembles the conversive |, causing the future tense to 
express successive, consecutive, or progressive action. See, for example, Elxod. xv, 
1 (comp. Judg. V. 1); Num. xxi. 17; Deut. iv. 41 ; 1 Kin^ iii. 16 j ix. 11 ; xvi. 
21. It may be better not to mix up speculation with this induction of instances ; 
but I may perhaps be allowed to say that the rationale of this peculiar idiom is 
probably to be found in the consideration that at any particular moment in pro- 
gressive history, indicated by the particle TK, the event next to be related, and in- 
troduced by that particle, is future to that which immediately preceded it. tK, in 
this construction, like }, indicates the flowing of past time into the future. This 
might be indicated by a periphrasis thus: e.g. Deut iv. 41, *Then Moses (pro- 
ceeded to) set apart three cities ;' or in the passage under discussion, * Then Joshua 
spake (proceeded to speak) unto the Lord.' Of course the idea of pluperfect time 
is. altogether excluded. I must again question the accuracy of the statement, that 
X^ is ever a conjunction meaning because. 

William Taylor. 
Pulteneytowny Wick, N. B. 



To the Editor of the Journal of Sacred Literature, 

Dear Sir, — You are aware of solemn reasons which might be 
pleaded with justice as dissuading me from taking any notice of a reply, 
inserted in your last Number, to a short critique I wrote on a book 
reviewed at your own request. My state of mind at the present time 
you know to be peculiarly averse to the sort of writing to which the 
reply in question boldly challenges me. But I have brought myself to 
the unwelcome task of saying a few ' words on the subject ; and with 
these I shall be content. I could write a long paper ; but what would 
be the -use of it?. 

The short critique I was asked to write on a book entitled * Prin- 
ciples of Textual Criticism/ I penned deliberately and calmly. I gave 
as favourable a judgment of it as I could consistently with my honest 
conviction. I nmde praise and blame a matter of conscience, accord- 
ing 



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154 Correspondence, [July, 

ing to an iDvariable rule. I did not wish to mislead thiB public, or to 
comproHuse my own literary character ; while I wanted to allow as 
much merit to the work as I could. All this, however, is far from 
pleasing the writer of it. Htnc ilia lachryma ! 

I said, for instance, " Perhaps the writer does not know German," 
when I had no doubt of its being the fiict, from internal evidence fur- 
nished by the work itself. Nor is there any scholar who, after reading 
it through, would hesitate to say the same thing ; and that, too, sifter 
the information — " I have read in that language (German) several of 
the works mentioned in the review, and some others not there enume- 
rated, though I have not thought it proper to parade before my readers 
a number of names of writers whom few among them ever would have 
an opportunity of consulting." Shrewd critics will prefer to believe 
the evidence contained in a man's book rather than his after affirma- 
tions written to serve a purpose. And there are some who " read in 
the German language" what they do not understand. There are those 
who read books in that tongue who yet do not know it, and give no 
higher evidence of their acquaintance with it than JEickhom and Kri- 
tiken und Studien herausgeben. I fancy that it is beyond the ability 
even of this wonderful (in his own eyes) writer to parade a thing of 
which he is profoundly ignorant. Hence he has not even mentioned, 
much less paraded^ that which he ought to have known. 

I said also, that " I praised the author for his laudable attempt,'* 
when I believed that he had attempted that for which ha was badly 
qualified. I said, " He possesses creditable learning and respectable 
ability ;" forbearing to state, what I fully believe, that he does not 
deserve the name of scholar; and that his remarks on 1 Tim. iii. 16, 
are a model of bad reasoning, as a learned friend lias expressed it. 
Ferliaps, however, we should not expect fair reasoning on that passage 
from an Arian teacher. 

In proof of my general remarks on the character of the book re- 
viewed, I gave what I considered a sufficient number of examples, 
when I might have given a great many more. For this forbearance, 
however, the following piece of gratitude is presented : — " Dr. David- 
son has not been extremely successfiil in his search after the mistakes 
which indubitably my book contains." But I did not search after 
mistakes at all ; they abound in every page ; the book sccUet erroribusy 
as the old authors used to say. No scholar has anything more to do 
than to turn over the pages, running his eyes hastily over them. This 
is what I did when requested by a literary friend in England to send 
him a number of mistakes which he thought I must have easily de- 
tected. I did send him a goodly list ; and it will doubtless appear in 
public not many days hence. Yet that entire list is quite different 
from the examples given by rae in your Journal. 

Again, I must say, that a sadder exhibition of dishonest quibbling 
than the following I do not remember to have seen : — 

' Dr. Davidson has enumerated among mv mistakes some opinions which I have 
expressed ou points of criticism different from his own views ; such as the anti* 
qoity of the Targums, the number of persons engaged in translating the Peshito 

version, 



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1849.] Correspondence: 155 

Tenion, ibe identity of the Nazarene Gospel, translated by Jerome firom the 
Hebrew, with the Hebrew original of our canonical Gospel by St Matthew ; and 
other matters of a similar nature. He seems to think I must be wrong because I 
differ from him, or rather from certain German writers whose views ne himself 
adopts. I cannot see the force of ibis inference, much less can I see that I am to 
be precluded from offering, in a proper and truly critical spirit, my own opinion, 
though different from his and theirs, upon these and similar points. I haye en- 
deaToured to qualify myself for forming an independent judgment on thdse <^ues- 
tions, and have taken a good deal of pains to form a correct one. Are British 
theolo^ans to withhold their sentiments in deference to Continental scholars who 
may be of a different way of thinking? Is no sound to be uttered or heard 
among us but the mere echo of Toices beyond the Rhine ? Are we to wait, before 
daring to express our thoughts, until permission to utter them shall hare arrived 
from Prussia or Saxony ? Are the Germans themselves perfectly of one mind on 
these and similar points ? I believe it would not be difficult to array in oppodtion 
to Dr. Davidson's chosen list of authorities another German legion, outnumbering 
those whom he has named, in the proportion of two to one on every question ; men 
too, whose literary qualification no one could affect to disregard. I am willing to 
avail myself of this difference of opinion among our proposed masters, as a warrant 
for exercising my own freedom^ of thought. Xet me see the Germans first united 
firmly among themselves in their critical judgments, it will then be time enough 
for me to think of suppressing my deliberately formed eentiments out of deference 
to-German theology/ 

The points of criticism Here alluded to are points on which the writer 
of ' Principles of Textual Criticism ' has expressed opinions that would 
disgrace any student in a German university who had attended the 
prelections of a theological professor for a single semester. Modem 
German writers are substantially agreed in their views respecting them. 
Our heroic champion^ however^ has qualified himself, it seems, for 
forming an* independent judgment on these questions, Le, for not having 
the views- held by the masters in a certain department of learning, 
because he is ignorant of the works of those masters. It will not do to 
blind your readers' eyes with such a question as, ' Are the Germans 
themselves perfectly of one mkid on these and similar points?' — for 
they are agreed in not holding the opinions advocated by this Irish 
writer. They are a little more carejnl of their reputation than that 
they shotdd iGNOBANTiiY bring it into contempt. • But he continues — 
*^I believe it would not be difficult to array, in opposition to Dr. 
Davidson's chosen list. of authorities, another German legion, outnum- 
bering those whom he has named, in the proportion of two to one on 
every question.' Yes, it would be difficult. It would be totally im- 
possible. There is not a scholar in England that could perform the 
task. It is utterly beyond the reach of man. I have, therefore, no 
he!«itation in saying that this language conveys a meaning as far from 
the truth as can be. 

Another paragraph strongly impregnated with disingenuousness is 
ttiis i— 

* Some things which Dr. Davidson has inserted in his list of my mistakes are 
mere omissions, unavoidable in a work which only professes to give in a moderate 
eompass.Me most important principles and the main facts of the science. Had I 
judged it proper to extend my limits, very many author^ theories, and criticisms 
would have been canvassed, which a regard to brevity has compelled me to exclude. 
Under these circumstances an omission is no mistake.* 

I wrote, 



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156 CorrespoJidence* [Jufyv 

I wrote, * The book errs much more by defect than by positive mis- 
takes. Important and interesting points which have l>een investigated 
not long since, are quietly passed by.' The most important principles 
and the main facts of the science are not given in the book review^. 
I repeat, that ^ important and interesting points are quietly passed by/ 
Under these circumstances an omission is a defect^ and this is what I 
said, not a mistake ; although I should have been nearly right had I 
even used the latter term. The defects in question betray culpably 
gross ignorance. It will not do to say that the limits of the book pre- 
vented touching on these things ; for there are many trifling, useless, 
egotistical remarks that might have been erased to make room for 
essSnticU matters. For example — 

* This edition (i.c. Scfaaaf' s of the Sjriac New Testament) is now exceedingly 
rare. I have inspected it in public libraries with reference to one or two passages, 
but I have never had it long enough in my possession to be able to speak very 
distinctly of its merits. In general it seems to agree with that of Gntbier.' 

The book is quite common. In the very town where the author 
lives he might have found it in the libraries of various private indi- 
viduals with whom he is acquainted. Any good London catalogue has 
a copy of it for sale. I suppose, however, that he could not omit saying 
that he never had it long enough in his possession to be able to speak 
very distinctly of its merits, because the remark belongs to the important 
principles or main facts of criticism. Again, on the very same page, 
' My copy has the date 1826 on the title-page ; but whether this be an 
error of the press, or whether the work has been reprinted, or whether 
the new date has only been affixed to a re-issue of copies remaining over 
from those printed in the former year, the person who sold it to me at 
the Society's Depository could not inform me.' Compare these inser- 
tions with the omission of the fact that Muralto's collation of the Codex 
Yat., published in 1846, is unnoticed i or the omission of Norzi's cri- 
tical edition of the Hebrew Bible. There is no doubt that the serious 
omissions to which I alluded in my critique arose from sheer ignorance. 
They did not arise from anxiety not to swell the size of the book. But 
the writer has not the candour to acknowledge his ignorance. He has 
too much straightforward hardihood for that. 

Respecting Home he says, ^ Of Mr. Home's work I have repeatedly 
spoken, and always with a degree of courtesy of which Dr. D., &c. &c.' 
Compare with this the following words : * The learned reader will smile 
on seeing, in some popular works on criticism, meation of an Estran- 
gelO' Syrian Version of the Scriptures T Is not this pointed at Home? 
Is it a specimen of courtesy f Courtesy with — a sneer. 

But the reviewer is charged with mistaking the sense of a passage in 
Augustine. T-lie undignified allusion to Professor Zumpt, of Berlin, I 
pass over. I can only say that all the attention I have been able to 
give to the passage, with its context, convinces me that Jerome meant 
what I attributed to him. I am not answerable for his Latin. The 
Latin of Jerome is njt the same as that of Cicero and Virgil. Profes- 
sor Zumpt's g^mmar was made for the latter, not the former. It is 
therefore quite aside from the mark to allude to Zumpt, or Madvig, or 

any 



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1849.] Correspondence. 157 

any other grammarian who constructs his grammar for classical Latin. 
The ecclesiastical Latin of the fourth and fifth centuries is sadly dc^- 
nerate as contrasted with that of the Augustan era. 

What, Mr. Editor, doyot^ think of the roan who says, *I gratefully 
own Griesbach and Hug as my masters in the Art of Criticism/ when 
he was at the time of writing, perhaps still is, ignorant of the last ediiian 
of Hug*s Introduction to the New Testament^ which, in comparison 
with the preceding, has been * verbessert und vermekrt durch Abande- 
rungen, Zusatze, und Citate des seligen Yerfassers.' What do you 
think of the man who was quite unacquainted with the last edition of 
De Wette's Introduction to the New Testament, and the same author's 
Introduction to the Old Testament (last edition), for which latter 
Theodore Parker's English translation of the former edition is used* 
And yet, if we are to believe himself, ' he availed himself of the latest 
and best investigations that had appeared.' Doubtless he did so ; but 
those counted the latest and the best are really old in the eye of the 
scholar. They are chiefly English. A few of them are Latin. As to 
German works, he had waited perhaps till the Germans had ag^reed 
araono^ themselves about points of criticism. But why did he not wait 
till the Germans writing Latin books on criticii»m had agreed among 
themselves? 

But I must now allude to the point on which this author puts forward 

his most vehement assertions. To my mind these assertions would have 

* commended themselves the more had their vehemence been less, because 

every one knows that truth needs not, and usually has not, the tone of 

over-confident asseveration. 

I said that the plan and purpose of the book I reviewed coincided 
with those of my Lectures on Biblical Criticism. I say so still. It 
is true they do not coincide wholly or in every parti but they agree in 
the main. In eome instances my plan has b^n altered for the better ; 
in others for the worse. How the writer could happen to put into his 
book the discussion of disputed passages without having followed me in 
this respect, none will be able to discover ; for I thought myself alone 
in that feature. 

It is needless to spend a word in showing that the purpose of his 
book is the same as mine. The titles of the two works evidence the 
fact. 

With regard to the charge of plagiarism, it is disavowed with great 
confidence. But there is evidence in the book to substantiate it to the 
satisfaction of any one accustomed to examine evidence. It is true 
that my words have been partially altered ; my sentences put in anotiier 
order. But even this has not wholly effaced the evidence. And there 
is a plagiarism of ideas as well as of words. I did not mean to say 
that the writer had copied verbatim ; few do thb for many sentences 
together: but I did and do mean to say, that he has copied, Plagiar" 
ism does not cease to be so because it is disguised. Statements made 
up out of others are plagiarized to all intents andpurposes. It is very 
likely that the writer had gone over my book so often, or had heard it 
gone over by students so much, as that he insensibly got into his head 

its 



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158 Correspondence. fJuIy, 

its statements and words ; whieh were subsequently transferred uncon- 
sciously to his own production. 

One or two examples must suffice at present. They are of a kind 
that shows designed coincidence. 

Work reviewed, 

Davidson. — ^< We here introdace the PiHiTEB. — ^^ The Samaritan Pentateueli 
Samaritan Pentatench though it is not a is not a versioD, but an edition of the 
version. It is the very same Law as that originalln the proper Hebrew language, 
contained in our Hebrew Bibles, written dialing from other Hebrew copies onl jr 
in a different character.' in the peculiar form of the letters id 

which it ia written.' 

I have often wondered why I inserted the almost puerile observation 
just quoted from the lectures. I must have been thinking of mere 
tyros. T should certainly never think of retaining it in another edition, 
because it is too trifling. Yet the very same remark, as will be seen, 
occurs in this new work. And there is something about it so peculiar, 
as to lead any one to the opinion that the coincidence could not be 
accidental. 

Davidson. — * Amid the immense Pobtkr. — * Dr. Kennicott has been 

mass of various readings which he blamed for brin^in^ forward such a 
(Kennicott) had collected with so great mass of trivial and unimportant readings 
labour, few were found to be of any as the notes to his Bible exhibit . . . bat 
value in the emendation of the text. these critics could only exhibit such 
The majority were at once seen to be readings as their materials afforded.'* 
the mere lapsus of transcribers. ^ For 
this he was unjustly censured as if he 

could have given more and better read- \ 

ings than those which he found in hts 
MSB.' 

The whole account of Kennicott given in this new work, if compared 
with that of the lectures on Bib. Crit, will show any reader that the 
similarity is of such a kind as to set aside undesigned coineidence. 
But the sentences are transposed, and the words considerably alt»ed ; 
while the ideas are the same. 

* My interpretation of the term On^al as used by Lachmann, is unquestionably 
erroneous; but it is not peculiar to me : in fact I believe I held it in common with 
almost all British theologians till the appearance of Mr. Tregelles' admirable Pro- 
spectus for a new critical Greek Testament, &c.' (See the Reply.) 

Here the truth of the matter is, that the mistake in question was 
committed by the writer because / had fallen into it. Ko British the- 
ologian, except Mr. Tregelles, in his edition of the Apocalypse, had 
fallen into the error before the writer in question ; and Mr. Tregelles 
had followed myself in it. The author of * Principles of Textual 
Criticism ' must have fallen into the mistake either from following me 
or Mr. Tregelles. But he had not seen Mr. Tregelles' work on the 
Apocalypse ; therefore he must have fallen into the mistake nfier me. 
Compare this single fact with the strong assertion, ' I declare that I 
have not copied a line from him, nor accepted a single fact or a single 
argument on his authority.' I waive t^omment. 

But I must forbear, as I only intended to write a single page when I 
began ; and I know your readers will care Httle about an exposure of 

tiie 



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1849.] Correspondence, 159 

the writer in question. I have now done with the book and*it8 author. 
I have no intention of writing it into noHce ; nor can the author him- 
self do so, however anxious he appears to be on thb head. I repeat my 
statement, that it is o^ hast twenty years behind the present state of the 
science. If this be not true in the judgment of every competent 
scholar, I am willing to forfeit for ever any little reputation I may 
have acquired in the department of Biblical literature. Those who 
have been accustomed to show some deference to my opinions may rely 
on the correctness of what I now assert. ' A sad exhibition is thts Re^ 
ply, T am grieved for the writer of it ; for I mu^t believe his book 
rather than some of his subsequent declareUions, The evidence of the 
former is very clear ; and how he reconciles some after-assertions with 
it, I am utterly at a loss to conjecture. Strange truly, that a novus 
homo in Biblical literature should show so much self-sufficiency ! And 
where there is an abundance of this unenviable quality, there is com- 
monly great ignorance. Pools rush in where angels fear to tread, I 
leave the book to its fate. I have expressed my opinion of it in all 
honesty. To say that it possesses much merit is out of the question. 
It is totally unworthy the notice o£ scholars. * It must i»t>^a^ as often 
as instruct the beginner. In short, it is the production of one incom- 
petent for his task, but persuaded notwithstanding, that he has know- 
ledge, ability, and skill sufficient for it. I fear that in this persuasion 
iie is singular. In England at least he is so. 

Samuel Davidson. 



DR. SAMUEL LEE IN ANSWER TO PROFESSOR 
VON EWALD. 

To the Editor of the Journal of ISacred Literature, 

Sir,— Having received an extract from your Journal (vol. iii. No. 
-vi.), entitled 'Pbofessor Von Ewald on Db. Samuel Lee's Ac- 
-cusATiON,' which stands in need of some additional matter which I 
happen now to possess, I request- the £ivour of the insertion of this in 
t)ne of your early Numbers. I have, too, desired Messr<>. Seeleys to 
send you a copy of ipy tract referred to in the extract, of which I beg 
your acceptance. It i.^, I believe, to Mr. John Nicholson that I am 
indebted for this extract, who appears to be the writer of its earlier 
portion. To him allow me to offer my best thanks for the £ivour 
done me in sending this Paper, as also for the care he has taken in 
getting Professor Ewald's judgment on my Accusations recorded. Of 
the goodness or badness of this judgments you will now have it in your 
power to form an opinion. To myself it is exceedingly g^tifying. I 
have shown at length »iy reasons for dissenting from Von Ewald, all 
of which he meets with the short and, of course, most convincing reply, 
that I am both a fool and a knave. In his former charges — much to 
the same effect — he declared his determination to contest these points 
with me to the uttermost. lie has, however, now clianged his mind ; 

and 



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160 Correspondctice. [July, 

and in this, Mr. Nicholson seems to think he has done well. Cer> 
tainly I think so, and for the same among other reasons, viz., that no 
roan of honour can condescend to prolong a personal controversy on 
such unequal terms, t. e., where abuse only is offered when argument is 
called for. 

On the origin of this controversy, Mr. Nicholson*s prefkce to his 
Paper, together with what is given in the accompanying tract, will be 
quite sufficient. I shall now lay before you the additional matter 
already adverted to. It is thb, Dr. Ewald declared (^ Churchman's 
Review' for May, 1847) that he had not seen my Hebrew Grammar till 
after his (of 1 835) had appealed ; the inference was, that he could 
not have inserted any discovery of mine in that edition. His words 
are, • Long after that edition of my Hebrew Grammar («. e. of 1835), 
in which the substance of my entire system is contained, had been 
published, an Englishman, then in G5ttingen, showed me Professor 
Lee's Grammar in order to hear my opinion about it,' t&c. Long after 
1835, therefore, Dr. Ewald got for the first time a sight of my He- 
brew Grammar. Now I have at this moment before me a note written 
by this very Englishman, in which stand the following words : ^ Dr. 
Ewald saw Prof Lee's Grammar in my possession in the year 1832, 
and I believe, at his request, I left it with him a short time for his 
inspection.' I need not inform Dr. Ewald who this Englishman is, for 
he well knows it. I will only say that, from the truly honourable 
character he sustains, he will not hesitate to repeat this testimony 
whenever or wherever he may be called upon to do so. I now 
leave this mystery to be explained either by Von Ewald or Mr, 
Nicholson, and will venture to affirm, that until this be satis&ctorily 
done, considerable doubt may be entertained whether he really is the 
honourable man Mr. Nicholson takes him to be — that he b not the 
learned man, I have given proof sufficient. 

I must add, I supposed in my Tract that certain contents of my 
Grammar had found their way into Dr. Ewald's Edition of 1828 ; but 
as I had not seen a copy of it, I could not positively say so. The 
gentleman alluded to above has favoured me with the loan of his copy 
of that Edition, and which I find to be nothing more than an abridg- 
ment of Ewald's Grammar of 1827. I acquit Dr. Ewald therefore on 
this count. On all the rest I am prepared to maintain that he is an un- 
principled plagiary, and that it is his inability to purge himself from 
this charge, and nothing else, that has now induced him to take refuge 
in a tissue of unmeasured abuse. 

I join most cordially with Mr. Nicholson in wishing that the cause 
of Biblical literature may benefit by this controversy ; and I do think 
that in skilful hands this nSay be brought about. I am too not 
without hopes that your publication may be the means of effecting 

*^^' Samuel Lee. 

TVie Rectory^ Barktf, Herts, 30th April, 1849. 

Biblical 



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184:9.] Correspondence. 161 

BIBLICAL ERRORS IN JOHNSON'S DICTIONARY. 
By Db. Benisch. 

Sir, — Allow me to call the attention of the lexicographers of the 
English language to two mistakes in Johnson's Dictionary lefiMTing to 
Scripture. 

The Doctor explains ' pygarg ' as ^ a bird/ I am not willing to 
dispute the correctness of this explanation as &r as it goes ; I am also 
aware that the*Oreek etymology admits of such a rendering, and^ more- 
over, that Pliny (x. 3), enumerating the eagles, says, ' secundi generis 
pyg^gus in op^adis mansitat et in eampis albicante cauda.* Bat if 
the English pygarg means a certain species of bird, excluding all 
kinds of quadruj^ds, how are we to understand the rendering of the 
Anglican version in Deut xiv. 5, wh^ne among the beasts allowed 
to be eaten by tlie Jews, is also mentioned the fit^, translated 
* py^rg.' The tenor of the text not only excludes the possibility 
of pE^n meaning any species of bird whatever, but evidently points 
to some species of antelope. And, indeed, as such is the pygarg de- 
scribed by Aristotle ' Hist. Animal,,' 9-32, and by Plmy (x. 3). 
This was also no doubt the meaning attached to it by the Sep- 
tuagint, which the Anglican version in this instance follows. I think 
therefore that the future editors of Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, in order 
to avoid confusion, should explain ' pygarg ' as a species of eagle, and 
also a kind of antelope. 

The same author under the head ' to sit,' assigns to this term as its 
13th meaning, ^ to exercise authority,' and quotes from Judges: ' Asses 
are ye that sit in Judgment.' Now, to the best of my knowledge, there 
is no such passage in Scripture. That in Judges referred to, runs 
thus : < Speak, ye that ride on white asses, ye that sit in judgment and 
walk by the way.' It is easy to perceive how the ludicrous mistake arose, 
and is even pardonable in the hurry pjf copying authorities ; but having 
been pointed out, the mistake ought to be corrected in future editions 
of the work.' 

The Sbptuagint Tbanslatiok op ' Jehovah.' — The Rev. W. 
Niblock, of Donegal^ writes to us in correction of the assertion of 
Gesenius, that the sacred name Ti}p> is uniformly reoadered by 6 icvpioet 
in which observation hi» translation seems to concur, and others have 
probably made the same statement on the high autluority of the great 
Ilebrew lexicographer. But on comparing the Greek translation with 
the Hebrew original some £ew years ago, Mr. Niblock ascertained that 
the Seventy were by no means so unifortn in their rendering of n\n^ as 
Gesenius aifirms. The extent of their departure irom such uniformity 
may be easily ascertained by every scholar ; but, as an instance, the 
word is in one chapter three times rendered by 6 Ofocy Prov. iii. 5, 7, 19« 

* To this misqaotation my attention was called by m^ friend the late Michael 
Josephs, one of the most eminent Hebrew scholars that this coantry possessed. 

VOL. IV. — HO. VII. M Notices 



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( 162 ) [July, 



NOTICES OF BOOKS. 



The PictoricU Bible ; being the Old afsd New TesiamenU according 
to the Authorized Version : illustrated with Steel Engravings afier 
celebrated Pictures^ and many hundred IVood-cutB^ representing the 
Landscape Scenes^ from original drawings^ or authentic engra- 
vings ; and the subjects of Natural History, Costume, and Anti- 
quities from the best sources. To which are added. Original Notes, 
chiefly explanatory in connection with the Engravings, or of such 
passages connected with the History, Geography, Natural History, 
Literature^ and Antiquities of the Sacred Scriptures, as require 
observation. By John Kitto, D.D., F.8.A. A new Edition, of 
which the Notes are much augmented and completely revised, 

. London : Charles Knight. 1848. 4 vols. Svo. 

We have copied this long title in full, as it is in some respects a suffi- 
cient answer to the inquiries made of us respecting this new edition of 
the Pictorial Bible. It is in further answer to such inquiries that the 
present notice of the work is given, notwithstanding the obvious diffi- 
culty which arises from the relation in which the Editor of the Journal 
of Sacred Literature stands to that work. That relation precludes us 
from offering any opinion of the claims and merits of the Pictorial Bible ; 
but does not forbid us from stating the views under which the new edition 
has been produced, or from pointing out the features which distinguish 
this edition from the original work. 

A new edition of a large work stereotyped in the first instance, and 
of which therefore any number might t>e struck off to meet the current 
demand, would not have been prudent or justifiable, on account of the 
great expense, had not some marked improvements been contemplated. 

During the years which have passed since the Pictorial Bible first ap- 
peared, an unexampled degree of activity has been manifested both in 
this country and abroad, in exploring all the sources of knowledge 
contributory to the illustration of the geography, history, zoology, 
botany, ethnography, antiquities, and criticism of the sacred volume ; 
and in the development and elucidation of the customs and manners, 
and the public and social institutions, of the Hebrew people and of 
the other nations whom its inspired ps^es bring before us. All this 
had been watched most observantly by the editor, who had constantly, 
in the course of the intervening years, noted down whatever had fallen 
under his eye, or had been suggested by his own lefleetions, as tending 
in any degree, by the correction of his former views, or, by the addition 
of new and interesting matter,— to keep the work up to the require- 
ments of the present time, and to bring it, as nearly as the constant 
progression of our knowledge allows, into that condition which might 
be held to establish its permanent character and value. 

Although 



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1849.] Notices of Books. . 163 

Although a work of this kind deals chiefly with what the Germans 
would call Thing- Knowledge y rather than with what they distinguish 
as Word' Knowledge — it is but right to state that the Pictorial Bible 
is not wanting in such critical remarks as may tend to develop the 
meaning of the sacred writers, or to elucidate what are usually r^;arded 
^ ' the hard texts of Scripture/ It is also oflen found necessary to 
examine the words of the original texts at the outset of many of the 
notes, as the groundwork of the conclusions on material subjects which 
these notes embody. In both these particulars increased attention has 
been given in the new edition ; and, taken altogether, a large body of 
criticism and exegesis has thus been almost insensibly formed, which 
would, it was hoped, render the work an acceptable help to students 
and ministers, without in any degree comprising those more popular 
elements which have secured for the Pictorial Bible a large measure of 
the public fitvour. 

There is no department of Biblical literatuve in which more advance 
has of late years been made, or on which more publications have ap- 
peared, than in that most interesting one devoted to the examination 
of the literary history and distinguishing circumstances of the several 
books which compose the sacred volume. In the present edition of 
the Pictorial Bible increased attention has been therefore given to this 
department, and every book has been furnished with a new and more 
copious introduction, affording, so far as the plan of the work allows^ 
the results of the best information with reference to it, which the most 
careful research has been able to supply. 

The close of each of these Introductions exhibits the new feature, . 
the importance of which will be differently estimated by different per- 
sons, of an ample list — a complete Ibt is perhaps scarcely possible — of 
the separate Commentaries which have been published in that Book of 
Scripture in this country and abroad. They are given in chronological 
order, and have been prepared with much care and labour. We are 
not aware of any Ibts like these. Winer's and others, published on 
the Continent, take but little notice of works published out of Ger- 
many; and those set forth in this country take but little heed of 
those issued on the Continent ; but in these lists equal attention 
has been given to both ; and although it is admitted that ihey 
may not be of material service to the general reader, even he 
may allow them the small space they occupy, in consideration of the 
service they cannot fail to render to students and ministers. Even 
the thoughtful general reader may find some matter for suggestive 
meditation in these lists. They will enable him to see what are the 
i)poks which have been chiefly attractive for separate exposition ; he 
will perceive how much more attention has, until of late years, been 
given to the separate consideration of particular sacred books, abroad 
than in this country ; and he may trace the periods in which this de- 
partment of Biblical literature was most cultivated. 

In the years which elapsed between the completion of the original 
work and the commencement of the new edition, the time and atten- 
tion of the Editor had been almost entirely occupied in labours con- 

u 2 neeted 



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1 64 • Notices of Books. [July, 

nected with Biblical literature. He had thus been most advan- 
tageously posted for the accumulation of materials for this new 
edition ; while his enlarged acquaintance with the labours and re- 
searches by which foreign scholars have of late years enriched the 
branches of theological knowledge embraced within the plan of this 
work, will probably be found to have materially contributed to its im- 
provement. 

The final results appear in a considerable body of fresh matter, 
exhibited in some thousands of new notes, and in additions to, and 
improvements of, a large number of the notes contained in the original 
work. Space for this has been provided, by an actual increase of the 
letter-press ; by the omission of one class of wood*cuts ; by the carefiil 
excbion from the original work of such matters as might, it was judged, 
be spared not only without loss, but with advantage ; and by the pru- 
ning and condensation of many notes which remain without essential 
alteration. The efiect of all this may be seen in the fact that in the 
Pentateuch alone, besides introductions occupying several pages, be- 
tween four and five hundred new notes have been introduced, without 
the sacrifice of any valuable matter contained in the original work, and 
with the addition of a large number of really illustrative engravings, 
which did not appear in that publication. 

The general result may thus be stated : — That the matter of the 
original work has undergone a most careful and elaborate revision r 
that nothing of interest or value in the original work is wanting in the 
new edition : and that large additions have been made, equal altoge- 
•ther, probably, to above one-third of the whole work, of the same 
kinds of useful information which have secured for the Pictorial Bible 
the high consideration with which it has been favoured. 

The general aspect of the work is considerably difiTerent from that 
of the old edition — the page is larger, the paper better, and the notes 
are printed not across the page, but in double columns. But the 
greatest visible diflerence is in the engravings. In the original work 
there were large wood-cut engravings, after historical pictures, printed 
on the same page with the text. Many of these were admirable as 
works of art ; but being often inaccurate as exponents of history, and 
imperfect in representations of manners and costume, they appeared 
objectionable in an edition of the Bible which aimed at the accurate 
illustration of such particulars. They have therefore been altogether 
omitted, and their place has been supplied in part by a few excellent 
maps, and by some engravings on steel from modern paintings to which 
the same objections were not applicable. But chi^y has advantage 
beeii taken of this omission to introduce a vastly increased number of 
really illustrative wood-cuts, whereby the value and extent of that 
portion of its information which is better conveyed by pictures than by 
written language, is most materially enhanced, and this portion of the 
work must be regarded as having been improved in full proportion with 
the written notes. It may be added that as the wood engravings have 
been throughout selected by the Editor and prepared under his direc- 
tion, there prevails through this work a harmony betwe^ the letter- 
press 



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1849.] Notke$ of Books. 166 

press and the engravings which is not always found in works pictorially 
illustrated. 

There appears to be a more frequent reference to authorities in 
this than in an original edition. Some discretion was needful here, as 
the minuteness of reference necessary in worics designed for schoJars, 
must have been out of place in a book intended for general use, and 
few of the possessors of which would be willing or able to follow the 
references. Under these circumstances the course has been chosen of 
mainly confining the references to the works in which those desirous of 
pursuing the inquiries might find further information, and of stating 
the sources from which direct quotations are derived, it must be con? 
fessed that experience may have suggested some reserve in respect of 
quotations. It could not escape the notice of the editor that many 
books had been composed mainly out of his materials, without any 
acknowledgment of the source from which they were derived ; although 
where he gave authorities the writers re-produced them without any 
reference to the intermediate work in which they were first exhibited, 
as digested and applied to the purposes of Biblical illustration. The 
only way to bafiie this unfairness, would be by greater chariness of 
reference; and it must therefore have been through some efibrt of self- 
denial, out of regard to the interest of his readers, that in the present 
edition the references have been materially extended rather than dimi- 
nished. It may be that, without being insensible to the unfidmess with 
which his labours have been thus appropriated in every possible form by 
every class of compilers, the Editor has not been unmindful that, in the 
midst of all, the great object of his life and labours, usefulness, has 
been attained even by the way in which his humble exertions in pro- 
moting the knowledge of God's word have, by their dispersion through 
a thousand channels, become part of the common knowledge and edu- 
cation of the time. 

Loyola; and Jesuitism in its JRudiments. By Isaac Taylor. Lon- 
don : Longmans. 8vo. pp. 382. 

Here at last we have an answer to questions which have often been 
put to us by Correspondents — ^ What is Isaac Taylor about ? What 
prev^its him from going on with the translation of Josephus, on which 
we have already spent a pound, and the completion of which has been 
so long since and so often promised ?' Lo, here is the answer. Mr. 
Taylor has been busy with Loyola and the Jesuits ; and as this is 
designed to be but the first of a series of works on cognate subjects, we 
apprehend that those who are waiting for Josephus must make up their 
minds still to wait. We must confess that we are not disappointed. 
Much as we value those qualities as a translator which Mr. Taylor 
evinced in his translation of Herodotus, we pinch prefer to see him 
engaged on original productions. Considering how short the term of 
literary life to any one man is, it angers us that an able writer should, 
from constraint or perverted choice, waste his precious time and 
resources upon any other kind of work than that which he can do best 

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166 Notices of Books. [July, 

of all. Many besides Mr. Taylor are fully qualified to translate 
Josephus ; but very few are able to set forth, or to set forth so well, 
that kind of original work which flows with such forceful grace irom 
his pen. May he, therefore, say we, let Josephus alotie, and proceed 
with his present undertaking. Still the completion of Josephus is 
needed — and is due to those who have laid out their money upon th« 
early parts, which remain all but useless to them till the translation is 
finished. The remedy is obvious. Let Mr. Taylor free himself from 
this anxiety and labour, by transferring it to the hands of some one 
who has more leisure and appetite for the task, and devote himself to 
the production of those fine books — so full of thought, of feeling, yet 
of research, enshrined in clear and beautiful writing — on which his 
usefulness in this age and his reputation in the ages to come will mainly 
rest. We are quite sure that every one of our readers will agree in 
this wish when he hears what the design the author contemplates 
really is. It is thus expressed- in the closing paragraph of the 
Preface t — 

' The present religious existence of the European commonwealth — if indeed Ae 
continental nations can be said to retain any of the elements of a religious existence 
— various as it is in its features, might be described uuderthe names of some twelve 
or twenty illustrious leaders of past times. Nothing on any side exists which may 
not be fairly brought under review in connection with a name,, or which, would not 
involuntarily suggest itself to every well-informed mind on the mere mention of 
such a name, 

' I will confess to have entertained the idea of bringing the several existing 
religioos systems under separate review— each, oonridered as the product of the 
mind which pcincipally gave it its form and character. The execution of a task 
such as this in a manner liill;^ proportioned to its magnitude and importance, would 
demand qualifications to which I make no pretension. The quali£cation which I 
do profess, and apart from which such a task assuredly should not be attempted, is 
—on the one hand, a profound belief of the truth of that Gospel which ^* is not of 
man/' — ^and on the other, a thorough freedom of mind in relation to all those forms 
of Christianity which bespeak a lower origin/ 

But why commence such a series with Loyola and Jesuitism ? Not 
certainly, Mr. Taylor states, from any desire to step forward and sig- 
nalize his Protestant zeal, at a time of political and ecclesiastical com- 
motion^ l^ an attack upon the ever-to-be-dreaded ^ Society of Jesus ;' 
or because he r^ards that Society as. now especially formidable : 

' On tilie contrary, it is because Jesuitism is now, as I think, falUng into its plaee 
among schemes that ma^ be analysed without alarm, and ti^at may be treated m all 
calmness, according to its merits,, that I have selected it from among those insti- 
tutes which are still extant, and likely to subsist a while, and to exert some dying 
influence, although they be hastening to their end. The same may be sud of afi 
these products of the middSe ages, or of the season of convulsion which brought 
the me^SRval era to a close — ^namely, that as things about to *' vanish away/' they 
offer themselves as fit subjects of tranquil and instructive contemplation/ 

The work is divided into two equal parts, the first being devoted to 
the personal history of Loyola ; and the second to ' Jesuitism in its 
Rudiments,' that is, as set forth in what may be regarded as the canon- 
ickl writings of Jesuitism. 

The first portion is an admirable dissertation on the career of a most 
remarkable man« The history of Loyola is here related with much 

animatioa 



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1849.] Notices of Boohs, 167 

animation and strength of style ; his character is delineated with mas- 
terly discrimination ; and the principles developed in his career are 
indicated with marvellous distinctness. In every page we trace the 
mind of one who is gifled with a rare tact for the discovery of the 
beautiful and the true, wherever it may be found ; and for detecting 
the foul and the false, in whatever dark corners it may be hidden. 
Loyola has never till now had a biographer so willing and so able to 
do full justice to all the good in his character and principles, and so 
resolute and keen in laying bare all the evil in both. Many will think 
the picture too &vourable, and some may deem it the reverse. But 
upon the whole it seems to us in all essential points a perfectly truthful 
delineation, from which the reader may rise with the conviction that 
he has obtained a more clear and correct impression of the great 
founder of Jesuitism than any other work in our own or in any other 
language will enable him to realize. We should like to give the reader 
some larger specimens of the quality of this part of the work than our 
space allows, but for one or two morsels we must find room. The 
first is one of many examples in recent literature of the tendency to 
seek for indications of character in the personal appearance of the hero. 
This used to be thought a poor test ; but the writings and lectures of 
the phrenologists have in the course of years had more effect than we 
may be willing to acknowledge : — 

' Inigo, high-born, slenderly educated, or, as it seems, wholly untaaght in let- 
ters, yet accomplished in all graceful and chivalrous art, wanted no advantage that 
might secure to him in ample measure the smiles and favours which are to be won 
in courts, palaces, pavilions, and camps. He is described by contemporaries as of 
middle stature, with an aspect full of grace and dignity ; a complexion between the 
fair and swarthy ; an ample and prominent forehead ; an eye sparkling, and full of 
life ; the nose somewhat long and curved. He limped slightly, hut not awkwardlv, 
in consequence of the injury his leg had sustained in the hands of the surgeons. It 
is affirmed that he would never grant permission to painters or sculptors to exercise 
their art upon him, and that the extant portraits and medallions were all derived 
from a cast taken after death. If authenticity could be attributed to a medallion, the 
execution of which mig;ht seem to vouch for its genuineness, and which accords well 
with the description given of their friend and master by his followers, we may 
assume him to have been handsome, after the Spanish type, and decisively of 
military mould and aspect. The air is that of the ecclesiastic, induced upon a form 
and temperament which was thoroughly diat of the soldier. The contour, symme- 
trical and rotund, is expressive of a hopeful, enterprising, and chivalrous, rather 
than of a reflective turn. One would say that the outward life was more to this man 
than the inward life. The intense attitude is that of one whose own emotioBS and 
imnressions rule his animal system, leaving him Kttle under the control of persons 
and things aroimd him. He is self-prompted, self-possessed, 8ure» determined, un> 
hesitating, firm ; but not remorseless or inexorable. He is fertile in resources; nor 
ever desponds because he has no means of help left him. He is niee in his percep- 
tions ; has a keen relish of enjoyment, and — must it not be said ? is of a pleasure- 
loving constitution. One would not think him the ascetic, or the self-tormentor. 
He is well-fleshed and sanguineous,* and is accustomed — so one might surmise — to 
adjust all diflferences between flesh and spirit in a reasonable manner. If imagin- 
ative, it is only within the narrowest limits : his imagination lights up at a spark, 
but as it has little oil of its own, it does not bum with any rich, copious, or continu- 
ous splendour. Yet assuredly there is nothing malignant in this physiognomy ; it 

* This we do not see in the medallion, a copy of which is prefixed to the 
volume. 

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168 Notices of B(H^. [July, 



indicateB no aeerbitr, no Batlen pride, no retention of anger. Tbis man is to» 
bap^ in himself to harbour a resentment. 

* Thus &r, then, the medallion consists with the history of ** Sunt Ignatius ;" 
bat it must be confessed that if any score of portraits, unnamed, were jilaoed on the 
table, and it were demanded tiart the Ibonder of the order of the Jesuits should be 
singled out from among them, sereral pjrobably of that number would be selected 
sooner than this. If indeed tfiis be the im^ge of the anther of that Institute^ how 
shrouded was that intelliffence | — ^how nmny fieithoms deep was that mind seated, 
which conceired a scheme ror ruhng the world, and whidi went ftr toward actually 
fUlingit!'— (p. 20,) 

The fallowing is a curious trant of the force of that will which is con- 
stantly indicated In the career of Ignatius — and which indeed appears 
to be the source of all real distinction for good or for eril. Loyola 
has his leg fractured by a ball at the siege of Pampeluna. The bone 
is badly set, and his life is in great danger ; but things turn out favour- 
ably, and he rallies : — 

' A fresh illustration, bowerer^ was yet to be afforded of Loyola's energy of will, 
ibr as his recoyery adyanced it was found that the fhtctured — ^the re-fractured bone,, 
had so united as to present an misightiy protrusion, just where thfe well-tnmed limb 
should show a graceful outline, liiis defonmty was in his esteem an intolerable 
dl ; fbr what is life with all its splendours to one whose stocking could never be 
made to fit without a rumple? Although forewarned that the removal of this 
bony excrescence couM not be effected without inflicting the most exquisite an- 
guish, Lc^oTa yielded himself cmce again to the martyrdom of a terrible operation. 
While his attendants fhinted in witnessing the horrors of it, he, unbound and with- 
out a groan, endured the surgeon's tools, indicating his anguish only by the tight 
clench of his hands. That the motive for undergomg this an^;uish was such as is 
alleged, his bic^grapfaer asserts — et quod me audiente narravit — trt habiles atqne 
elegantes urbanus ocreas gestare posset, secare os jussit' — Qpp. 25, 26). 

This same strength of will is still more strikingly indicated when, with 
the view to future usefulness and to the necessary qualifications for hi» 
new vocation, Loyola resolved to repair the defects of his early edu- 
cation : — 

' At Barcelona and during his foram sojourn there, Loyola had gumed the good- 
will of a devout lady, named Isabella Bosella, to whom now, on his return, he 
eommunicated his design of going through a course of elemen^iry instruction, the 
better to fit him for the work to which he wished to dlevote Idmself, namely, the 
eare of souls. This lady and patrcm, along with a schoolmaster of the city 'named 
Ardebal, highly approved his plan ; and the latter benevolenUy undertook to direct 
his studies without fee ; while the former pledged herself to supply the means of 
his support. Thus confirmed in his purpose, and thus assisted, he took lus Latin 
grammar in hand. Resolutely, therefore, he now addressed himself to his task ; 
and how arduous and how repulsive must have been the daily effort of acquiring 
the very rudiments of learning to a man trained as he had been, and now past his 
thirtieth year I And yet this mere difficulty of learning was not the <mly trial of 
constancy which he had to encounter, for so fixed had the devotional habits of his 
mind now become, and with such impetus and velocity did his thoughts rush for* 
ward in the channel of the pious affections, that as often as, in the deSension or the 
conjugation of verbs, the words were such as to suggest ideas of religion, his whole 
soul was on the wing ; grammar — teadier, all was f(»>gotten, and whatever he 
might already have learned was clean erased fix>m his memory f everytiiing was to 
be commenced afresh I Of this new perplexity the tempter took advanta^ using 
tiie lure of things sacred for the purpose of diverting Ignatius from his studies, 
and sometimes even giving him sudden insights into the mysteries of fiiith! He 
however discerned this artifice, leamefl how to baffle his adversary on his own 
ground, and thus acquired a species of skill of which he afterwards often availed 
himself, to the great benefit of the many souls that came under his care. 

'Near 



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1849.] Notices of Boohs. 169 

* Near to the school he attended there was a church dedkatod to the Blessed 
Virgin, where, after hayine dohr poured forth his petitions to God and Ae Virgin, 
he opened all his mind to his iriend and master Ardebal ; he professed anew and 
more explicitly his determination to persist in his studies two years loncer, or 
longer if neeofol, and to yield himself without distinction to ejery task, and 
submit to every chastisement, which, according to the usage of the sdiool, would 
be inflicted upon boys not nuilung more progress than^ himself. This pnxfessioii» 
made in all smcerit^ by Loyola, was accepted, and, it is affirmed, was acted upon 
by his master ; and it has been thought an edifying deiice to place belbre the world 
some touching representations of the scene when the great founder submissiTely 
and with tears was yielding his adult person to a smart infliction, administered by 
his fiiithfully wrathful pedagogue 1 ^* Saint Ignatius whipped at sdiool !" '—(pp. 
66—68.) ' 

The idea which Mr. Taylor entertains of Ignatius ia ably and finely 
wrought out in the chapter devoted to his * Character/ and from this 
our readers may claim a few paragraphs : — 

' Loyola, we must remember, had reached adult years at the time of his con* 
▼ersion ; and his mind at that period was a waste : the reasoning power had not 
been trained, scarcely at all had it been quickened. Although with him the onrely 
intellectual Acuities were of extraordinary grasp, they had slumbered througn what 
might be called a babyhood of thirty years ; and when at length they were awakened, 
the moral emotions and the religious impulses had alr^y taken a form with 
which reason never afterwards interfered. Loyola's reason mastered erery impuls^ 
even the strongest, which his religious convictions disallowed ; but it never ventured 
to bring those convictions to its tribunal. It is thus that he stands before us at 
once the boldest of all innovators, and as the most unquestioning and submissive 
of the Church's dutifbl sons. His intellect was of giant strength; but a silken 
thread was always enough to bind it in allegiance to the usages and fidtii of the 
Church. No spirit more daring than his, or more purely original and self-informed, 
in relation to whatever he held to be fVee to him, or to be at his fkdl disnosal ; none 
more abject in relation to what from his cradle he had regarded as sacrea. Loyola 
could never have been the reformer of established systems: flor he wondiipped 
every shred of the ecdedastieal tatters of past ages. But he was the inventor cSf a 
scheme essentially his own, and with marvellous jsagacity, and a tact fertile io 
resources, he c<mtrived to lodge the prodigious novelty — the Society of Jesus— 
within the very adytum of the old sjstem, and to do so without noise, without 
any displacement of parts or the breaking off even of a moulding ! By his hands 
a house was built within a house ; yet none had heard the din of the builder's tools 
while it was yet in progress. 

< Loyola understood, too, the respective offices of £uth, or religious motive, and of 
reason. He was wary of emotion when it might influence those determinations over 
which it was the province of reason to preside. It was his proKsssed practice, on all 
occasions of moment, to implore the Divine guidance, with a simple-hearted ihrvour, 
as if Heaven was to do it all : and having done this, then apply nimself with all his 
inip;ht to every natural means of success, by aid of energy, sagacity, and the calcu- 
lation of causes, as if the event were whmly dependent unon human forethought 
and assiduity — ** Let us pray as if we had no help in ourselves ; let us labour as if 
there were no help for us in heaven/' 

* What is said of him by all his biographers as to that impassioned style of his 
devotions, and as to the copiousness of that torrent of tears wluch seemed, at length* 
to have quite exhausted his natural moisture and to have brought him almost to the 
physical condition of a mummy, must be admitted as authentic in the main, and 
therefore as proving that his temperament was £ur from cold or purely intellectuaU 
But he had learned a secret which perhaps very few passionate spirits ever learn 
or ever attempt to nut in practice, namely, during the paroxysms of emotion to aa- 
hamese Reason ana to let ner stand by in her pla^. Loyola's emotions, how impe- 
tuous soever they might be, never ran away with his mind. At whatever time his 
bark was driven before the hurricane of reliipous fervour, Beason was found to be 

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170 Notices of Boohs, [July, 

ade en ihore, and ready to resome her place at the helm when the winds were 
hndied. He did nothing without emotion^ bnt he did nothing at its bidding. " Im- 
pulse and feeling/' he wonid say, " man shares with the inferior orders around him ; 
bfut reason is his distinction, aad with him therefore it should be supreme." 

* A less purCi^reason than Loyola's could never have conceived the idea of the 
Society ; nor could an mferior sagacity have governed it Yet a spirit less i|ro- 
foundly impassioned than his must have failed to breathe it into the soul and vital 
force which have carried it over the world and given it perpetuity.* — (pp. 173 — 
180.) 

The second portion of this work is devoted to the examination of the 
^pirittml Exercises of Ignatius, his Letters on Obedience, the Constt' 
tutioriy and the Directorium. The writer witnesses this phenomenon — 
that the Society speedily became the object of the darkest suspicions and 
the most vehement hatred, not only to Protestant but to Catholic states 
and people — and the question arises whether these suspicions and this 
odium were altogether unwarrantable and groundless ; or, being in the 
main well founded, whether the Society had in the brief period of a few 
years lost the spirit and forgotten the intentions of its founder, or had 
merely developed the principles of its constitution, and given effect to 
the spirit and letter of its code. The analysis of that code, as exhibited 
in the just named documents, is held by Mr. Taylor to establish the 
latter of these suppositions, by exhibiting * the germs of those evils 
which have rendered, and which must ever render Jesuitism a vicious 
institution, and must make it a source of mischief moral and political 
in the bosom of nations ;' it is also the only supposition that can be 
adhered to consistently with the &cts of the case. 

The chapter, near the close, on the purport of Jesuitism, contains 
many sagacious and profound observations which will be read by many 
with great interest. It might have appeared from the commencement 
that Mr. Taylor regarded Jesuitism as rapidly approaching its extinc- 
tion : but it here appears that he regards it as likely merely to close 
one mode of operation to open another suited to the altered condition 
of the world. Dynasties have disappeared, strong thrones have been 
shaken, state-craft has passed away and lost its old advantages. Those 
movements which affect the welfare of nations spring less and less from 
the individual will — from the mind and purpose of the governing few, 
and are more and more dependent — not so much upon the articulate 
voice of the people — as upon abstruse and uncontrollable, influences — 
moral, physical, commercial, and social. 

*' It is probable, therefore,' our author thinks, < that the Jesuit Society, not slow 
to read the lesson which events are placing in its view, will abandon what it may 
deem a desperate endeavour to rule the world as fW>m the depths of closets and 
cabinets, and may at once address itself to a task which, if it be more arduous and 
more perilous, is more stimulating^that of ruling it by placing itself in immediate 
communication with the masses of the people, and by offering itself to ride fore- 
most upon the surges of popular agitation. 

' Henceforward, as we may surmise, it will not be in the way of intrigue that the 
Society will make itself felt— for intrigue is not an engine that can be brought to 
bear on millions of men^ but as the promulgators of a political and social creed 
acceptable to these masses in a sense of which it may seem to be susceptible when 
expounded to rude ears ; but which in its inner and true meaning carries entire 
the principles of an absolute despotism. In times gone by, Jesuitism sought to 

rule 



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1849.] NotieeB of Books. 171 



mle^ie world tiy pailiiMg ilwlf mtax and nearer stil) to the tliroBe; m by aetnttj 
edging itaelf on to Mots or power. Bat in tines to oome, m we iny iweginc, A 
will seek to oompaM the lane derign by shooldcring the iBob fw w a r d in evety 
popular assanlt npon thrones. So long as monarchies rested solidly in their ] ~ 



opbn the field of Earo[^ the Jesuit Society wished to stand npoo Ae same term 
firma : bat now that this groond trembles beneath the ' ' "~ 



, „ foot, it wUl oonunend itself 

npon its own raft to the mighty deep-^the many, the "many waters" — ^the 
people!'— (p. 322.) 

Harmony of History with Prophecy ; an Exposition of the Apocalypse. 
By JosiAH CoNDER. London : Shaw. 12iiio. pp. 644. 

This very valuable book abundantly fulfils the expectations which the 
announcement of it awakened in the minds of those who were ac- 
quainted with the rery peculiar qualifications of the writer for the 
work he had undertaken. It is always refreshing to take up a book 
by an author whose previous labours have created a strong confidence 
in his clear-mindedness and good sense ; and this is felt as a peculiar 
recommendation where the subject of the work is one upon which has 
been founded so much of vi^ue and wild speculation as on the Apo- 
calypse. With this confidence we open Mr. Condor's wcnrk, and 
rejoice to find it a really good book: clear, sagacious, able, tem- 
perate, full of knowledge, and admirably calculated to become a text- 
book in the future study of the Apocalypse. As such we earnestly 
recommend it, without thereby pledging our assent to every one of 
the conclusions which the author has reached. Indeed, we have not 
known of any book on the Revelation which in et^^ry point com- 
manded the assent of any one mind but that which produced it. This 
is not surprising. The marvel is that any book should be so written 
on this subject, as that the great body of its interpretations ^ould 
appear to be unquestionable. This is the case here ; and is in part due 
to the highly judicious plan which Mr. Conder has followed. Of this 
the author himself says : — 

* Nnmerons as are the works which treat of the Scripture Prophecies, there are 
few complete Expositions of the Apocalypse in the English langoage ; and before 
the appearance of the Rev. Mr. Elliot's ** Critical and Historical Commentary/' 
there had been, no recent publication of any great value to the Biblical student, or 
sufficientiy attractive to redeem the subject fhmi the neglect and distaste wi^ 
which it had come to be very generally regarded. Since then the Commentary of 
the Bev. Moses Stuart has aDpeared, having for its object to set aside altogether the 
historical inten>retation of tne Apocaljrpse, in &vour ei the absurd reveries of the 
German neologists, yet supplving, by its textual criticism and by the preliminary 
disquisitions, an apparatus of considerable value. Neither of these publications, 
however, can be thouffht to render superfluous a work which aims to exhibit 
in a compendious and popular form, *' the harmony of historv and prophecy,'* 
as illustrated by tile interpretation of those predictions which have been fulfilled 
up to the present remarkable era— the era, as the writer believes, of the Seventh 
Vial. 

* While history is the decipherer of prophecy, prophecy is the expositor of his- 
tory. It has accordingl V been the writer's aim to furnish not only an interpreta* 
tion of tiie visions of this wonderful book, but, at the same time, a rapid retro- 
spect of those great revolutions and leading events which stand out in the annals of 
the past, and which unexplained wear so mysterious an aspect. Hitherto> the his- 
tory of Christianity has been ** the mystery of God '," a mystery which was not to 

be 



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172 Notices of Books. [July, 

be oompletely iinraTelled till it should be oonsaminaled by tbe events prefigured. 
That consummation is fast approachinff, and we may therefore expect that a dearer 
light will be thrown upon the page of prophecy, and upon the true philosophy of 
hutory as the record of the Divine dispensations. 

' In the present volume, the reader will obserre, that the historical counterpart 
to the predictions is giren in the form of citations from Gibbon, Bobertson, Hal- 
lam, Sismondi, and other popular writers, in whose language there will frequently 
be found a precise adaptation ot the Apocalyptic emblems which is more striking 
f^om being undesigned. There can be no pretext, therefore, of haTing nnfedrly 
accommooated the narrative to the prediction. Of the fordble evidence supplied 
by the independent witness of the historian the rader will judge for lumseif. It 
is assuredly a most remarkable circumstance that, so far as his narrative extends, 
the pages of Gibbon supply the best commentary upon the Revelation, to the autho- 
rity and inspiration of which he would have been the last to bear an intentional 
testimony.'— -(pp. iii. — v.) 

In the exposition of the seven seals, the trumpets, the witnesses, and 
the vials, ^ the views of this writer coincide generally with those set 
forth by Mr. Elliot in the ' Hor» Apocalypticse ;' but he adheres to 
that view of the ten-horned beast, which has obtained the concurrence 
of all the more modern expositors. He also supplies the customary but 
singular hiatus of two centuries and a half, occasioned by the passing 
over the whole interval between the Reformation of the sixteenth 
century and the European revolution in the eighteenth, by endeavour- 
ing to show that the vision of the harvest and the vintage applies with 
chronological exactness to the tragical sequel of the Reformation in 
the ^ religious wars ' of a hundred years. Mr. Conder has also felt 
compelled to reject, ^ as unauthorized by any sound principle of inter- 
pretation, that exposition of the vision contained in the 19th chapter, 
which has been made the basis of the theory of a personal advent of 
our Lord previously to the Millennium, as well as the literal interpre- 
tation of the first resurrection.' Both these opinions appear to be 
gaining ground in this country, and much interest is certainly felt in 
them. Many readers will therefore turn to this portion of the work with 
eagerness. They will find the subject more briefly handled than they 
may have expected, and they will have to recollect that the province of 
the work is not unfulfilled but fulfilled prophecy. After examining 
other interpretations, Mr. Conder considers that the conclusion we 
seem to be shut up in, is, < That the langus^e of this vision must be 
taken in an allegorical sense: and that the first resurrection, is 
a glorious revival of the life of the Church and a development of the 
kingdom of Christ upon earth, worthy of being regarded as a pre- 
figuration of the final resurrection. The full import of the prediction 
time will discover.' The duration of this happy period seems to him 
doubtful. It probably denote^ a long indefinite period ; for had a 
literal millennium been introduced, the time would probably have been 
stated as a thousand days : agreeably to the mystical import of a day 
in the previous visions. But our author shuns unfulfilled prophecy, 
on the views disclosed in his prefiice : — 

' From any attempt to lift the veil which conceals the future, by conjectural an- 
ticipations, the writer has conscientiously refirained ; the Kevelation was, he appre- 
hends, intended to be a guide to the general expectations of the Church in all 
ages, and more especially to sustain the iaith and patience of the persecuted and 

oppre»ed 



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1849.] Notices of Boohs. 178 

oppiressed servants of Christ under the protracted eonfliet first between Pliganlsat 
and Christianity, and, sabseqnently, between the despotic powers of apostate 
Christendom and the adherents to tiie primitiye fiuth. For this purpose, how- 
ever, it was not necessary that the interpretation riionld anticipate, but merely tiiat 
it should keep pace with the eyents. Such has been most remarkably the case. 
The earlier portions of tiie Apocalypse were correctly interpreted by writers who 
liyed at the time of the events prefigured, but who in attempting to carry ftirther 
their expo^tion of its mystic crrmbols, became lost, and only exposed their igno- 
rance. The visions whidi prefigured the wonderful burst of light and devdop- 
ment of intellectual and religious life at the era of the Reformation were not less 
correctly interpreted by the Saxon, Helvetic, and English Reformers; but they, 
too, cease to be either authorities or guides, when they attempt to spell out the un- 
developed sequel. The remark will equally apply to the learned expositors of the 
seventeenth century, who often discover great sagacity in their deductions as to 
the signs of the times, bat who fiiiled altogether in attempting to expound the 
Vision of tiie Seven Vials, to which they were inclined to g»ve more or less a r^ 
trospective application. When the first French Revolution burst like a thunder- 
clap upon the startied world, its manifest correspondence to the souncUng of the 
Seventh Trumpet was first recognized by Mr. Bicheno, in his " Signs of the Times," 
and subsequent writers, difiering widely in their political views and anticipation^ 
(among others Faber, Galloway, and Cuningham,) c<nienrred in this correct inter* 
pretation, which Mr. Elliot may be considered as having, by his masterly illastrfr> 
tion of historical evidence, completely established. Among all thoughtful and 
devout observers there has for some years past prevailed a conviction that the ex- 
hausted state of the Turkish eminre corresponded to the judgment of the Sixth 
Vial^ and that the Apocalyptic scheme had advanced to this point in its hiftorical 
development And now, the startiing and portentous character of the events which 
have convulsed all Europe, has produced a very general impresrion that we are 
witnessing the predicted effects of the last mystical vial poured out upon the poli- 
tical atmosphere. While entertaining a strong assurance that this is a correct view 
of the signs of the times, the writer has nevertheless not presumed to ^eenlste 
upon even the proximate issue. God has not designed that we should anticipate 
even by the aid of His own word the revelations of His i>rovidence. The sreat 
outlines of the future are indeed discernible in the prophetic page, but the filling 
up cannot be supplied by mortal intellect. *' It is not for t» to know the timet 
and the seasons which the Father hath put in his own power." ' — (pp. vi.— iz.) 

The time seems to have passed, or to be rapidly passing, io which 
the study of the Apocalypse was regarded as a special and exceptional 
pursuit, not necessary even to the theologian, and not always r^;arded 
with favour. The common and vague objections to the study of ufrful* 
fiUed prophecy have been supposed to bear with peculiar force on the 
Revelation. But it is not so ; seeing that it has been beyond all quei* 
tion demonstrated, that but a small part of the events and conflicts 
which that' great book adumbrates remains to be accomplished. The 
rest, the great bulk of the book, is history now ; and it is such history 
as becomes indispensable to theological education. The book is, there- 
fore, now studied largely,, and must be studied more and more ; and 
this study can have no other result than to strengthen faith and to en* 
courage hope. In this conviction it is that we regard with signal 
satisfaction a work which is so well calculated as the present to form 
an introduction to this study ; and while we have certainly not met 
with any book which we could with equal confidence recommend as 
a suitable basis for Apocalyptic studies, and so well adapted to render 
such studies interesting to those to whom they are new, Mr. Conder's 
complete possession of the subject and the fulness of his various know* 

ledge 



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1 74 Notices of Boohs, [ July? 

ledge have enabled him to produce a work of no small value, even to 
those who have made the visions with which the exile of Patmos was 
favoured, the subject of their daily thoughts. 

Chronology of Prophecy t tracing the various Courses of Divine Pro- 
vidence^from the Flood to the end of time, in the light as well of 
national annals as of Scriptural predictions. By Adam Thom, 
Recorder^ Rupert's Land. London. Longman and Co. 1848. 
Post 8vo. pp. xxii. 300. 

The work before us is somewhat singular in one respect — being the 
production of a gentleman residing far beyond the limits of the ci- 
vilized world. ^ In the spring of 1839/ says the author, ^if^ring 
there be in these hyperborean climes, where the snow may be said, 
almost without a metaphor, to melt into verdure, I became a denizen 
of the Hudson's Bay Company's territories — a land in which, generally 
speaking, every house commands a region of rock and wood and water, 
more extensive than the principality of Wales. I i^-as stationed in 
Red River Settlement, the single oasis of this vast wilderness. This 
colony, the philanthropic creation of the late Earl of Selkirk, had 
been planted in a latitude three degrees farther north than Quebec, and 
in a longitude seventeen degrees more to the westward than Toronto; 
and notwithstanding the steady advances of the plough and the 
steam-boat from the east and the south, it was still separated by a 
month's march from the nearest outpost of civilization. As the echo 
of the world's doings found its way only thrice in a year, after long 
delays and at unequal intervals, to this secluded retreat, I gradually 
fell into the same indifference with respect to the news of the day, 
which had at furst so forcibly struck me in most of my adopted bre- 
thren.. ...... In this state of feeling books were almost the only 

refuge ; and as my stock, with the exception of a professional library, 
was singularly meagre, I was constrained rather to make a reverie of 
what I did read than to read much ; and, as both official -duties and 
social avocations were " few and far between," I enjoyed unbounded 
and uninterrupted leisure for the indulgence of my dreams.' The result 
of this secluded state of life was the Chronology of Prophecy^ which, 
after being twice forwarded to England in MS. for publication, and 
twice returned on the ground of the proverbial unproductiveness of 
commentaries on prophecy, at length made its appearance at the close 
of the past year. 

The theory of the present work, which — ^according to the author — 
^ differs so widely both in principles and conclusions from every other 
work on the subject,' may be briefly stated as follows. Mr. Thorn 
believes that the great prophetical periods, which meet us in the book 
of Daniel and in the Apocalypse, instead of simply denoting, as the 
Scriptures state, the length of time intervening between one era and 
another, do also in reality measure the intervals between a vast number 
of other great epochs in the world's history, both in ancient and mo- 
dem times. 

For 



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1«49.] Notices of Books. 1 75 

For example, the period of 430 y€ars — which is exactly one-third 
of Daniel's 1290 years — constitutes, in the imagination of our author, 
one of the keys which unlocks the mysteries of ancient and modern 
history. By multiplying at one time, and at another time dividing 
this number, he arrives at upwards of seventy epochs — commencing 
with the destruction of Troy, a. c. 11 84, and ending with the pacifica^ 
tion of Punjaub a. d. 1846. Thus, from the destruction of Troy, 
A. c. 1184, to the foundation of Rome, a. c. 753, is one link of the 
chain — 431 years. From this epoch to the capture of Babylon by 
Cyrus, A. c. 538, is one half of a link — 215 years. From this date to 
the Peloponnesian War, a. c* 431, is one quarter — 108 years ; and 
similarly to the end of the table, where we have — From the crisis in 
modern corn laws, a. d. 1765, and the subjugation of the Mahrattas, 
A. B. 1819, respectively, three sixteenths and one sixteenth, to the 
repeal of the corn laws and the pacification of Punjaub in 1846 ! 

The other great periods of prophecy, the 70 weeks of Daniel, or 
490 years ; the 1290 years ; and the 2300 years of the same prophet, 
are similarly handled by the author. A vast number of Tables are 
given, representing the various events in ancient and modern history, 
between which these prophetical periods — when multiplied or divided, 
constitute, according to Mr. Thom — the exact intervals. From these 
tabular summaries he makes the following reflections : — 

' ' Thus has the great book of the world's annals unlocked its hidden treasures. 
History has been elevated from being a picture of human nature to be a mirror of 
^e Divine perfections : its minutest details prove, not less condusivelv than its 
general results, that in the great games of war and politics, man is only the instru- 
ment of God. The records of every dominant race are a revelation : tfaie chronicles 
of every considerable empire are a clean and clear copy of that vast foreknowledge 
which was dictated in terms more or less obscure, and in portions more or less 
scanty, to the patriarchs and prophets and evangelists of old.'-— p. 103. 

Now we must acknowledge that this theory of the Chrowdogy af 
Prophecy does appear to us singularly strange and fanctfuL In our 
opinion, the fact that at one particular period in Jewish history it was 
revealed to Daniel that 70 weeks should elapse before the occurrence 
of a certain specified event (Dan. ix. 24), constitutes no possible reason 
why certain fractions of 490 years should represent, by Divine ap- 
pointment, the intervals between an endless number of epochs in Eng- 
lish and foreign politics. Nor can we discern any conceivable argu- 
ment why — ^because the period of the sixth trumpet is .391 years — ^that 
therefore the number 13 multiplied by 2, by 3, by 4, or sundry other 
figures, should measure the spaces of time which intervene between all 
manner of eras, from the fall of Rome, a. d. 476> down to the accession 
of a reforming Pope a. j>. 1846. 

But if the theory itself appeals destitute of all probability, the de- 
tails are far more objectionable ; we may confidently add, full of the 
grossest blunders and absurdities. Indeed, whilst, in discharge of our 
duty as reviewers, patiently plodding through the pages of the work, 
we have been repeatedly struck with amazement how a writer of such 
.evident ability could deliberately pen such egregious trifling. It 

would 



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176 Notices of Books, [July? 

would be quite impossible within our limits to place before our readers 
oue-tenth <part of the unpardonable errors with which the book 
abounds, but the following must suffice as a sample. 

A large proportion of Mr. Th<Mn's wonderful harmonies and coin- 
cidences of time are obtained from the period given by the Apostle 
John in connexion with the sixth trumpet ; an hour, a day, a month, 
and a year, which amounts, according to him, to 391 years ; and the 
process by which they are got shall be given in his own words. 

* The period of the sixth trumpet consists of three hundred and ninety years and 
one year besides, while again three hundred and ninety are a multiple of thirteen 
— a number to be repeatedly noliced in the sequel. The time in question, therefore, 
may he regarded au made up <f twenttf-nme thirteens and one fourteen ; and the chain 
under consideration, with its grand link thus subdiyidedi^ will he found to mark 
nearly all the most important events in the history of Mohammedanism. But even 
without the aid of the intercalary /btir^6«n, the number thirteen may be regarded 
as a divisor of the whole period of *' an hour, and a day, and a mondi, and a year." 
As already noticed, the duration of the sixth trumpet is equivalent to three hundred 
and ninety years and three hundred and ninety days, or to three hundred and 
ninety times Xhe ^ace of a year and a day, or to thirteen such spaces multiplied by 
thirty.*— (p. 183.) 

These remarks are really too preposterous to require any com- 
ment. Thirteen is obviously no divisor of three hundred and ninety- 
one — ^yet, because it suited Mr. Thom's purpose to regard it as such, 
he has unblushingly spoken of it as though it were. Any other num- 
ber that can be named, less than 391, may with equal truth be re- 
presented as its divisor, by neglecting the trifling circumstance that 
there is a n^nainder! And thus, in the hands of our author, the 
science of numbers, instead of being the most certain of all sciences, 
is as loose and elastic as an India rubber ring* 

After reading the above, it will occasion no surprise to find that the 
tables of dates and epochs exhibit the most culpable errors or mis- 
representations. Thus in one tabular summary the quarter of 430 is 
represented first as 107, then as 108, and lastly as 1(^ in order to suit 
the author's purpose ! In the same page 143 is said to be the third of 
430, and 108 and 54 respectively the quarter and eighth of the same 
number I And tnmilar licence is used in reference to numbers through- 
out the whole book. 

These are not the only shifts to which the author resorts in order 
to make out a case— but we have done. We may now safely leave it 
to the reader to judge of the accuracy of Mr. Adam Thom's antici- 
pations when speaking, as he does in the preface, of the probable result 
of his labours. ' To affect an indifference, however,' says he, ^ towards 
the fate of my production would be far from the truth. I shall, on the 
contrary, be disappointed if my book does not attract considerable 
attention ; and I may even plead guilty of a hope that my labours, if 
God spare my child, will descend as a literary inheritance to him, 
through whose birth they were prompted, and in whose cradle they 
were fostered.' W. B. T. 



Moriah : 



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1849.] Notices of Books. 1 77 

Mariah : or Sketches of tke Sacred Rites of Ancient Israel, By the 
Rev. Robert W. Eraser, M.A., St. John's, Edinburgh. 
Edinburgh : W. Oliphant and Sons. 1849. Foolscap 8vo. 
Pp. 366. 

This volume is meant for the mass of readers who have not access to 
larger and more expensive works. The author probably contem- 
plated also the benefit of his brethren in the ministry, in rural districts, 
who have not access to the libraries of a city, and he is entitled to 
their gratitude for the service. In p. 101 he gives a note meant 
to meet the eye of ' the learned reader.' A statement of contents, 
and of the general plan, may be best given in the words of the 
author. 

* The plan of these sketches embraees a view of the temple on Moant Moriab, 
the great scene of Israel's worship ; an account of the priesthood ; a description of 
the daily worship, and of the rites peculiar to the Passover, to the feasts of Pente- 
cost and Tabernacles, the yearly atonement, and the festivals of new moons and 
new years, and an acooant of the Sabbath-day, Sabbath-year, and Jubilee. These 
descriptions are accompanied by scenes, either supposed to have occurred, or taken 
from authentic records, and calculated to illustrate the proceedings of the Israel- 
ites on the solemn occasions referred to. It will thus be perceived that the author 
has confined himself to the institutions of Divine origin, omitting those established 
among the Jews merely by human authority.' — pp. vi., vii. 

The author has executed his task well, and produced a useful and 
interesting volume. We think, however, that his descriptions are too 
long, and though well adapted for popular address, are not quite suited 
to a work of this kind. The great aim of a work on the Sacred Ritea 
of the Jews should be to state facts as clearly and fully as possible, and .to 
show their bearing on the illustration of Scripture. The author should 
have appended an index of texts illustrated in the volume ; and we 
suggest the propriety of his supplying this defect in a second edition. 
An index of subjects is also a desideratum. 

Mr. Fraser has consulted several important works on the sacred 
rites of the Jews, but we could specify many indications of the want 
of a thorough mastery of his subject. Some recent works, embracing 
this department of sacred literature, appear to be unknown to him. 
He seems not to have consulted the Pictorial Bible or Jahn's Biblical 
Antiquities. Of the Miskna he makes good use, and in quoting from 
it he gives the Latin (which, however, serves no good purpose, as it is 
itself but a translation) as well as his own English version ; and he 
speaks of ^ the work called the Miskna^* as translated into Latin, ^ in 
three volumes folio' (p. 116), as if this was the only copy of it ez-% 
tant. The best edition of the Miskna is that of Surenhusius, in six 
volumes folio ; and there is an English translation of selected tracta 
from it. 

The author might well have extended his plan without increasing 
the size of the volume, by excluding irrelevant matter. Some of his 
descriptions of scenes bear directly on the topic in hand, and present 
appropriate facts in a lively and interesting form. This will render 
the book more attractive to the gei)|eral reader, but it makes it less con* 

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. N venient 



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178 Notices of Booki. [Jiily, 

veoient for oonsultaiioo. There are other parts of the descriptioosy 
however, which are general and discursive, and serve only to enlarge 
the volume. In the chapter on the Sabbath, the author speaks of the 
perpetual and universal obligation of the weekly rest, as a part of the 
moral law ; but to the disappointment of the leader, he remarks that 
* the prooft of this are so obvious, that, for brevity's sake, they are 
omitted ' (p. 324). But why omit a topic so important, and at present 
so much discussed ? There is far too free and frequent a use of the 
words * obvious ' and ' evident ' in his remarks on this subject, since 
there is so much diversity of opinion among professing Christians re- 
garding it. 

We have thrown out a few hints which may possibly be of some 
service to the author in revising the work for a second edition ; but 
we hesitate not to commend • the volume to the general reader, as 
containing much valuable information, accompanied by discriminating 
observations, and which may be largely serviceable in the way <5 
elucidating Scripture, P. M. 

Loteinos, is ' the mark, or the name of the JBeast, having seven heads 
and ten horns ;' it beiftg the name of a man and containing the 
number of his name xfc, i. e. 666 ; Rev. xiii. v. 1-18, S^. By th« 
Bev. Bf:aiNAX«p Babett, M.A. 8vo. pp. 296. London : Fainter, 
1849. 

We do not hesitate to pronounce this a very silly, empty, and worth* 
less production. Nor is this censure expressed, as some of our readers 
may be led to suppose, from any want of interest in the subject. On 
the contrary, the call of the Spirit, ^ Here is wisdom : let him that 
hath understanding count the number of the beast,' has long been re« 
garded by us as one of the most important and interesting passages in 
the Apocalypse. The judgment we have passed is grounded upon the 
actual character of Mr. Babett's work, which is certainly one of the 
most absurd and ridiculous which has ever fallen under our notice. 

Some few years ago the author published a work, under a different title, 
upon the same subject as that now before us. In this previous pub- 
lication the same hypothesis was advocated. From a rambling sort of 
pre&ce to the present work, however, it appears that a letter was ad- 
dressed to him by the Bev. Geo. Stanley Faber against this hypothesis, 
shortly after the first work was issued; and that his 'reasons for 
taking up the subject a second time were, that he might confute Mr. 
Faber^s plausible objections and quibbles.' < Some time after I had 
received this letter,' he proceeds, ' it occurred to me that if I could 
only make a pictorial representation or drawing of the symbol of the 
Apocalyptic wild beast, with his seven heads and ten horns, and if I 
could then place the proper '' mark or name " of the Apocalyptic beast, 
which I believed to be Lateinos, over the respective seven heads and 
ten homsy it would greatly fkcilitate the means of pointing out in a 
dear and intelligible manner the order in which the seven heads and 
ten horns have consecutively appeared and passed away.' (p. vii.) 

Accordingly, 



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1^9.] Notices 0f Books. 176 

Aoeordingfy, Mr. Rabett has given ud the said pictorial representation 
of the Apocalyptic symbol, both iu a chart which accompanies the 
work, and also on the covers of the book itself» — and a perfect non- 
descript it verily is ; resembling nothing so much in its proportions 
as a huge timber-carriage. Let the reader imagine a leopard, elongated 
to about double its proper length, with a dragon's head, and without 
its hinder legs. To the posterior extremity of this animal is joined 
another leopard, without its fore legs, and stretching up its fierce head 
between the two bodies, thus forming one huge compound monster. 
Over the side of the latter beast are slung the heads of no less than five 
several animals, the effect of which is really most ludicrous. The 
heads are those of a leopard, a bear, a lion, a serpent, and a crocodile ; 
representing the various kingdoms which have flourished on the earth ; 
and from each head a crown is seen in the act of &11ing. On the 
neck of the foremost leopard sits the Pope, with a mitre on his head, 
and two horns of a lamb projecting from his temples I whilst mid- 
way between his Holiness and the other leopard's head, hovering ia 
mid -air, is seen a crown — the symbol of Constantinopolitan Rome. 

Such is the pictorial representation of the Apocalyptic symbol, which 
the volume before us was published to illustrate I Amid the multi- 
plicity of errors, absurdities, and contradictions with which it abounds, 
we can only stay to direct the reader's attention to the most glaring 
blunder of all, and which constitutes — miserabile diciu-^^ihe very 
foundation stone of the whole building ! The apostle John, after de- 
scribing the first ' beast with seven heads and ten horns, rising out of 
the sea' (Rev. xiii. v. 1), distinctly says that he ^beheld another 
beast coming up out of the earth ; and that he had two horns, as of a 
lamb.' (v. 11.) By some mysterious jugglery, however, Mr. Rabett 
has converted these two beasts into one ; pretending that the latter was 
only a subsequent manifestation of the former. It is most unfortunate 
for our author's theory, however, that the apostle represents the two 
beasts as co-EXtSTENf, and as performing certain acts towards one 
another. And how does the reader suppose that Mr. Rabett contrives 
to elude the plain reference of the prophecy to the fact of the twd 
beasts being contemporary ? He actually understands the word before 
in the passage, ' He exerciseth all the power of the first beast before 
him ' (v. 12), in the sense of previous to in point of time I We would 
just remind this gentleman that the word means in the presence of; 
that the Greek word corresponding to it is tyunrmv ; and that it never 
does, it never ' can mean before in the sense of antecedent. And 
before Mr. Rabett again ventures to write on the Apocalvpse we 
recommend that he should know something of the meaning of t&e words 
which he professes to explain. 

It remains only to add that the book is throughout characterized by 
similar blunders and absurdities, as well as by the most insufferable 
dc^matism, endless repetitions, and gross personal abuse of opponents. 
In short, we really wonder how a man in his right senses, who hai 
evidently taken pains with the work, could publish so sill j and worth* 
less a production. ^ W. E. T. 

N 2 Exposition 



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180 Notices of Books. [July, 

Exposition of the Gospel of St, Luke. By James Thomson, D.D. 
8vo. Edinburgh : A. and C, Black. 

This volame contains thirty-seven lectures, an introduction extending 
to fiflty-six pages, and a dissertation on the character of our Lord's 
miracles. All parts of the volume are of a marked character ; clear 
good sense, acuteness, and vigour of mind, originality and freshness of 
view, and sober piety pervade the whole. It is the work of a man who 
has read and observed much, who has thought and reasoned for him- 
self, whose reverence for the word of God has saved him from giving 
undue authority to the opinions of uninspired men, and whose book 
accordingly bears the clearest marks at once of independence and so- 
briety of mind ; and is highly original without any tinge of paradox. 

There are qualities united in this work which are seldom found in 
combination, because the union is difficult, and indeed impossible ex- 
cept to powerful and matured minds. In very few instances have we 
remark^ so successful a blending of plain practical teaching, level to 
the meanest capacity, with so much that is original, and that is fresh 
even when not strictly original. So that we can hardly imagine any 
conp^regation, however composed, that would not feel interest and profit 
in listening to such discourses, or any serious reader, whatever his 
education or his attainments, that would not peruse them with pleasure 
and advantage. 

The solidity of the matter and the simplicity and animation of the 
style render this a most entertaining religious book ; and as such we 
beg to recommend it cordially to those heads of femilies, who are 
desirous to instruct their households in Christian faith and duty with- 
out wearying them, B. L. 

Two Lectures on the Life and Writings of Maimonides. Delivered 
at the Jews' and General Literary and Scientific Institution. By 
Dr. A. Benisch. London : Wertheim, 1848. 8vo. pp. 62. 

Seeing how little is in this country known or imagined of the great 
extent and variety of the Jewish literature of our middle ages, we 
regard with much satisfaction attempts like this to promote a better 
knowledge of the great Jewish authors and writings of that period : . 
and it is our sincere hope that a man so well qualified as Dr. Benisch 
to impart this knowledge, will be encouraged in the undertaking which 
he has so auspiciously commenced with the work now before us. If so 
encouraged, he owes it to the honour of his nation £o proceed with 
his enterprise ; and Christian readers will have reason to be thankful 
for the information he is so well able to afford in that branch of what we 
may call literary history, the general ignorance of which, even among 
scholars, in this country, we must pronounce to be most gross and 
astonishing. 

It does happen, however, that concerning Maimonides we do possess 
more information, both as respects his life and writings, than of any 
other of the learned and accomplished Hebrews who adorned the 
period of which we speak. Some of his writings have been translated, 

and 



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T^ 



1849.] Notices of Books. 181 

and the leading facts of his life are ^miliar to most solid readers. 
Still there is much that will be new and suggestive, even to such, in 
these well -written and informing lectures of Dr. Benisch's. Such men 
as he might do much to redeem the later Jewish literature from the 
neglect with which it has been treated, and which it certainly does not 
merit. We can promise our readers much instruction and advantage 
from the perusal of the present work. Mairaonides was, as most of our 
readers know, a learned Arabo -Spanish Jew, who withdrew to Egypt at 
the age of thirty years, and spent at Cairo the remainder of a life of 
seventy years — part of that time as physician to Salah-ed-Deen (Sa- 
ladin), whom he survived. An account of his manner of life in the 
height of.his prosperity is on record from his own hand, in a letter to 
Rabbi Samuel Ebn Tibbon, of Marseilles ; who, when engaged in 
translating Maimonides's great work, the ' Moreh Nebuchim,' had 
expressed a design of going to Egypt, for the purpose of consulting 
the author personally on certain difficulties he had encountered. He 
writes : — 

' As- for thy wish to come to see me, thy visit will certainly gratify me verj 
much, although I shall have no leisure for scientific conversations, for I have very 
little time, as thou wilt hear. I live in Mizr (Fostat) and the kin^ in Cairo, and 1 
am obliged early every morning to repair to the royal court My visits to the mem- 
bers of the royal family last, though nobody be ill, till the afternoon. But if any- 
body is ill I do not leave at all. If the^ are well I return in the afternoon fatigued 
and faint, when I find all the gallenes filled by a multitude of patients of all 
classes, both Jews and Gentiles, distinguished and oonmion people, friends and 
enemies, who wait for my return. 

* I dismount from my horse, wash my hands, and go out to them requesting them 
to allow me a few minutes to take some nourishment The patients are then ad- 
mitted, and the inquiry into their complaints, with the prescription of remedies, 
extends two hours and even longer into night, when I grow so weak that 1 must lie 
down. The consequence of all this is that no Israelite can have an interview with 
me except on the Sabbath ; then come the whole congregation, to whom I give in- 
struction as to what they shall do during the week.*---(p. 11.) 

Previous to these lines, complaining of his want of time and habitual 
weakness, he says : — 

' And the Creator of the world knows in what manner I have written thee thi» 
epistle. I retire from men, withdrawing to a solitary place in order not to be in- 
terrupted. Sometimes I lean against the wall and write, and sometimes I lie down 
on account of my bodily weakness, for to my habitual debility old age has been 
superadded.' 

And yet, amidst all these fatigues and interruptions, Maimonides 
found leisure to compose the works which have rendered his name im- 
mortal in Jewish literature. These works are chiefly the Mishna 
Torah (recapitulation of the law), which was completed in 1180; and 
Moreh Nebuchim (Guide to the Perplexed), finished in 1 190. 
These works are thus characterized by Dr. Benisch : — 

' The former, written in pure and fiuent Hebrew, is a methodically arranged 
digest of the work known by the name of the Talmud : the latter (composed in his 
native tongue, Arabic), a theological philosophical work, is a profoundly conceived 
and skilfully accomplished attempt at illumining the obscurities of theology with 
the lamp of philosophy, and at defining the boundaries of philosophy by pointing 
out the landmarks of faith; in other words, it is an attempt at harmonizinc re* 

llgio^ 



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182 Notices of B<h*s. [July, 

ligioi^ M reyealed on Sinai with ih» Tiewa proyounded by philOBapliy. Whilst ttie 
former of these works will at all times remain indispensable to all who make th« 
knowledge of the Jewish law th^ir study, will be attentively read by such as wish 
to become acquainted with the final results of Talmudieai dissertations, without 
poisessing the prq[)ftratory knowledge, leisure, or patience necessary for pursuing 
the winding paths of Talmudieai intricacies ; whilst it will be ooosulted with advan- 
tage by such as wish for information on any point connected with Jewish antiqui- 
ties, practices, or customs»->the latter work will be perused with intense interest 
by theologians of all denominations engaged in congenial inquiries, and will be 
attentively studied by the historian of the development, wanderings, and ^t>gre89 
of the human mind.'-^(p« 13.) 

Besides these, Maimonides was the author of many other works, 
rabbinical, philosophical, medical, and miscellaneous ; a complete list 
of which is given at the end of the present book. They were all 
written, not in the Hebrew, but in the Arabic. Dr. Benisch gives a 
very interesting account of the nature of the movement which the 
Moreh Nebuchim caused after the writer's death ; and describes the 
very important effects which it produced upon the Jewish mind. * This 
remarkable work operated as a ferment upon the torpid mass of the 
Jews, who, actuated by principles similar to those which prostrated 
the liberty pf Christendom before the Holy See, were ready to settle 
down with erroneous views and untenable principles. It further gave 
a moral sanction to inquiries, originated works of similar tendencies^ 
and thus contributed largely towards preserving Jewish literature from 
fiilling entirely into the one-sided direction pursued by its most eminent 
cultivators in their exclusive Talmudieai study.* 

Sketch of the Scripture Doctrine respectirig Good AngeU* By the 
Rev. Alexander S. Patterson. Glasgow : Bryce, 1848, 
12mo« pp. 32. 

This essay furnishes the reader, in a compendious form, with a con^- 
siderable body of well-digested information on the subject of which it 
treats. That subject is always one of much interest, although it has 
engaged so much less attention recently than in former periods, that 
not a few even of good students may perhaps run away with the notion 
that even a small tract like this exhausts the subject, and that there is 
nothing more to be thought or said thereon. Such may be remarked 
of the abstruse and minute speculations of the Angelical Doctor, and of 
the scarcely less elaborate investigations of our seventeenth century 
divines, who seem to have found something peculiarly congenial to 
their tastes in this kind of Investigation. We do not aifect to be well 
versed in angelical literature ; but we happen to have before us at this 
moment an entire volume devoted to the subject, of which we may 
some day be disposed to furnish an account. It was published in 1701, 
without the author's name in the book, although the binding has the 
title of ' Saunders's Angels.' The full title is * Pneumatolwjiia ; or a 
JXscourse of AngelSy their Nature and Office , or Ministry ; ' but not 
the full title, which is tremendously lengthy. Authors, in those days, 
had the enviable advantage of sending forth their works re^dy reviewed 
by some friendly hand, whose remarks and commendations were pre- 
fixed 



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1849.] N&tiees of Books. 183 

fbed in a pre&ce or address to *• the courteous reader.' Id the present 
case this office is performed by a ^ George Hamond ; * who tells us 
that ^before this learned and useful treatise was suffered to walk 
abroad/ he had been shown a copy, and requested to set f<Hth his 
opini(m. This he does with good sense and judgment, fiironring us 
with some hints as to the causes of that neglect into which, as he says, 
the doctrine of angels had even tlien fallen. If he thought so then, 
how much more cause have we to think so now ? The causes which this 
writer finds for this neglect are :— - 

' 1. The bold,^ confident, and curions specatations touching the angels, both m 
elder %ime8 and in tfae dajs of the schoolmen, who intruded into things not seen, 
yainly puffed up by their, fleshly minds. 2. The irreligioansss and sospticism of 
materialists and Saddueees, who deny of pretend to doubt whether thert are indeed 

any immaterial beings.' 

Of the author of the book itself, this critic says he was * of a solid 
judgment and inde&tigable judgpnaent in searching after what was to b« 
found in other authors that might furnish any light or furniture to him 
towards the perfecting of his composure ; so that, as &r as rery short* 
sighted intelligence will reach, I must esteem this Discourse to be thtf 
most full, chaste^ and elaborate of any upon this subject ; especially 
such as are extant in our language.' if this was true 150 yean ago, 
as we think it to be, it is true now ; and as it is always useful to a 
student to know what is the best book on any subject, some of out 
readers will be thankful for his information. 

Sacred Latin Poetry ^ chiefly Lyrical } selected and arranged for use^ 
with Notes and Introduction. By Eichabd Chenevix Trench, 
M.A. London : John W. Parker, 1849. 12mo. pp. 336. 

The editor of this work informs us that its aim is ' to offer to the 
members of our English church a collection of the best sacied Latin 
poetry, such as they shall be able entirely and heartily to sympathise 
with and approve; a collection, that is, in which they shall not be 
evermore liable to be offended : and to have the current of their sym- 
pathies cheeked by coming upon that which, however beautiful as 
poetry, m higher respects they must reject and condemn.' 

The care thus taken to exclude whatever bears the special marks of 
Romish doctrine, has necessarily operated to the exclusion of some 
Latin hymns of high poetical character; though many, from a 
vague impression as to the essentially Popish character of all these 
compositions, will be surprised to see how large a number of the finest 
and most £unous examples of this class of poetry pass the ordeal safely, 
and have foand a place in the present collection. The literate pul^ 
owes thanks to the editor for having brought together into a collected 
form so many poems of this class, many of which are only to be fbund, 
one here and one there, in costly editions of the Fathers or mecHseval 
writers, or in collections of the very rarest occurrence. * The ex- 
treme diflficulty I have myself experienced,' says Mr. Trench, * in 
obtaining several of the books which I desired to use, and the necessity 

under 



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184 Notices of Booki. [July, 

under which I have remained of altogether foregoing the use of many 
that I would gladly have consulted, has suffi^ently shown me how 
little obvious th^ can be to most readers.' 

The poems in this collection are not arranged in chronological but 
in theological order, by which they may be said to be combined into 
one grand poem, and are rendered most available for perusal and de- 
votional use. The pieces are seventy-one in number, and afford speci- 
mens of twenty-three known and of some anonymous writers. There 
are short but satis&ctory notices of most of these writers ; and the 
poems are furnished with notes theological, critical, and illustrative, 
by which the value of the volume will be very materially enhanced by 
those who acquire possession of it. 

There is an Introduction, in which the author discusses at some 
length the Latin poetry of the Christian church. He traces the process 
by which it detached itself gradually more and more from the classical 
poetry of Rome, and eventually acquired a peculiar character, as 
distinct in the nature of its subjects as in the form of its verse. Tiiis 
was the result of two distinct processes : the first, the disintegration of 
the old prosodical system of Latin verse, under the gradual substitution 
of accent for quantity; and the second, the employment of rhyme 
within or at the close of the verse as a mean for marking rhythm, and 
as a resource for the producing of melody. Here it is shown at large 
how the coming up of the new Faith, of which it in no long time 
became the public organ, gave to the Latin language a new lease of 
life, and evoked from it capacities which had hitherto been dormant in 
it. So, in speaking in his biographical notice of ' Prudentius,' of the 
censure passed upon his style (as not formed upon the best classical 
models, but as being confessedly impure) in a recent publication, Mr. 
Trench remarks : — 

* This is really his praise, — that whether consciously or unconsciously, he did 
act on the principle that the new life claimed new forms in which to manifest 
itself, — that he did not shrink from helping forward that great transformation of 
the Latin language, which it had need to undergo, now that it was to be the vehicle 
of new truths which were altogether novel to it, having not yet risen up above the 
horizon of men's minds, at the time when it was in its first growth and formation. 
Let any one compare his poems with those of Juvencns or Sedullns, and his vast 
superiority will be at once manifest — ^that superiority mainly consisting in this, 
that he did not attempt, as they did, to pour the new wine into old bottles ; but has 
felt and understood that the new thoughts and feelings which Christianity has 
brought into the world, must of necessity weave new garments for themselves.' 

Mr. Trench will not allow the notion that the poetry of modem 
Europe derived its rhyme from the Latin ; and he equally repudiates 
the supposition that the Latin rhyming verse borrowed its rhyme 
from the Romance or Gothic languages. There is quite enough 
in the remains of early Latin poetry which we possess to show 
that rhyme was not a new element, and one altogether alien to the 
language which was brought into it by the Christian poets in the days 
of its decline. These were early preludings of that which should 
indeed only fully and systemalically unfold itself at the last. The 
tendendes of the Satumian verse and of the other fragments of the 

ancient 



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1849.] Notices of Books. 185 

• 

ancient Latin poetry which have reached us, to terminations of a like 
sound, have been often noticed. Of that poetry rhyme was indeed a 
legitimate ornament ; and even after a system had been introduced, 
resting on entirely different principles, — namely, the system of Greek 
metres— yet was it so inborn in the language, and so inherent in it, 
that it continually made its appearance ; being, no doubt, only with 
difficulty avoided by those writers whose purer and austerer sense of 
beauty taught them not to catch at ornaments which were not properly 
theirs ; and easily found by those who with a more questionable task 
saw in it one of me resources at their command. There occur, indeed, 
examples of final rhymes in the best Latin poets, and of both middle 
and final rhymes in every one of them. Of these our author gives a 
small collection, which might be much extended. This Introductory 
Essay, as a whole, is well worthy the attention of those who feel 
interest in the important literary questions involved ; while the hymns 
themselves will not fail to afford much pleasure and refreshment to the 
class of readers for whom the collection is designed. 

Jonah : his Life, Charactery and Mission, vietaed in connection with 
the Prophet's own Times, and Future Manifestations of God's Mind 
and Will in Prophecy. By the Rev. Patrick Fairbairn. Edin- 
burgh: John Johnstone. 1849. 12mo. pp.245. 

We have no hesitation in describing this as one of the best books of its 
class that we have met with. It is the work of a ripe student in Bib- 
lical literature, and contains the depth, the research, the learning which 
is only to be found where this qualification exists. These properties 
are however rather latent in the pages of this small volume, than ob- 
truded in its front — being seen rather in the results than in the pro- 
cesses of investigation and of thought. The work strikes out points 
of view and matters of contemplation which are not obvious on the 
surface of the matter, and which impart much newness to the treat- 
ment of a subject that might have seemed well nigh exhausted. The 
tone of the work is friendly to the character of Jonah — we might say 
vindicatory ; but, as the author observes, the work is not to be regarded 
simply, or even chiefly, in the light of a vindication. ' The aim rather 
has been to give a clear and just representation of the times of the 
prophet — of the nature and design of the singular mission he was ap- 
pointed to fulfil, and of the varied instruction which is furnished to 
believers of every age by the mission itself and the manner in which it 
was discharged.' 

Most readers will be anxious to see how Mr. Fairbairn accounts for 
Jonah's displeasure at the preservation of Nineveh. He stoutly vindi- 
cates him from the common imputation — ^that his self- esteem rendered 
him indignant — that the doom he had been sent to utter was not accom- 
plished, lest he should be accounted a lying prophet. Our author 
contrariwise contends that Jonah's mission is to be viewed not as an 
ultimate thing, but as occupying the relation of means to an end — 
as connected with some other object of pre-eminent importance, to 

which 



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186 Notices of Books. [July, 

which he thought it should have been made altogether subBeirient. 
That object, he conceites, was the instruction and warning of IsraeL 
by the terrible overthrow of Nineveh — and the vexation of the prophet 
arose from the advantage of that example of the Lord's judgments 
being lost to the Israelites at a time when, as it seemed to him, it wa» 
so greatly needed. He could not, as he liad expected, go bade to his 
labours among his own people, with this great argfument against im- 
penitence. 

* What hope could he any longer have of laboanng with snceess among them ? 
How certunly would they look to the oatward result merely of the case, and take 



new courage to go on iu their sins, hy this new manifestation of the mercy and 
forbearance of God ? Instead of having reached a higher vantage ground, from 
which to urge their return to God, he felt as if a signal disconrasement had been 



thrown in his way ; and it seemed now that nothing more remained for him to say 
or do — it were even better for him to die than to live.* — (p. 167.) 

This view of the case is worked out with much force and skill, and 
will no doubt receive due attention from future commentators. 

In one of the ^ Supplementary Remarks,' or dissertations, Mr. Fair- 
bairn writes ' on the dependence of evil and good in prophecy upon the 
spiritual conditi<Hi of the persons interested in its tidings.' Here, he 
in particular examines the prophecies concerning Edom, and argues 
that all of them were accomplished before the time of Christ, for 
by that time the relation which the predictions contemplated (of intense 
malignity and opposition to the cause of Grod's people) had already 
ceasai ; the Edomites had become amalgamated with the Jews, and no 
longer existed as a separate people — ^they had passed out of the region 
in which the prophecy moved, and a different state of things had en- 
tered. On this view, in which we fully acquiesce, our author adminis- 
ters a fair rebuke to Dr. Keith and other writers on prophecy » who 
exclude these considerations from their mind. 

* ThejT accumulate proo& of the yrtsent desolation of Idumca, as siti^iciter 
evincing the correctness of Isaiah's prophecy, as if it had been the mere territory 
of £dom» the region of Idnmea, and not rather Edom as a people, and the land 
only as connected with them. What has that land to do now, or what has it had to 
do for two thousand years with the Edomites, the peculiar enemies of God ?*— Tp. 
917, note,) 

There is much more in this fine work to which we should like to 
refer, but are constrained to forbear. "We pronounce it to be a 
thoughtful, judicious, and sterling book ; and we feel that we render 
our readers a service in directing their attention to it. 

Essays on Histot-y^ Philosophy^ and Theology. By Robert Vau^an, 
D.D. London : Jackson and Walford. 2 vols. 16mo. 
These Essays are selected from articles contributed by the writer to 
the British Quarterly Review, of which he is Editor. As such they 
are scarcely further within our province than to record the fact of theit 
separate publication. They are most of them fully worthy the repu- 
tation of Dr. Yaughan, and well exemplify his vigorous style and 
original habits of thought. He comes out strong — stroMger than we 

should 



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1849.] Notices (f Books. 187 

should hare expeoted— -against the German philosophy, between which 
and revealed religion he believes any real harmony to be impossible, 
and that the only natural relation between these forces is antagonistic. 
This is most true ; but Dr. Yaughan seems to find less of hope than 
we do in the probable infiuence of that morsel of evangelical leaven 
^hich is for the present all but hidden in three oveasures of meal. A 
portion of the writer's views on this subject are exhibited in the re- 
markable paper called ^ The Priesthood of Letters.' The doctrine set 
forth here is, that the pulpit has ceased to be the great teacher. The 
press has assumed that function ; and even Irom the press the divine 
performs a much less conspicuous part than the man of letters. Thus 
the era of a new priesthood — the priesthood of letters — has cotne, and 
must, fh>m the nature of things, remain. ^ The clerical mind» we 
distinctly see, is no longer ascendant in £ttr<^, it la subordinate : the 
laic mind is no longer subordinate, it is ascendant.' 

Of the other Essays, there are Oxford and Evangelical ChurchmeB 
— Characteristics of Dissent— >John Foster and Robert Ball — Oliver 
Cromwell — Locke and his Critics— and the Christian Ministry^ are all 
of high interest from the facts they state, or from the views and 
thoughts they embody. In ^ Oliver CromweU/ Dr. Yaughan is the* 
roughly at home, and handles Thomas Carlyle with a polite roughness^ 
not inconsistent with a just appreciation of the peculiar talents of that 
remarkable writer. 

ISTITENEI A. A IHspassionaie Appeal to the Judgment of the Clergp 
of the Church of England on the proposed Alteration of the Law of 
MafTtage. London : Charles Cox. 1849. dvo. pp. 45. 

This is one of an immense number of pamphlets which have appeared 
within the last few months, upon a subject which bow engages the 
attention of the Legislature — the lawfulness and expediency of marry- 
ing a deceased wife's sister. This is, in its substance, a summary of 
the arguments on both sides of the question ; and it seems to us a 
skilful and impartial one. The pamphlet must therefore be of use to 
those who wish to see the bearings of the question, «and the arguments 
pro and con, reduced to a small compass. In the preface, the compiler 
makes it no secret that his own views are in favour of the abrogation 
of the Act by which such marriages are declared unlawful. We, for 
our own part, never had any doubt on the subject — ^so far as the scrip- 
tural argument is concerned. The argument is, there at least, all on 
the side of those who contend for the lawfulness of such marriages. 
There Mants no new hand in this exhausted controversy, or we might 
be disposed to set forth our own views at length. The present writer 
allows just weight to the testimony of Dr. Adler, the chief Eabbf. 
The tendency of Judaism is rather to overstrain than to mitigate the 
enactments of the law of Moses ; and in any cases a law of doubtful 
meanings may be interpreted by custom — that is by the usage of those 
who are subject to it *-and by Dr. Adler's testimony it appears that the 
lawfulness of such marrtagea has never been questioned by the Jews^ 

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188 Notices of Books. [July, 

and that in practice ^ sucli a marriage, so far from exposing the parties 
to any reproach, is considered proper and even laudable/ , 

A Selection from his Grace the ArchhisJuyp of Canterbury's Practiced 
Exposition of the Gospels, of those parts more particularly which 
relate to the Faith and Practice of a Christian. By the Rev. 
George Wilkinson, B.D. London: C. Cox. 1849. 12mo. pp.203. 

A selection from the works of a living divine by any other than the 
author himself, is, as the present editor remarks, a very unusi|al event. 
It originated in a suggestion which he made to his diocesan (then 
Bishop of Chester) that ' a selection from the four volumes of the Gk)6- 
pels, adapted to the means and opportunities of numbers for whom the 
larger work might not seem so well adapted, would be invaluable.' 
The Bishop intimated a ready acquiescence in any plan by which his 
writings might be rendered more extensively conducive to the spiritual 
welfare of the conmiunity, and his free consent that they might be 
forthwith used for the purpose pointed out. Thus authorized, Mr. 
Wilkinson set to work, and we have here the result of his labours in a 
small and very valuable volume. There is little in it to suggest its 
relation to the original work, the use of which it is certainly in no 
degree likely to supersede. The Archbishop takes the gospels in 
regular order ; but of the two parts of which this lesser work consists, 
Mr. Wilkinson takes, in the first, certain prominent facts and teachings, 
and may be said to have founded it chiefly on the gospel of St. John ; 
and the second portion is wholly devoted to the sermon on the Mount. 
This is therefore not what we would call an abridgment ; neither is it 
a selection ; for the editor very often takes the ideas without the words 
of the author, and very often expands them to three or four times 
their original extent, as is particularly observable in the second portion, 
where the editor seems to follow no determinate rule — sometimes he 
adheres closely enough to his author — sometimes adds his own remarks 
to, or interlaces them with those of the author ; and sometimes forsakes 
his author altogether, and expresses the same leading ideas in other 
words and with new illustrations. Upon the whole, although it is open 
to question whether Mr. Wilkinson might not have produced a better 
book if he had followed his author more entirely, on the one hand, or 
had prepared it entirely from his own resources on the other — he must 
be allowed to have produced a useful manual, likely to be acceptable to 
those for whom it is intended. It is one of that class of books which 
plain, serious people like. 

A brief Commentary, Analytical, JlSxegetical, and Practiced, on the 
Epistles of St. Paul to Timothy and Titus. By the Eev. Alex- 
ander S. Iraterson. Edinburgh: Lowe. 1848. 18mo. pp. 184. 

The author of this little work is known for similar small commentaries 
on, the first Epistle of John and first of Thessalonians, and the success 
of these seems to have encouraged him to proceed. The size of the 

volume 



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1849.] Notices of Books. 189 

volume being that most common to children's books, would scarcely 
prepare one for the amount of unobtrusive erudition and sound exegesis 
he has contrived to pack into it. It is anything but a superficial book ; 
and it appears to be well calculated to serve the object for which it is 
designed. It originates in the idea that a small work on the pastoral 
epistles, ' constructed on strict principles of ex^esis, and yet unfolding 
in a practical form the meaning and import of these precious letters, 
might serve as a useful text-book both to ministers and people.' Not- 
withstanding the extraordinary conciseness which is the characteristic 
of the !|ork, he expatiates considerably on certain important or &- 
vourite texts, and always with good effect. This agreeably relieves 
the dreariness which might have been the result of unmitigated brevity 
throughout. Upon the whole, Mr. Paterson has very creditably per- 
formed a somewhat difficult task ; and those who can overcome the 
prejudice against a very small book on a very large subject will by no 
means lose their reward. 



BIBLICAL INTELLIGENCE. 



Neander and Tholuck. — We have much pleasure in presenting in this portioo 
of our pages the following interesting communication respecting these eminent and 
remarkable men, which lately appeared (under the signature of Sigma) in the 
foreign correspondence of the New York Courier and Enquirer^ and was reprinted 
in that excellent American journal The Literary Worlds whence we transcribe it. 
The particulars given are of especial interest at this time : — 

* Berlin^ March, 1849. — 1 had the opportunity the other day of seeing the cele- 
brated Professor Neander. I first went in the morning to the University to hear 
him deliver an exegetical lecture, upon a chapter in the New Testament. His per- 
sonal appearance was as singular as his mode of addressing his audience was extra* 
ordinary. His forehead, broad and high, was almost wholly covered bj his long 
uncombed black hair, and its base was bounded by a massive ridge, jutting fax 
outwards, and surrounded by thick shaggy eyebrows. His eyes were so deeply 
sunken, and concealed by his half-cl<$6ed eyelids, that neither their colour nor their 
form was discernible. His nose and his mouth were rudely shaped, and his oodi- 
plexion was of that dark, dry, sallow cast, that mark years of intense study and 
reflection. His form was thin, bent, and loosely knit, and his carriage and atti- 
tude the most careless and graceless possible. He had on a white cravat, and a 
greyish frock coat reaching below his knees. Fancy such a man, standing on a 
slightly elevated platform, his left arm resting ou the corner of a desk four feet 
high, his left hand shading his eyes from the light, his right hand holdine within 
three or four inches of his face a large-typed Greek Testament, from which he 
never withdraws his intense look — and further, fancy him with the whole upper 
half of his person bent over in an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, balancing the 
desk upon its two back legs, and with his left foot kept constantly crossed over his 
rieht, except when occasionally, either through caprice or to restore the equilibrium 
of the desk, he suddenly retracts it as if a^ut to take a desperate leap, and as 
suddenly replaces it — and still further, fiincy him perfectly absorbed in his subject, 
and speaking with a slow monotonous utterance, interrupted only by a pause when 
he has to ask from one of the students a woVd which he cannot recognize op accoimt 
of imperfect sight — and you have a fiiithful picture of the most philosophical his- 
torian 



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190 Biblical Intelligence. [July, 

torian and perhaps moat profiMuidtheologiaii living, in rapportemeni with his yonng 
disciples. When his instructions are not exegetical, ana do not require a boolCf 
you will have to vary the picture by imagining him lecturing extemporaneously^ 
and all the while engaged in pulling to pieces a quill previously given him by one 
of his attendants for this special purpose. I mention these things to interest but 
not to divert you ; for it is only a narrow and vulgar mind that can find in the 
infirmities or eccentricities of a great man matter for ridicule. Notwithstanding 
all of his peculiarities, the students, of whom there were some sixty or seventy 
present, seemed to regard him with a reverence approaching to homage, and to 
catch as treasure every word that f^ll fh)m his lips. 

* After dinner, in company with one of the students, I called upon Neander at 
his residence. We found him in his study robed in his study gown, and surrounded 
with a large library of well-worn books. He received us with the most unaffected 
kindness and warmth, and directly began to talk with me in my native tongue. 
He spoke English with tolerable correctness and facility, but as is the case with 
most foreign scholars, he had a much better command of the Latin than of the 
Saxon element of our language. He highly commended Professor Robinson's 
American work on Palestine, and also our Andover Quarterly, the Bibliotheca 
Sacra, several numbers of which 1 noticed in his library. He spoke in terms of 
high praise of Coleridge and Dr. Arnold, and referred with great satisfaction to 
the little progress that Pantheism has made in the western world. His whole soul 
seemed to be wrapped up in the great struggle now goinff on between faith and 
unbelief^ between supematuralism and rationalism — a battle, he said, fraught with 
more momentous consequences than any other of the age. Vast as are this great 
man's acquirements, and capacious and profound as is his intellect, every word 
and every movement evinced complete unconsciousness of self, and a perfectly 
child-like gentleness and simplicity of heart Uncultivated as are his manners, 
and odd as are his ways, by his greatness he commands your reverence, and by his 
goodness he wins your love. 

' Neander is sixty years of age ; he is a bachelor, and his sister is housekeeper. 
Two years ago, he suddenly and without anv apparent immediate cause, almost 
entirely lost his eyesight ; he now sees so indistinctly that it is imprudent for him 
to venture into the street alone. Yet he daily delivers at the University three 
lectures, each an hour in length, one on Church History, another on Christian 
Ethics, and the third of an exegetical character. He pursues his studies and re- 
searches with the help of a little knot of students he keeps around him, and he 
dictates all of his written productions to an amanuensis. His Church History, the 
first part of which has been so admirably translated by Professor Torrey of the 
University of Vermont, has not yet been brought down later than the fourteenth 
century. Had his eyes continued good, it would before this time have been fUlly 
completed. It is now uncertain, as I was told by the author, when the work in its 
entire form will be given to the world. Neander lives a very retired life in 
Berlin, and yet he is exceedingly popular. Tobacco-pipes bear his likeness, an 
Important street in the city is named after him, and his last birthday was celebrated 
by a torchlight procession. 

* While in Halle, I spent an hour or two wltli Professor Tholuck. On a bright 
spring morning 1 found him wrapped in his overcoat, and walking in the long 
sheltered promenade that bounded one side of his garden. Returning my letters 
of introduction unopened, he at once received me with that unceremonious fami« 
liarity that German scholars so uniformly exhibit towards strangers. He spoke 
with interest of the many dear fViends he had in America, and soon showed him- 
self very conservant with our national institutions and characteristics. He re- 
marked that during the late political disturbances he long expected to be obliged 
to take reftige in the United States or England, from revolutionary violence, ne 
thought the revolutionary party of Germany unworthy of confidence or sympathy, 
believing that it was generally made up of infidels and socialists, and that it was 
actuated not so much by hostility to any particular form of government as by oppo- 
sition to every reasonable kind of government whatever. He feared that its success 
would result in the destruction of the Universities, and in the prostration of every- 
thing religious and redeeming in the llnd. The complete divorce of the Church 

fh>m 



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1849.] Biblical InteUigmee. 191 

iVom the State, established by the new C<mstitatioii« he had no doabt, by destroying 
Protestant unity, and affording free seope to Boman Catholic proselytism, woald 
redonnd ^atly to the adTantage of the ehnrch of liome. It was bis opinion that 
metaphysical specnlatioa had, for the present at least, pretty much exhausted itself 
in Germany ; for the last two or three years Hegelianism had made no progress, 
nor in fact any other ism, except indifferentism. The so called Reformed German 
Catholics were ikst diminiriiing and would soon disappear, some becoming Protes- 
tant Lutherans, but most rationalists and infidels. Ronge himself had cut loose 
from all reli^os and moral restraints, and was now living the life of an aban- 
dcgoed libertine. Doviat, the coadjutor of Ronge, had been imprisoned for sedition, 
and had lately published an avowal that he and his party had only made religion a 
mask under which they might work out their political schemes; and Czershe, 
though a good man, was weak and wavering. 1 mention these things because I 
believe that upon these important matters the views of a man so calm and discern- 
ing, and occupying so commanding a position as Professor Tholuck, are entitled to 
great respect, if not implicit confidence. To inquiries respecting his health, he 
replied that it had been greatly injured by his labours at the meeting of the Evan- 
^lical Alliance in Ijondon. He observed that it did not become the earnest but 
inefficient Germans to complain of the business-like mechanical mode of conducting 
such meetings in England, but yet if the convention had had more spontaneousness 
and less madiinery, if it had been more a reunion and less a parliament, it would 
have been more agreeable to the delegates from Germany. Like Neander, he ex*- 
pressed great admiration of Coleridge ; and yet he lauded the English and Ameri- 
cans for their practical disposition and habits. Speaking of the various English 
translations of his works, he remarked that he liked the translation of some of his 
sermons by Professor Park, of Andover, better than the original— the English 
dress seemed to give additional power and majesty to the ideas. Before we parted, 
he invited me to repur to his study and record my name in his book. As my ere 
fell when I entered, upon a touching Ecce Homo on one side of the room, and the 
countenance of Martin Luther, that never quailed before mortal man on the other, 
I could not but recognize the spirit of the man in his " outward environments." Of 
his own accord he gave me notes of introduction to other eminent scholars resident 
elsewhere. I can hardly help being surprised at the interest and kindness which 
this distinguished man manifested towards a ^oung unknown American. Since I 
have been in Europe, I have witnessed terrible scenes, that have been branded 
as with fire upon my soul; but these will be worn away long before my in- 
terviews with Wordsworth, Neander, and Tholuck 'cease to be green in my 
memory. 

' Professor Tholuck is a small, well-built man, with chestnut hair, light eyes, a 
somewhat wrinkled face, and a mild, thoughtful cast of features. He is about 
fifty years of age— is very near-sighted, and yet, like Neander, does not use spec- 
tacles. He has almost entirely relin(iuished writing ; his labours now are chiefly 
confined to the delivery of two lectures daily, at the University. He speaks English 
with great readiness and propriety, and yet, as he told me, it is with difficulty that 
he comprehends Shakspeare in the original. The number of theological students 
now at Halle is about 400 ; the catalogue has very considerably decreased since 
last year's political disturbances.' 

The Independents have for man^ years supported, in the neighbourhood of the 
metropolis, three separate institutions for the education, especially, of theological 
students, namely, Homerton, Highbury, and Coward Colleges ; but the trustees and 
committees of these institutions have resolved to unite the three, so as to form one 
efficient college, with a larger staff of professors than was connected with the older 
colleges, and with a more extended course of study in the various branches of 
theology, literature, and science. An eligible piece of ^und has been purchased 
for the site of the new college, in St. John's Wood, and it is expected that the new 
building will be completed by the autumn of next year. — Inquirer. 

Among works announced as in the press, we see one under the title of Israel and 
the Gentiles : Contributions to the History o/* the Jews from the earliest times to the 
present day, by Dr. Isaac de Costa of Amsterdam. 

Damascus, 



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192 Biblical Intelligence. [July, 

Danuucus, — At a recent meeting of the American Ethnographical Society, letters 
vere read by Professor Robinson from the Rev. Eli Smith and the Hev. W. 
Thomson^the latter giving an interesting account of his explorations in and about 
Damascus and other parts of Syria. He observes that there are more extensive 
remains of antiquity in Damascus than are generally knovn ; and proceeds to give 
a vivid description of one of them. This is an immense building, which he de- 
scribes minutely ; it is built of heavy stone, seventy paces long on the south side, 
with a door in the centre ; and on the west side it is at present seventy paces in 
length. Mr. Thomson also gives an entertaining narrative of the different stages of 
his journey, with delineations of the nature of the country. — New Ym-k Literary 
World. 

American Professors. — ^The multifarious duties of a Professor of an American 
College may be seen from an item of news in a New York paper : the Rev. J. W. 
M*Cullogh, D.D., Rector of St. John's Church, Lafayette, Ind., having accepted 
the Professorship of Belles Lettres, Mental Philosophy, and Geology, at West 
Tennessee College, at Jackson, in that State ; and also the Rectorship of St Luke'- 
Church in that place, has changed his residence accordingly. 

A Bibliographical Catalogue of the books, translations of the Scriptures, at 
other publications in the Indian tongues of the United States has just been prepared 
by Henry R. Schoolcraft, Esq. of the Indian Bureau. It is intended to denote the 
progress which has been made in this department of inquiry. 

We are glad to find that Dr. Robinson of New York has at length issued the third 
edition of his translation of Gesenius's Hebrew Lexicon. It has not yet reached 
us, but we hope to introduce it more formally in the next Number of the Journal. 

A new monthly publication, to be called the Shield (f the Churchy is about to be 
commenced in the United States, with the primary object of guarding the episcopal 
congregations against the Tractarian principles which appear to be gaining ground 
alarmingly among them. 

CalvirCs Sermons. — In an American work, Monograph on the Moral Sense, by 
Dr. J. A. ^mith, the following statement respectmg Calvin's sermons is given on 
the authority of Senebier^s JStstoire Litt^rairede Geneve^ 1876. — 'It appears that 
in about the twenty years he ruled Geneva, Calvin preached nearly two thousand 
sermons. Of these some twenty have been published, while of the remainder the 
texts only have been preserved. And of a truth, wiA two, and only two barely 
possible •exceptions, these texts are remarkable. 



Genesis . . 


. 123 


Ezra . . 


. . 65 


Acts 


... 189 


Deuteronomy , 


. 200 


Joel • . . 


. . 17 


St. Paul- 


-1 Corinth. 110 


Job ... 


. 59 


Amos . . 


. . 43 




2 Corinth. 66 


Psalms . . . 


. 94 


Obadiah . . 


. . 5 




Galatians 43 


Isaiah • . « 


91 


Jonah . ., 


. . 6 




Thessalon. 46 


Jeremiah . . , 


25 


Micah . . 


. . 28 




1 Timothy 55 


Ezekiel . . . 


174 


Zephauiah • 


. . 17 




2 Timothy 31 


Daniel , . . , 


47 








Titus . . 48 



* Nineteen hundred and twenty-five sermons, and not one of them from either of 
the Gospels V 

For our parts, we suspect the list to be imperfect, as it stands. If it be perfect, the 
inference to the disadvantage of Calvin, which Dr. Smith means to show from the 
omission of texts from the Gospels, may be neutralized by observing that there are 
none from the Romans, from the Hebrews, nor from the Epistles of John, all of 
which might be expected to furnish favourite texts to Calvin. It is really much 
more surprising that there are no texts from the Romans than that there are none 
from the Gospels. 

We have heard with pleasure that the Rev. Thomas Gordon is engaged in the 
translation of Wieseler's excellent work on the * Chronology of the Apostolic Age 
to the Death of the Apostles Paul and Peter.* {Chronologie der Apostolischen 
Zeitalters bis zum Tode der Apostel Paulus und Petrus.) This, if well executed, will 
be a valuable addition to our chronological literature. 

Dr. 



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1849.] Biblical MeUigence. 193 

Dr. A. BeniBch is preparing fbr the press * The Pentateach, Hebrew and English 
(indudiog the Haftorahs), being the first part of a Jewish Family and School 
&ible, translated from tlie original Hebrew/ The prospectus alleges the necessity 
of a Jewish version, not only on the common grounds urged by Jews as to the 
Christian character of the Authorized yersion, but that * The Anglican version 
having been executed more than two centuries affo, the translators could not reflect 
upon It that light which the profound researches of so many ages have since 
abundantly thrown upon the snbiects treated in the Bible, and whereby its compre- 
hension is wonderfully facilitated.' 

Booksellers seem to have become increasingly sensible of the importance to their 
customers and themselves of classed catalogues of books. There is no branch of 
literature in which these are of so much importance as in biblical literature ; and 
we therefore feel bound to notice a very ezoellent volume lately issued by Mr. C. J. 
{t Stewart, of King William Street, Strand, under the title of * A Catalogue of Bibles 
and Biblical Literature.' It is exceedingly well arranged, and will afford im- 
. portant facilities to those in search of books in particular departments of Sacred 
-^literature. The classification is fUrther aided by an analytical table of contents, 
* and alphabetical indices of subjects and authors. The preparation of such cata- 
logues is a work of expense and labour, but must be well repaid by the fibcilitiet 
afforded to purchasers. The fiinlt of all sale catalogues is, however, that they 
embrace only the works in the stock of the particular bookseller. A catalogs 
embracing all the works in every department of biblical literature would be 
invaluable ; and we are exceedingly fflad to learn that something of the kind it 
in advanced preparation by Mr. Darung, of the Clerical Library, Little Queen 
Street 

Many of our readers who feel interest in the Waldenses will hear with pleasure 
that a monthly publication has been commenced among them under the title VEchit 
dea VcUUiu, FeuiUe mentuelU, spkdaUtMnt eonmcr^e avut itU^rHs d» la famiUe 
Vaudoite. 

German Univerntie$. — During the last winter half year, the number of students 
in the Berlin University was 1182, of whom 190 were of the theological fiumlty. 
In Halle the students were 697, in the theological faculty 374. In Koni|^berg 
the students were 318, of whom the theological fhculty had 60. In Leipaig the 
students were 928, in theology 225. In Heidelberg 609 students, in theology 60. 
In Erlangai 441 students, in theology 182, 

Saxont. — The actual population of this kinffdom is stated in the AUgemnme 
Kirckmi Zeitung for March 27, as 1,836,433; of whom 1,799,121 are Lutherans, 
2524 Calvinists, 32,544 Roman Catholics, 1098 German Catholics, 118 Greeks, 
988 Jews, 45 Anglicans, 1 Mennonite. 

Belgium. — It is stated, by the most recent accounts, that the population of this 
country is 4,200,000, tiie great balk of whom are Roman Catholics. The Protes* 
tants are but 16,000 ; and Uiere aiv 80,000 Jews. 

Netherlands.— According to tke KeUholigcken HaUdbueh for 1849, the popu- 
lation of the NetherbindB on January 1, 1847, comprised 1^34,513 Protestants, 
1,171,910 Catholics, and 55,800 Jews. This may surprise those who have been in 
the habit of regarding Holland as almost entirely Protestant The foreign posses- 
sions of Holland are on the same authority stated to contain abovt ISA millions of 
souls, of whom 70,000 are Christians, indading 31,000 Catholics. The pastoral 
charge for the Netherlands (both Protestant and Catholic, we presume) is eom- 
mitted to 1471 ministers in Enro|»e» and 29 in the tranaaarine possessions. 

JERUBALEM.-^It seetts that the banal sqaabbles between the Greeks and Latbs 
have acquired unusual vehemence of late by reason of the coercive measures 
adopted by the Greek patriarch Cyril agidnst the peasantry attached to the Latin 
communion. In the fulness of power, and sale unaer Russian protection, he incar- 
cerates and beats these poor people at his will — treating with complete neglect the 
recent firman in favour of religious fi-eedom, notwithstanding the apparent earnest- 
ness of the Pasha in attempting to give it full effect. The Roman Catholics were 
looking forward with hope of relief to the arrival of M. Botta, the discoverer of 

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. O the 



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194 Biblical Intelligence. [July, 

the Assyrian antiquities at Mosul, who had been appointed French Consul at 
Jerusalem. 

We rejoice to hear that the second Yolume of Dr. Samuel Davidson^s work on 
the Introduction to the New Testament is in the press ; and although its progress 
has been delayed by a severe domestic affliction, its appearance may now be very 
ihordy expected. 



LIST OF PUBLICATIONS. 



ENGLISH. 



Atlas (The) of Prophecy ; being the Prophecies of Daniel and St. John. 

4to. pp. £36. 

Attempt to prove the Calculations of the Rev. Robert Fleming incorrect. 

By an Inqoiier. svo. pp. 100. 

Augustine (S.) — Homilies of the Gospel according to St. John and his First 

Epiatle. TmuUted, with Notes and Indices. Vol. 2, Svo. pp. 700. 

Balmey. — An English Translation of Balmey's celebrated Work, << Protes- 
tantism and Oatholicism compared io their ElTecU upon European Civilisation." Svo. pp. 452. 
Benedict (D.)— >A Greneral History of the Baptist Denomination in America 

and other Parti of the World. Royal Svo. (New York), pp. 970. 

Biber (Rev. G. E.)^The Life of St. Paul the Apostle of the Gentiles. 

ISmo. pp. SS8. 

Binney (Rev. T.) — ^The Ultimate Design of the Christian Ministry to present 

every Man perfect in Christ Jeans. ISmo. pp. 180. 

Blakey (R.)->The Temporal Benefits of Christianity, exemplified in its 

Influence on the Social, Intellectaal, CiTil, and Political Condition of Mankind. Sto. pp. 408. 

Bonar (Rev. H.) — ^The Coming and the Kingdom of the Lord Jesus. 

Fcp. pp. 480. 

Boys (Rev. T.)-~A Word for the Church, with Remarks on the Hon. and 

Rev. B. W. Noel's Essay on the Union of Chareh and State. 12mo. pp. 174. 

Buchanan (B«v. Dr. R.)— The Ten Years' Conflict ; being the History of the 

Diaraption of the Church d Scotland. S vols. 8 vo. pp. 1 1 64. 

Burgess (Rev. H.) — Eminent Personal Religion the Want of the Times. 

S4mo. pp. 48. 

Truth or Orthodoxy: to which must we Sacrifice? 

Sto. pp. 23. 

Bushnell (H.) — God in Christ Three Discourses delivered at Newhaven, 

Cambridge, and And ver. 12mo. (Hartford, U.S.), pp. 356. 

Chalmers' (Rev. Thomas) Works. Vols. 1 to 25, new edition. 12mo. 
(Dr. T.)— Posthumous Works. Edited by the Rev. Dr. Hanna. 

VoL7,8to. pp. 638. 

Clemens.— The Spiritual Reign: an Essay on the Coming of our Lord Jesus 

Christ. ISmo. pp. £14. 

Cureton (Rev, W.) — Corpus Ignatianum ; a complete Collection of the 

>' Ignatian Epistles. Boyal 8to. pp. 884. 

Curzon (R.) — Visits to the Monasteries in the Levant. Post 8vo. pp. 480. 
Cyclopeedia of Moral and Religious Anecdotes: a Collection of several 

Thousand Facts, Incidents, Narratives, Examples, and Testimonials, embracing the best of the 
kind in most former collections, and some hundreds in addition, Original and Selected. With 
copious Topical and Scriptural Indexes. By Rev. K. Arvine, A. M ., Pastor of PMvidence Church, 
New Yorlc ; with an Introduction by Rev. Geo. B. Cheever, D.D. 1 vol. royal 8yo. 

Denham (Rev. J. F.) — An Introductory Lecture on the Union of Religion 

and Education. ISmo. pp. 24. 

De Wette. — ^Theodbre ; or, The Sceptic's Conversion : History of the Culture 
of a Pkotestant Clergyman. By James F. Clarke. S vols. 12mo. (Boston, tJ. S.) pp. 786. 
* Dixon 



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1849.] List of Pvblicatims. 195 

Dixon (Rey. J.) — Methodism in America; with the Personal Narrative of the 

Author daring a Tour through a part of the United States and Canada. ISmo. pp. 510. 

DowUng (Dr. J.) — The History of Romanism, ^m the Earliest Corruptions 

of Cairifltianity to the Plreaent Time. Svo. (New York'), pp. 798. 

Evans (T.)— An Exposition of the Faith of the Religious Society of Friends, 

in aome of the Fundamental Doctrines of the Christian Religion. l2mo. pp. 816. 

Fairbaim (Rev. P.) — Jonah : his Life, Character, and Mission. 12mo. 

(Edinburgh), pp. 243. 

Ford (Rev. J.)— The Gospel of St. Mark illustrated (chiefly in the Doctrinal 

and Moral Sense), from Ancient and Modem Authon. Syo. pp. 4U. 

France and her Religious History ; or, Sketches of her Martyrs and Reformers. 

1 2mo. pp. 304. 

Garbett (Rev. J.) — Modem Philosophical Infidelity : or the Personality of 

Ch)d. Svo. pp. 51. 
Gesenius (Prof.) — Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament, 

including the Biblical^aldee, flrom the Latin of Pkofessor Gesenios. By Dr. Edward Robinson. 
3rd edition, royal Sro. (New York), pp. 1180. 

Greek Testament, a Practical Guide to the. 12mo. pp. 92. 

Ham (J. P.) — ^Life and Death ; or. The Theology of the Bible in relation fo 

Human Immorality. 18mo. (Bristol), pp. 168. 

History of the Puritans in England and the Pilgrim Fathers. 12mo. pp. 508. 

HoUingsworth (Rev. A. G. H.) — The Holy Land Restored ; or, An Exami- 
nation of the Prophetic Evidence for the Restitution of Palestine to the Jews. Post Svo. 
pp. 800. 

Hubert (Rev. H. S. M.)— England in the Days of Wiclif. 12mo. pp. 212. 
Israel and the Grentiles : Contributions to the History of the Jews from the 

Earliest Times to the present Day. By Dr. Isaac da Costa, of Amsterdam. Post Svo. 

Johns' (Rev. B. G.) History of the Jews, from the Captivity to the Coming 

of the Messiah. ISmo. Map. 

Knox (Rev. T.)— Daniel the Prophet, Reflections on his Life and Character. 

ISmo. (Dublin), pp. 228. 

Lamb (The), as it had been slain. 12mo. pp. 59. 

Layard (A. H.) — The Monuments of Nineveh, from Drawings made on the 

Spot. Folio, pp. 88, illustrated with 100 plates. 
Lectures on Medical Missions. 12mo. (Edinburgh), pp. 320. 
Lee (S.) — An Inquiry into the Nature, Progress, and End of Prophecy. By 

Samuel Lee, D.D. Svo. pp. 638. 

Letters of Certain Jews to M. Voltaire; containing an Apology for their 

Own People, and for the Old Testament : with Critical ReHections. Translated by the Rev. 
Philip Lefanu, D.D. S vols, in I, Sro. (Philadelphia), pp. 61S. 

Lynch (W. F.) — Narrative of an Exploring Expedition to the Dead Sea and 
Source of tilie Jfordan ; undertaken by ocder of tbe uovwnment of the Unitad States. Svo. with 
numerous engravings. 

Macdonald (J.) — ^The Life of the Rev. John Macdonald, late Missionary 

Minister from the Free Church of Scotland at Calcutta. By the Bev. W. K. Tweedie. Poet 
Svo. pp. 490. 

Magoon (E. L.) — Republican Christianity ; or. True Liberty, as exhibited in 

the life, Precepts, and Early Disciples of the Great Redeemer. Post Svo. (Boston, U. S.), 
pp. «2. 

Maitland (C.) — The Apostles' School of Prophetic Interpretation. Svo. 
Marsh (Rev. W, T.)— The Church and the State; or, A Brief Apology for 

tilie Church of England in her connexion with the State. ISmo. pp. 480. 

Mason (J. M.) — Complete Works. Edited by his Son, Ebenezer Mason. 
4 vols. Svo. (^few York), pp. S852. 

Missionary Enterprise : a Collection of Discourses on Christian Missions, by 
American Authors. Edited by Baron Stow. 12mo. (Boston, U. S.), pp. S16. ; 

Montague (E. P.) — ^Narrative of the Late Expedition to the Dead Sea. 

ISmo. (Philadelphia), pp. 836. 

Morgan 



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196 List of Ptiblications. [July, 1849. 

Morgan (Rev. R. W.)~Notet oo various dbtiBctive Varieties of the Christian 

Chuich. 8T0. pp. 482. 

Morris (A. J.) — Christ the Spirit of Christianity. 12mo. pp. 24. 

Neale (J. M.) — ^Tetralogia Liturgica : sive S. Jacobi, S. Marci, S. Chrysostomi 

Divinv Mians : quibm aoMdit OflBciam Moiarabioiun. Bwo^ pp^ SOS. 

Newman (F. W.) — The Soul ; her Sorrows and her Aspirations : an Essay 
towards the Nat«nl Hiatoiy of the Soul, aa the Baaia of Thedogy. Poak 8to. pp^ 834. 

Nitzsch (C. J.) — System of Christian Doctrine. By Dr. Carl Immanuel 
Nitvch. Thtnalated flrom the 5th revised and ealarged Gennan edition, by the Bev. Robert 
Montgomery and John Hennen. 8to. (Ediab.), pp. 486. 

Robertson (Rev. J. S. S.)^£ighteen Lectures, Practical and Expository, upon 

St. Paul's Epistle to the Philippiana. ISmo. pp. 880. 

Sabbath. — Letter to Sir Andrew Agnew on the Observance of Sunday. Also, 

Calvin on the Fourth Commandment. 8vo. pp. 88. 

Scripture Sites and Scenes, from Actual Survey in Egypt, Arabia, and Pa- 
lestine. Small Svo. pp. 190. 
Smith (6.) — Sacred Annals. Vol. 2, comprising the History and Religion 

of the Jewish People. Crown Svo. 

Stephen (Sir J.) — Essays in Ecclesiastical Biography. 2 vols. Svo. pp. 1032. 

Sumner. — A Selection from the Archbishop of Canterbury's Practical Expo- 
sition of the Ooapels, of those parts more paitieularly which lefer to the Faith aad Plraetiee of a 
Christian. By the Rev. George Willcinson. 18mo. pp. 816. 

Tattam (Dr. H.) — ^The Apostolical Constitutions ; or, Canons of the Apostles : 

in Coptic. With an English Translation by Henry Tatt4m, LL.T)., D.D. 8vo. pp. 816. 
Taylor (J.) — The Thumb Bible j or, Verbum Sempiternum. Printed from 

the Edition of 1 693. 64mo. claaped. 

Thomson (J.) — Exposition of the Gospel according to St. Luke, chaps. L to ix., 

in a Series of Leehues. Svo. pp. d84. 

Trench (R. C.)— Sacred Latin Poetry. By R. C. Trench. 13mo. pp. S72. 
West (R. A.) — Sketches of Wesleyan Preachers. 12mo. pp. 392. 
Westwood (J. O.) — Illuminated Illustrations of the Bible, copied from Select 

Maniiacripts of the Middle Ages. 4to. 

Willis (R.) — ^The Architectural History of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. 

8vo. pp. i«s. 
Woodcock (Rev. W. J.) — Scripture Lands ; or, A Visit to the Scenes of the 

Bible. Post 8vo., with lUuatrations. 

Wordsworth (C.)~The Apocalypse, or Book of Revelation ; the Original 

Greek Text, with Manuscript Collations, &c. Svo. pp. 480. 

Wroth (H. T.) — Mohammedanism considered in relation to the Christian 

Evidences : an liaBay which obtained the Holaean FHae for the ye«r IS48. svo. (OMnbridge). 

pp. 88. 

FOREIGN. 
Bttissonw — Les Paraboles de I'Evangile, expliqute et d^velopp^et en six 

Diseoors. 18ao. 
Caussin de Percival. — Essai sur THistoire des Arabes avant ]*Islamisme, 
pendant I'epoque de Mahomet, et jaaipi*& la redaction de toateslestfibatao«a la loi riiuaufaiUHae . 
3 vols. Svo. 

Hahn (K. A.) — Auswahl aus Ulfilas gothischer BibelUbersetzunir. Mit dnem 

Wortert)uch. svo. (Heidelb.) 
Jacquin et Duesberg — Dictionnaire d*Antiquit^ Chr^tiennes. 8vo. 
Koch (Dr. Aug.) — Commentar tib. die Briefe d. Apostels Paulus an die 

Theasalonioher. 1 TbL : Der erste Brief. Svo. (Berlin.) 

Kurtz (J. H.) — Bibel u. Astronomic, nebst mehr. Zvtnheti vefwandten 

Inhalts. svo. (Berlin.) 

Meyers (P.)~De Symbol! apostoliei Titulo, origkie et antiottissittiis ecdesice 
temporibns anetoritirte diaseiUtio theolog. 8vo.(Ttev.) 



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THE 

JOURNAL 

OP 

SACRED LITERATURE. 

No. VIII.-OCTOBER, 1849. 

TISCHENDORF^S GREEK TESTAMENT. 

By Samuel Pbideaux Tbegelles. 

Novum Testamentum Greece. Ad antiquos testes recensuitj appa-- 
ratum criticum multis modis auctum et correctum apposuit, com- 
mentatiimem isagogicam prcBmisit Conbtantinus Tischen- 
DORF, TheoL Dr. et Prof. Editio Lipaensis secunda. lipsUe. 
A. Winter, mbcccxlix. 

The name of Dr. Tisehendorf has been well and widely known in 
connection with New Testament criticism ever since the publi- 
cation of his first edition in 1841. At that time he had the 
opportunity of using only the critical materials which others had 
elaborated ; he now comes forward as presenting the result of his 
own labours in this field, — labours which at once place him in the 
first rank amongst the collators and publishers of Mblical MSS. 

In introducing this new edition of Tisehendorf s Greek Testa- 
ment to our readers, we have to speak first of the state of critical 
opinion relative to the sources from which the text of that book 
may be the more accurately edited. 

From the time when Griesbach, by his endeavours to correct 
the text of the Greek New Testament, drew a far more general 
attention to the subject of textual criticism than had previously 
existed, the minds of scholars were more or less directed either to 
uphold those documents which in general support the ' Received 
Text,' or else those which differ widely from it, and from their 
antiquity possess no small claim to attention. 

VOL. IV. — NO. vin. P The 



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198 Tischendorfs Greek Testament. [Oct. 

The New Testament published by Dr. J. M. A. Scholz was the 
result of the very extensive collations of MSS. carried on for 
some yeafs by himself. He rested strongly on the large numbers 
of the MSS. still extant which were written within the limits of 
the Patriarchate of Constantinople, and which present a yery 

feneral agreement. Hence in many passages in which Griesbach 
ad followed the more ancient copies, Scholz relied on the iiumber 
of the more recent, and thus adhered to the received text or to 
readings which do not differ much from it. 

Thus the text of Scholz was hichly valued by many who feared 
innovation : they were willing to believe that a deep truth lay at 
the basis of his system, and thus they acquiesced in his estimate 
of authorities. Others, too, who were dissatisfied with Griesbach's 
system of recensions, were willing to assent to the twofold division 
of MSS. proposed by Scholz ; and this was often the case without 
an accurate inquiry into and investigation of the correctness of his 
arrangement of documents and authorities under th^ respective 
classes. Scholz's twofold division was supposed by some to be a 
new discovery of his own ; they overlooked Bengel's distribution 
of documents into families, and the entirely different estimate 
which he formed of their respective authority. 

In this manner the critical principles of Scholz found many 
advocates in this country : not so much amongst those who had 
really studied the subject, as amongst the very numerous class who 
deprecate all application of criticism to the sacred text. 

One part of the critical labour of Scholz was of great utility 
and importance : in the course of his Biblico-Critical Travels he 
examined the Greek MSS. in most libraries : he thus extended 
widely the knowledge which we possess on the subject ; and his 
collations, though often very partial and hurried, afford at least 
some indication of the class of text to which the different docu- 
ments belong. 

Just after Scholz's first volume appeared, Lachmann, in his 
manual edition, took an entirely opposite path of criticism. He 
used as authorities the most ancient MSS. onlyy and the Latin 
Vulgate. His text is therefore founded at least on ancient au- 
thorities. From the time of Lachmaim's edition there has been 
found in Germany, among many scholars, a great appreciation of 
theprinciple of recurring to the more ancient authorities. 

Tischendorf, in his first edition in 1841, adopted this principle 
to a considerable degree. We shall not here discuss uie state- 
ment which he then gave of the principles on which he formed his 
text, and of the manner in whiwi he modified his recurrence to 
the most ancient authorities: we shall have occasion, in re- 
viewing the edition before us, to speak of the critical principles 

wnich 



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1849.] Tischendorfs Greek Testament. 199 

which he now states, after the lapse of some years devoted to such 
studies. 

The present edition exhibits a recension of the Greek text with 
a selection of various readings — ^the result not merely of the 
labours of previous collators, but especially of those of Tischendorf 
himself, during the years which have elapsed since his first edition 
appeared. 

Prefixed there are prolegomena in which the following subjects 
are noticed : — Tischendorfs own labours in the collation, &c., 
of ancient documents; the critical principles on which he has 
acted in this edition ; the dialect of the Greek New Testament ; 
the subject of recensions of the Greek text ; the order of the 
books ; forms of proper names, &c. ; editions of the Sacred Text, 
Elzevir, Griesbach, Scholz, Lachmann, Muralt, Bomemann (Acts 
of the Apostles), and Tregelles (Apocalypse). Then follows the 
list of MSS., versions, &c., on which the text is based. 

The account of Tischendorfs own labours shows how much 
Biblical critics are indebted to him. Since the publication of his 
first edition he has himself copied or collated almost every uncial 
MS. which is known to exist. The very important Palimpsest 
MS., the Codex Ephraemi at Paris (C), has oeen published by 
Tischendorf; and this has been succeeded by the text of the 
Codex L of the Gospels, which was accompanied by that of B of 
the Apocalypse, and several important fragments. He has also 
published the Latin Codex Palatinus. He has a transcript of 
the Codex Claromontanus (D of St. Paul's Epistles), which he 
announces it to be his intention to publish. 

He states (p. Ivii.) that he has personally examined every known 
uncial MS. of the New Testament, except H of the Gospels at 
Hamburgh, V of the Gospels and K of the Epistles at Moscow, 
the Codex San-Germanensis at St. Petersburgh, and the frag- 
ments PQZ and the MS. A which have been published. The 
travels during which the MSS. were thus examined, occupied 
Tischendorf from 1840 to 1844, and the results obtained are 
given in the Wiener Jahrbucher, 1847 (Anziegeblatt). 

It is evident that these more extended labours would give the 
present edition a great superiority over that which Tischendorf 
first published. Then he only had the collations of others to 
rely on ; now he presents the fruit of his own labours. This ^ves 
his work a value to those who differ from his critical principles, as 
well as to those who agree with them more or less fully. 

Tischendorf gives an account of what he has done, since the 
publication of his first edition, in connection with the ancient 
versions. Of these he has collated the Codex Amiatinus of the 
Latin Vulgate, and some other Latin authorities. For the other 

p 2 versions 



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200 Tischmdorfs Greek Testament. [Oct. 

versions he has relied, generally speaking, on the best printed 
editions. Many Fathers, and some editions of the Greek Testa- 
ment, have been re-examined. 

The materials thus collected are obviously incapable of being 
fiilly exhibited in a manual edition, such as this is. The prin- 
ciple of selection which Tischendorf has adopted has been to give 
those which support his text, and also those which he condders to 
be of sufficient importance to merit notice. The principle on 
which he has acted in this is briefly explained in a note (p. xi.)* 
We may remark that it requires a very considerable degree of 
attention for the mind fully and readily to observe what authorities 
support and what contradict the readings mentioned. In the Acts, 
Epistles, and Apocalypse, the readings are given less sparingly 
than in the Gospels. Many will, we believe, regret that they have 
not had brought before ihem the full results of such extended 
labours. This would no doubt be desirable and important, but 
in a small and cheap manual edition it is impracticable. We 
must thank the learned editor for what he has given us. 

We have now to speak of one of the most important parts of 
the subject — the critical principles laid down by the editor. We 
may illustrate the importance of an editor's principles by a re- 
ference to Wetstein's Greek Testament. Wetstein's own labours 
had been considerable, (though often overstated : the number of 
MSS.- of the Gospels which he himself collated in thirty-five years 
was about twenty)^ he had with great industry collected the col- 
lations of Mill and others, and he had re-examined many versions 
and Fathers ; and yet his Greek Testament is not one to which 
reference can be made except as a storehouse of materials. His 
indications of the readings which he preferred to those of the 
* received text' have scarcely any critical weight, from the cha- 
racter of the critical principles wmch he adopted. 

This shows the importance of not only collecting the materials 
for critical use, but of also applyina them on sound principles. 

The following, then, are the principles which Tischendorf has 
laid down for the formation of his text. 

* The text is only to be sought from ancient evidence, and espe- 
cially from Greek JlSS., but without neglecting the testimonies of 
versions and Fathers. Thus the whole conformation of the text- 
should proceed from the evidences themselves and not from what 
is called the received edition.' 

This rule we believe to be most sound and important. What 
the inspired authors actually wrote is a matter of testimony ; the 
ancient evidences which have been transmitted to us present us the 
best accredited grounds on which we can form a judgment. Tis- 
chendorf then adds, that where testimonies differ, the most ancient 

Greek 



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1849.] Tischendarfs Greek Testament. 201 

Greek MSS. deserve especially to be relied on. Under the term 
* Codices Graeci antiquissimi/ he includes the documents from 
the fourth to about the ninth century. This is, however, a pretty 
wide limit, and these MSS. themselves he would classify accord- 
ing to their age. This, it fully carried out, will, we beheve, pre- 
sent several important features in the history of the text ; for we 
should thus find, we believe, a gradual change in the text from the 
most ancient documents of all, until we find readings in general use 
which are almost identical with the MSS. of modem copies. 

But although Tischendorf carries down his most ancient MSS. 
as fisir as the ninth century, he adds, that the authority of the older 
amongst them is much the greater ; and that this authority on 
the one hand is greatly confirmed if there are corroborating testi- 
monies of versions and Fathers, and on the other hand it is not 
to be rejected, even though most, or all, of the more modem copies 
read difierently. 

Tischendorf speaks (p. xiii.) of the early rise of various read- 
ings ; this he attributes in part to the early Cfhristians having had 
but little reverence for ' the written letter. It seems to us, how- 
ever, very doubtful whether this were really the fact. Irenaeus, 
when discussing the various readings which even in his day had 
crept in to the text of Rev. xiii. 18 (616 for 666), speaks posi- 
tively on the point, that the true reading is 666, which he knew 
from those who had known the Apostle John face to face : he then 
speaks of those who introduced the erroneous number 616, and he 
is willing to attribute it to transcriptural error ; — * We think that 
pardon will be granted bv God to those who have done this simply 
and without malice.' lie would have used very difierent lan- 
guage had he supposed indiflerence to the text of Scripture. We 
would rather attribute the early oripn of various readings in the 
New Testament to the ordinary causes, which must have operated 
all the more rapidly, from \he frequency with which the Scriptures 
were transcribed for the use of churdies and Christians m the 
first ages« 

In addition to the principle of following ancient testimonies en-^ 
tirely, Tischendorf gives certain rules for weighing authorities : — 

1. A reading altogether peculiar to one or another ancient do- 
cument is suspicious, as also is any even if supported by a class of 
documents, which seem to evince that they have proceeded from 
the revision of a leamed man. 

2. Readings, however well supported by evidence, are to be 
rejected, when it is manifest or very probable that they have pro- 
ceeded from the error of copyists. 

3. In parallel passages whether of the New or the Old Testa- 
ment, especially in the synoptical Gospels which ancient copyists 

continually 



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202 Tischendorfs Greek Testament. [Oct. 

continually brought into increased accordance, those testimonies 
are to be preferred in which precise accordance of such parallel 
passages is not found ; unless, indeed^ there be important reasons 
to the contrary. 

4. In discrepant readings that is preferable which may have 
given occasion to the rest, or which appears to comprise me ele- 
ments of the rest. 

5. Those readings are to be maintained which accord with New 
Testament Greek, or with the particular style of each individual 
writer. 

These rules are then illustrated by remarks and examples. On 
the Jirst Tischendorf says, that especially in the Gospels, where 
the uncial MSS. are several in number, it would be incautious to 
receive a reading into the text on the authority of but one MS., 
unless such reading be in some measure corroborated. We think 
that there can hardly be a passage in the Gospels where it would 
be needful to rely upon but one MS., unless the passage present a 
remarkable discrepancy of reading. Tischendorf would apparently 
introduce the same limitation. He gives, as an example, Mark ii. 
22, where, instead of the common reading o orvof exxeiVai xaJ o« 
daxoX a?roXot)vTai, he reads h oivos aisoWvrai xai oi dtyxoi. This 
reading he adopts as being that of the Vatican MS., though he 
would not have received it as resting on that single testimony, 
unless it had been also the reading of flie Coptic version. He con- 
siders that this passage has been corrupted from the parallel pas- 
sages in the other Gospels. It must also be considered that in this 
passage other authorities partially confirm the Vatican reading, 
rhe following words (aXXa orvov vg'ov elf daitovs xxivous /SXrjriov) he 
omits on the authority of D and four ancient Latin MSS., consi- 
dering them to have been introduced from the parallel passages. 
It must, however, be borne in mind that the direct and united evi- 
dence of all the other most ancient documents possesses very great 
weight, much greater, as it appears to us, than the presumption 
arising from the known fact that parallel passages were often 
brought into closer agreement. Tiscnendorf says that he has often 
paused in doubt in such cases, as to what reading he should insert 
m his text : we do not wonder at this, especially as he does not 
indicate probable or not improbable readings in his margin. We 
believe that evidence must be first regarded, and that in cases of 
equal or nearly equal evidence, probability arising from the nature 
of the case may come in to help us to a decision. 

In cases in which particular MSS. appear to be partial to parti- 
cular tenses of verbs, or modes of expression, Tischendorf woidd 
use his first rule as excluding such readings from being received, 
simply on the authority of such MSS. He would exclude any 

reading 



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1849.] Tiachmdorfs Greek Testament 203 

reading which may seem to have arisen from a recension {i.e, 
critical reyision) by a learned man. He specifies Matt. xxv. 1 6 
(misprinted 15) as an instance; where he rejects the reading 
exg^SiQjgv, though supported by A**BCDL, and other MSS., the 
Vulgate, Syriac, later Syriac marg., Coptic, Ethiopic, Armenian, 
Arabic, and Persic versions. In spite of all this evidence he con- 
siders that it mttst be regarded as a critical emendation for the 
common reading sTromaEv. But as to this, must we not follow evi^ 
dence 9 K Uep^ntTey be a critical correction, is it not strange that it 
should be supported so strongly by the best and most ancient MSS. 
in a body, and that this should be confirmed by the versions ? Tis- 
chendorf^ indeed, admits that this critical correction (if such it be) 
is as old as the second or third century : if so, how can we prove 
this reading not to be genuine ? or how can we show that the 
reading evoiri^sv (if genuine) had been transmitted through the 
early period of the history of the text ? In this passage Tischen- 
dorf has not stated the authorities which support the reading which 
he has adopted. We may further ask, whether a copyist might 
not have changed the more appropriate term sKsp^rnrsy into the more 
£9imliar evoi'n<TBv ? 

As to his second rule, Hschendorf admits fiiUy how of);en it must 
be a matter of doubt whether a reading which appears to arise from 
the error of a copyist really does so or not. Many things, which to 
an inexperienced person seem to be transcriptural errors, are not 
really such* Tischendorf gives some good examples of the con- 
fusion of similar words, &c., which actually arise from this source. 
We are fully persuaded that many readings, which some (even 
Tischendorf himself) would attribute to the errors of transcribers, 
are really genuine ; and that before a well-supported reading be 
rejected as though it were devoid of sense, the whole passage must 
be well and cautiously considered ; and then it will commonly be 
found that the reading in which the ancient authorities agree, aflords 
a sense which, though perhaps not very obvious, is good, and which, 
so far from being attributable to the error of a transcriber, must 
be considered as genuine, and that the more apparently simple 
reading is only an attempt at correction. 

'Kschendorf illustrates his third rule by Matt, xxiii, 4, where 
he omits xai iufffidcrraKTot after fiapiac with L, and a few later 
MSS., and some versions : this he does because it is the reading 
of the parallel passage in Luke. We do not think that this pas- 
sage fully illustrates the rule with regard to parallel texts in the 
Synoptical Gospels, because here the amount of evidence for the 
retention of the words in Matthew appears to us to be too con- 
iderable for us to set it aside at once by the application of a prin- 
ciple. Indeed in all such cases we think it needrul^rv^ to examine 

the 



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204 Tischendarfs Greek Testament. [Oct 

the evidence, and then to compare the parallel passages ; we must 
form a judgment on probabilities when we cannot as to certainties. 

In the case of parallel texts cited from the Old Testament, 
Tischendorf states that he has continually had recoiu*se to the 
collations in the Oxford edition of Holmes and Parsons. 

The fourth rule — that the reading should be preferred from 
which the others have sprung — ^is described as bemg (if taken in 
a wide sense) the principle of all rules. In support of this, refer- 
ence is made to Griesbach's Prolegomena. Its application will 
however depend very much on the subjective feelins of each one 
who uses it. Tischendorf gives as an illustration Matt. xxiv. 38, 
where the common reading is iv rais nM.ipais rats vqo rov xeiraxkv- 
(TfAov : some MSS. insert sKeivais after rifAipaify while others (L 
one Lectionary, three Latin MSS and Origen twice) omit reus Trpo. 
Tischendorf follows these last-mentioned authorities : he thinks it 
far more probable that the original reading was 'davs of the 
flood,' and that the others have arisen out of it. He thinks that 
some copyists or critics thought it was hardly correct to say ^ they 
were eating and drinking in the days of the flood,' and henca the 
reading ^ Uiat were before the flood.' This might possibly be the 
origin of this reading ; but the evidence is too great in favour of 
the reading ' that were before the flood,' for us to think that this 
consideration and this measure of evidence can suffice to overturn 
it. The words rals *nqo might be most easily passed over by a 
transcriber ; and as to the citation of Origen, how often do we 
not find a quotation slightly abridged when nothing in the argu- 
ment turns on the omitted words ? As to the term ^ days of the 
flood ' being not strictly correct to express days which preceded 
the flood, we think that the assertion goes rather too far : the 
days which preceded the flood, up to and including that on which 
the flood came, might be so called ; and we do not think that the 
idea of correcting this is likely to have originated the intro- 
duction of before. 

In the other passage which is given as an illustration of this fourth 
rule — Mark viii. 26, there are much stronger grounds ; for here, 
/x^Je Elf T^v x^pttjv slaeXflipf, without the words which follow in the 
common text, is the reading supported by BL. two later MSS., 
and the Coptic version. Other authorities introduce a great va- 
riety of reading, all of which may easily have sprung from that 
which Tischendorf has adopted : the common text here has, how- 
ever, considerable support 

We should be inclmed to give a prominent place amongst such 
rules to that laid down by Bengel, ^ Proclivi kctiani prcestat 
arduaf this will often, we believe, aid to the formation of a 
correct judgment, when evidence is somewhat balanced. We 

should 



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1849.] Tischendorfs Greek Testament. 205 

should also in similar cases attribute considerable importance to 
the habitvxil tendervcy of copyists to amplify^ and to insert marginal 
notes into the text. On tnis we may yet make some further re- 
marks. 

On ihe fifth of the rules laid down— that of adhering to the 
forms, &c. of the New Testament Greek — ^Tischendorf gives some 
good remarks, although the subject is (as he says) too extensive 
to be taken up in a passing way. He shows how strange it is 
that forms of Greek which are called Alexandrian^ should be 
rejected as spurious in the New Testament, by those who main- 
tain their existence in the Old Testament in the LXX version. 
He shows that at the time when the New Testament was written, 
Alexandrian Greek was very widely diffiised ; that in many things 
the LXX formed the style, &c. of the Apostolic writings. And 
also, that although the copies of the LXX in common use are 
replete with these forms and the common text of the New Testa- 
ment is without them, it does not prove any contradistinction, be- 
cause the LXX has been printed from ancient MSS., the New 
Testament from modem ; the ancient cojnes of the New Testament 
contain these forms, the modem copies of the LXX (as shown in 
the various readings of Holmes and Parsons) do not \ so that in 
fiust there is a general agreement in this respect between the MS. 
authorities. Thus ' die authorities on which we rely in the Old 
Test£unent may be safely followed in the New. Farther, if it be 
thought that the Alexandrian grammarians were prone to trans- 
form to their own peculiarities works which they received from 
elsewhere, it would indeed be wonderful that they have not changed 
^schylus or Sophocles, Plato or Aristotle into Egyptians ' (p- 
xix.). This argument is excellent, and also we think conclusive 
on two points ; 1st. that the occurrence of Alexandrian forms in a 
MS. of the New Testament does uoi prove the MS. to be of Egyptian 
origin. 2nd. That such forms being generally found in the older 
M«S. of the New Testament may be safely followed as belonging 
to the books as they proceeded from the hands of the authors. 

From pp. XX. to xxviii. Tischendorf speaks of some of these 
forms ; with his remarks we profess our general concurrence : he 
also introduces notices of orthographical peculiarities of ancient 
MSS., &c. One of the points on which he treats is the entire 
rejection of the form avrdv ; he always gives (like some other 
editors) avrov with the smooth aspiration. This is a point on 
which the most ancient MSS., as having neither breathings nor 
accents, cannot affi>rd us direct aid y they can however assist us in- 
directly ; because we find before avrov the prepositions elided, not 
into 6$', a9', fAsd', xacQ', avfi', hU m\ htt\ /uusr', xar', avr ; this is 
also the case in the LXX* 

He 



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206 Tischend(yrfs Greek Testament. [Oct. 

He does not enter into the discussion of the peculiarities of the 
various writers of the New Testament ; he leaves the subject to 
be considered with tlie attention which it deserves. A New Tes- 
tament grammar would be needed to discuss all these points ftdl j. 
To his remarks on the Alexandrian dialect, he adds an announce- 
ment of an edition of the LXX, which he proposes to publish in a 
few months. 

To the remarks of Tischendorf on the subject of Alexandrian 
forms, we would briefly add, that here too we must be guided 
simply by evidence ; we do not expect that there was in the ori- 
ginal autographs of the New Testament precise uniformity in the 
use of dialectic distinctions ; and therefore while we fully acquiesce 
in the principle of the admission of these forms, we consider that 
in each occurrence of such a form, the evidence must be weighed 
which belongs to that particular case. 

We have now stated the critical principles which Tischendorf 
has laid down as those on which his text is formed, and we have 
considered the principal passages which he has cited in elucidation 
of these principles. Our readers will, we believe, gather from 
what we have said, how far we accord with this learned and labo- 
rious critic, and how far we do not. We should use his general 
principle yet more widely than he does : we should seek for the 
true text in the most ancient MSS., using the collateral aid of 
versions and early citations, and we should subject all modifying 
rules to the claims of absolute evidence. We should restrict the 
application of such modifying rules to passages in which the real 
conflict of evidence is great. We should also consider that in 
many cases we could do no more than state the balance of proba- 
bilities ; so that besides the reading given in the text, other read- 
ings should be mentioned as possessing a strong claim to attention. 
We propose, before we conclude this notice, to consider the manner 
in which Tischendorf has applied his principles to particular pas- 
sages. 

We do not wish our remarks to be at all misunderstood : we 
therefore state distinctly that in this learned editor's critical prin- 
ciples we find yar more with which we agree than the contrary, 
and that the principles and illustrations aUke deserve to be consi- 
dered attentively. 

On the subject of Recensions of the text, Tischendorf first gives 
an account (from his own former Leipsig edition) of the systems 
pr^K)sed hj others, and then he brieflv expresses his own. 

Bengel is first here spoken of as bringing forward distinctions 
of MSS. into two classes. We may however mention, that pretty 

plain 



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1849.] Teschendorf 8 Greek Testament. 207 

plain intimations of the same thing had been previously given by 
Bentley. 

After an allusion to Semler, Teschendorf speaks of Griesbach 
and his system ; then of the modifications proposed by Hug and 
Eichhom : the supposed recension undertaken by Origen is rightly 
described as a mere creation of Hug's imagination. 

The actual documents which we possess must be divided, we 
think, if any classification be attempted, into two primary families : 
those which contain the ancient text, and those which follow the 
more modem. The former of these classes (although difiering 
among themselves in many particulars) possess features of general 
agreement, and these are in ceneral also found in the more 
ancient versions and in the citations. The later MSS. agree 
amongst themselves more exactly than the most ancient do, and 
the more recent versions accord with these MSS. The Greek 
MSS. from the 12th century and onward present a marked agree- 
ment, and this is the most recent form of the text. 

These are \hQ facts of the case, and on these Tischendorf pro- 
poses his classification, applicable especially (he says) to the 
Gospels, least of all to the Apocaljrpse, and more so to the Acts 
and Pauline Epistles than to the Catholic Epistles. These classes 
he thinks might be called Alexandrian and Latin, Asiatic and 
Byzantine, not as being four separate classes, but rather two pairs : 
the first pair would comprehend the more ancient documents, the 
latter the more recent. He then explains what MSS. he would 
place under each denomination ; while at the same time he fully 
allows that all attempts at defining the origin of each class is beset 
with difficulties. 

It mav, we believe, be questioned how far an actual classijica- 
tion of MSS. is practicable beyond the distinction of the ancient 
and the more recent ; subdivisions no doubt exist, and thus there 
are general truths on which Tischendorf 's arrangement is based. 
Thus, in St. Paul's Epistles, ABC belong to one division, D 
(with E) F G to another of the same general class ; while J K on 
Uie one hand, and the MSS. later than the 12th century on the 
other, may be regarded as divisions of the other class. We can- 
not here carry on the subject farther : its principal importance is, 
we consider, in connection with the history of the modernization of 
the text : if the term recension be used at all, it ought, we think, 
to be applied only to those attempts to correct the ancient text 
out of which the modem text has arisen. 

The next subject of which Tischendorf treats is the order of 
the books in the New Testament ; he then considers the ortho- 
graphy of some of the proper names in the New Testament ; he 

then 



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208 Tischendorfs Greek Testament. [Oct. 

then ^ves a few brief remarks on accents and breathings^ subjects 
however which he leaves to be discussed elsewhere, as well as the 
more important topic of punctuation. 

But although the subject of punctuation is not discussed by 
Tischendorf in his Prolegomena, there is a passage in his text 
to which we wish to call attention with regard to this point. 
Rom. ix. 5. xai e^ iv o XpKTTos" to xaroi a-aqxa, o Sfv btti TrdvrcoTf 
Oeos e^XoTioTos sU rovs ala;v«r. •ApwQv. Such is the common punc- 
tuation ; but Tischendorf, in his first Leipsig edition, has imitated 
some other modem editors in putting a full stop after a-a^yta. In 
his Paris edition (the Protestant one dedicated to M. Guizot, we 
mean) the common punctuation of this verse is followed ; but in 
the new Leipsig edition, which we have now under consideration, 
the point is again placed at ai^Kot. Such a change as this ought 
to be supported by very strong evidence. Now the testimony of 
Fathers must be at least allowed this negative value, that if they 
with remarkable unanimity take words in a particular connection, 
it shows that the words may be so taken without violating gram- 
mar or context. Now that the Fathers do take these words in 
the connection to which we are accustomed is a fact ; there are 
no less than eighteen writers within the first four centuries who 
are proofs of this : nor are there any that can be dted in opposi- 
tion (in spite of the very erroneous statements of Wetstein) ; and 
thus it is manifest that the onus prohandi rests on any who would 
divide the sentence by inserting a period at (T«§»a. The versions 
too confirm the common division. 

But it is surprising that any should adopt this new punctuation ; 
for it leaves a clause of a sentence such as is altogether opposed 
to the principles of Greek collocation. We suppose that it is 
intended that the words should be understood as a doxology, 
* God who is over all [be] blessed for ever 1 ' Had a doxology 
been intended the collocation must have been entirely diflFerent : 
AXoynros must have introduced the sentence. And this Socinus 
himself admitted. This is evident to any one who will compare 
the doxologies in other parts of the New Testament and the LAX. 
Thus, whether we look at the passage in connection with autho- 
rity or philology, the division of the sentence at ffdpxa^ is equally 
opposed. In fact the division was originally suggested by some in 
opposition to the application of o &v km vavrm deof to Christ, 
and others may have adopted it without due consideration. (On 
the whole passage, see ' Biblical Notes and Critical Disserta- 
tions,' by J. J. Gurney, pp. 423 — 456.) Those who would make 

• We are weU aware that in the Codex Ephraemi (C) thers is a point after cipKOi ; 
but this is no indication of such a stop as a period. A similar point occurs just before 
after cTOEyycA/at, where no one could introdace such a break. 

the 



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1849.] Tisckendorfs Greek Testament. 

the concluding words of this sentence a doxology are by no means 
agreed tohere to place the stop. We have seen where it is intro- 
duced by Tischendorf : the late Dr. De Wette, however, trans- 
lates thus: — und aus welchen Christus stammet nach dem 
Fleische, der uber alle ist. Gott sie gepriesen in EwigkeitI 
Amen. 

A new punctuation is here not only needless but it is inadmis- 
sible ; the only connection of the words which will bear the test 
of criticism is the one commonly received ; the climax of what 
the Apostle has to say of the privileges conferred on Israel — * of 
whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ came, who is over all, God 
blessed for ever. Amen.' 

In speaking of editiom of the New Testament, Tischendorf 
first mentions the Elzevir. A list of 115 places in which this 
text differs from that of Stephens 1550, had been given in Tis- 
chendorf s former Leipsig edition ; to those he added ttoelve more 
in his Paris edition, and now he cives a list of eighteen others, 
eiffht of which are in the Apocalypse {all of which had been 
pointed out in the Introduction to Tregelles's * Greek and English 
Revelation,' p. xxxiv.) : these variations of the Stephanie and the 
Elzevir text are indicated at the bottom of the page ; the m- 

Ctance of this consists in the fact that MSS. in general have 
n collated with one or the other of the two texts, and thus the 
places in which they differ demand particular attention. 

The number of differences between these two texts as given by 
Tischendorf is, then, one hundred and forty-Jive ; in collating 
them together we have noticed one hundred and Jifty-two. In 
1 Pet. i. 3, Tischendorf omits the discrepancy of the two texts. 
Stephens has dyaysvyyioas it^as, but the Elzevir reads vii^as ; and 
in the next verse he follows Griesbach in giving iii.0Ls as the 
reading of Stephens, and viiJas as that of Elzevir ; the fact, how- 
ever, is that both read viimls^ so this should be omitted from his list. 
So too in 1 Pet. iii. 7, where he also follows Griesbach in giving 
at/yKKmpoyofjMis as the Elzevir reading ; whereas that text really 
coincides with that of Stephens in the reading ffvyxXTipovofjLoi. 
Also in Luke xiii. 8, Jtonplay is ^ven as the * received' reading, 
when in fact it is merely that of Stephens ; the Elzevir has xc^rqia 
(sic), differing only in the accent from that adopted by Griesbach 
and Tischendorf 

We have in such comparisons found it needftd to use the 
original editions of Stephens and the Elzevirs, and not any rc- 
prints. We believe that most of the discrepancies of this kind 
have arisen from the use of reprints which do not accurately 
follow the text on which they are based. 

After 



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210 Tischendorfs Greek Testament. [Oct. 

After a brief notice of the labours and merits of Griesbach as 
a textual critic, Tischendorf mentions Scholz, to whom all who 
prize such studies are indebted for his labours in pointing out 
where MSS. exist and increasing thus our knowledge of materials. 
He speaks of Scholz having first drawn attention to the uncial 
MSS. WXYr. With regard to X, this is a mistake, for Gries-- 
bach mentions this MS. as being then in the public library of 
Ingolstadt, and he received some of its readings in Luke and 
John from Dobrowsky. The Text of Scholz is severely criticised 
by Tischendorf, both as to its critical principles and as to its 
inaccuracies ; these errors have also been noticed by others ; we 
have pointed out some of the more remarkable to Scholz himself. 
His real merit in connection witli New Testament criticism lies 
in his diligence in exploring libraries and giving information as 
to lohat MSS. had been previously unexamined. 

Tischendorf next speaks of his own Paris editions, although in 
chronological order Lachmann's smaller edition would have pre- 
ceded. We will, however, follow his order and mention in this 
place the editions which he published anterior to the one now 
under our consideration. The first was his Leipsig edition of 
1841, with Prolegomena and Critical Apparatus : this was 
executed prior to his own important labours of collation. At 
Paris in 1 842, he published three editions ; one with the Latin 
Vulgate in a parallel column, and having the Greek text con- 
formed to the Clementine Latin, wherever any MS. authority 
whatever would at all support it. At the end, a table is given of 
the variations of Stephens* third edition and Griesbach's second 
from this peculiar recension of the Greek text. There was also 
(though not noticed by Tischendorf in the Prolegomena before us) 
a smaller edition of this Greek text in conformity with the Latin 
Vulgate, printed in the same year, but without the Latin and 
without the various readings at the end. Botii of these editions 
were addressed in the same dedication to the late Archbishop 
Afire of Paris. 

Besides these, there was an edition which generally followed 
that which had appeared in the preceding year at Leipsig ; it 
has no critical apparatus, but the variations of the editions of 
Stephens, Elzevir, and Griesbach are subjoined at the end. This 
edition is dedicated to M. Guizot.^ Tischendorf now states that 
he 

^ The dedications to these Paris editions are carious memorials of the mutability 
of all things human. That to M. Gnizot, * quem Lutetia doctum et perfectum ad- 
miratur oratorem, quem glorise suse Francia colit custodem ac defensorem/ concludes 
thus : *■ Quod reliquum est, yir summe, yale ! Vale ut semper tuah illustres patriam, 
nt gentium conserves pacem, ut augeas bonas artes, ut sacris fayeas litteris.' 

That to Archbishop Afire i^inds up thus :— * Quod restat, Deum T, O. M. preoor 

at 



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1849.] Tischmdorfs Greek Testament 211 

he finds that this edition (which was not corrected by himself) 
contains many errors, but that he hears that the whole has been 
recently corrected at Paris. However this may be, it is even at 
Paris very much confused with the other small edition which we 
have just mentioned ; the resemblance of the two in appearance 
is very, close, and the two are so much confounded, that in 
procuring them recently at the publishers^ both were done up 
in the covers which belong to the edition dedicated to Archbishop 
Afire. 

We believe that this distinct account of Tischendorf s three 
Paris editions will not be unacceptable. 

Lachmann's editions are discussed at some length; into the 
particular points of this examination we cannot now enter further 
than to incUcate that the points considered are, the principles of 
criticism, the narrow range of admitted evidence, tne compara- 
tively little pains taken to obtain that evidence as accurately as 
possible, and passages in which the principles do not appear to be 
consistently carried out. 

Muralt's recent edition of the Greek Testament, professedly 
according to the Vatican MS., receives Tischendorf s severe re- 
prehension. 'Opus est incredibili inscitia, socordia, perfidia.' 
He then shows how it is based merely on a not very accurate com- 
parison of the collation of Birch and that of Giulio Bartolocci ; 
this latter collation is very defective, and yet it receives Muralt's 
highest praises ; while the collation procured by Bentley, by 
far the most complete which we possess, is wholly neglected by 
him. 

Muralt professed that in three daySy in 1844, when he was 
allowed to examine the Vatican MS., he had time sufficient to 
form a judgment of the accuracy of the respective collations of 
Birch and Bartolocci. He states the result to be, that in places 
of discrepancy he generally found Bartolocci to be in the right. 
Now Tischendorf shows convincingly that Muralt had very little 
opportunity allowed liim of examining the Vatican MS., and none 
whatever to collate it; so that at the utmost all that he did was to 

ut Te, Eminentissime Prsesul, ad ecclesioB 7\<<e profectum, ad leeta litterarum in- 
crementa, ad orbis christiani totius gaadiam, fortem ac saWum ad seros usque 
annos conseryet.' In -what a melancholy contrast do these concluding words stand 
with the fate of the archbishop ! We were all the more impressed with this, A-om 
the fact that we procured our copies of these editions on the yery anniversary (June 
27) of the death of Archbishop AfFre. When we went to Didot*s for that purpose, 
we had just entered the cathedral of Notre Dame, wholly unaware that the comme- 
morative service for the repose of the archbishop's soul was then going on. Painfol 
as this superstitious ceremony was even in its very nature, yet the whole scene and 
the occasion, and the deep sorrow of the kneeling multitude, and the chanted dirge, 
were intensely striking and solemn. 

inspect 



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212 Tischmdorfs Greek Testament. [Oct. 

inspect the MS. for three days — ue. for (at the outside) three 
hours a day ; and yet this inspection of nine hours is brought 
forward as mough he had really been able, in that time, critically 
to give the text with accuracy I Tischendorf had certainly far 
better opportunities of examining the Vatican MS. than Muralt, 
who boasts of having achieved so much more. 

Muralt professes that in those places which he was not able to 
compare with the MS. itself he has followed Bartolocci ; that is to 
say, that in all the places of discrepancy which he could not 
examine in nine hours, and, remember accurately, he has followed 
the extremely defective collation of Bartolocci, How slender are 
the grounds on which Muralt formed this judgment Tischendorf 
has thoroughly shown. In Luke xxiii. 39, however — one of the 
passages in the two collations compared by Muralt — ^that editor 
is quite right in saying that qlvto^ is mentioned in the collation 
of Bartolocci as omitted. Tischendorf says, ' a Bartoloccio no- 
tatum ego non vidi ;' he must, then, have overlooked it when 
examining the MS. of Bartolocci's collation at Paris. We saw it 
and transcribed it. Tischendorf 's general remarks on Muralt's 
statements, and the defective execution of his edition, are well 
deserved. 

In addition to the remarks already made by Tischendorf, we 
may say that extremely often Muralt does follow Birch, where 
Bartolocci is wholly silent We have also casually observed 
readings given in ^e MS. of Bartolocci which Muralt has not 
followed : for instance, E^. v. 29. Muralt gives ILvpios ; Bar- 
tolocci has X/?i(rTOf . In 2 Thess. iii. 4, Bartolocci has the insertion 
of xost Egroii9(r(xrE, in which Muralt does not follow him. In these 
two places Bentley's collation agrees with Bartolocci ; so that we 
may be pretty sure that Muralt, in deserting his guide, has not 
given the true reading of the MS. Probably a careful examina- 
tion of Muralt's edition (if it were worth the time and labour) 
would show many more of these discrepancies. We nmo know 
enough of the edition not to trust it, even in the one respect in 
which we once thought it might be useful — Le, with regard to 
Bartolocci's collation now in MS. at Paris. 

The strictures of Tischendorf may serve to hinder Muralt's 
edition from being really taken for what it professes to be. 

To those who have not themselves seen and examined Borne- 
mannas edition of the Acts of the Apostles, in Greeks the description 
given by Tischendorf may appear overdravon. We can, however, 
fully bear out his statements. We should not have believed it 
possible that any one could edit such a text if it had not actually 
made its appearance : (^ Everything which t5, is possible,' 

said 



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1849.] Tischendorfs Greek Testament. 213 

^aid St. Cadocus*^) ; and thus we can fully assent to what 
Tischendorf says : — ^ saepe dubites per ludumne an serio scripta 
legas.' 

Boniemann takes the Codex Bezae for his guide. The strange 
interpolations of that MS. are precious gems in his eyes; and 
thus he gives them as relics of the book as written by St. Luke. 
He seeks to disparage all other MSS., to establish this one. 
Orthographical errors, &c. of the ' Codex Ephraemi ' are carefully 
brought together, with the object of showing that such a MS. 
must be worthy of but little confidence, happily forgetful that his 
own cherished favourite contains similar errors, only far greater 
in magnitude and far more frequent. His great principle appears 
to be that of receiving as genuine scripture whatever may m any 
way claim to be received as such, as if pretensions could give an 
unquestioned title. The additions of the Codex Bezae please him 
to such a degree that he is enraptured with them, and discovers 
beauties and fragrance in every noxious weed which has there 
intruded into the text.^ And yet he seems scarcely to know how 
to use the text of his chosen MS. 

It is not surprising that Bomemann should seek for some critical 
authority for tne new principles which he brings forward so ad- 
venturously : it is, however, at least strange that he should have 
tried to identify them with the name of Porson, In his Preface, 
p. xvi., he says, ' Instar omnium esto h. 1. Porsonus Addend, ad 
Eurip. Hec. 1169, qui, ^^ observandum esty inquit, libraries scepis- 
sime ea verba omittere^ quce salva sententia afutura credunt.^' ' 
This remark of Porson was never intended to have a wider appli- 
cation than that which he gave to it himself. He says {Letters to 
Travisy pp. 149, 150), ' Perhaps you think it an affected and 
absurd idea that a marginal note can ever creep into the text ; 
yet I hope you are not so ignorant as not to know that this has 
iictually happened, not merely in hundreds or thousands, but in 
millions of places. Natura (says Daille) ita comparatum est, ut 
auctorum probatorum libros plerique omnes amplos quam breves 
malint ; verentes scilicet, ne quid sibi desit, quod auctoris vel sit vel 
esse dicatur. To the same purpose Bengelius, non facile pro 
superfluo aliquid hodie habent complures docti mri (he might have 
added omnesque indocti) eademque mente plerique quondam librarii 
fuere. From this known propensity of transcribers to turn every- 



^ The first saint who performed the miracle of being in two places at omce : which 
(the BoUandists remark^ is not eaxy. 

^ We remember haymg heard an enthasiastic expositor dilate on the beaaties 
and the rich treasures of truth taught by one word in a passage of Scripture, — which 
word happened to be a misprint in his Bible I 

VOL. IV. — NO. vin. Q thing 



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214 Tischmdorfs Greek Testament. [Oct 

thing into text which they found written in the margin of their 
MSS. or between the lines, so many interpolations have proceeded 
that at present the surest canon of criticism is prcBferatur lectio 
brevior. These, then, are the sentiments of rorson. Bishop 
Turton defended his literary character ; but if he is to be brought 
forward as an upholder of the uncritical principles on which 
Bomemann has acted, then it would be needfcd to vindicate his 
critical character. How Porson himself would have castigated 
such a production as this text — a retrograde movement in Biblical 
studies. 

Tischendorf concludes his notice of the editions of the sacred 
text with the Greek and English Eevelation published by S. P. 
Tregelles in 1844 

Of this he speaks briefly (he had already reviewed it in the 
* Leipziger Eepertorium,' Heft 39, 1848). He approves of the 
critical principles laid down in the Introduction : ' Perite et caute 
scribuntur leges criticse.' In a foot-note he cites a passage from 
what the editor had said on the subject of inspiration : ' I avow 
my full belief in the absolute plenary inspiration of Scripture 
(2 Tim. iii. 16). I believe the 66 books of the Old and New 
Testaments to be verbally the word of God, as absolutely as were 
the ten commandments written by the finger of God on the two 
tables of stone : and because I thus fully believe in its verbal 
inspiration, I judge that it is not labour ill bestowed, to endeavour 
to search into the evidence which is obtainable as to what those 
words are.' This he cites without any remark ; but in the ' Leip- 
ziger Repertorium' (p. 406) he discusses the same sentence thus : — 
' There is at all events a close collision between the supposition of 
a verbal inspiration and the need of indefatigable criticism of the 
text. Just as it is easier to sustain than to create a world, so is 
it certainly easier to guard an inspired text than to give it' He 
then argues on the fact that the text has not been guarded from 
various readings. Now without inquiring what degree o{ Almighty 
power be needed to create or to sustain a world, we may remark 
that the comparison proves nothing to the point. God created 
the world, and it was * very good ;' and yet He did not see fit so 
to sustain it that evil and corruption should not come in. Man 
sinned, and the world was cmrsed for his sake. Just, then, as 
creation, having departed from its original condition, is no proof 
that God did not form it ' very good, so the fact of the text of 
Scripture, having been disfigured by various readings, is no proof 
that it was not originally inspired in the fullest sense of the word. 
These considerations do prove, however, that God has in fact not 

seen 



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1849.] Tischendorfs Greek Testament. 215 

seen fit to preserve by mirsu^ulous power either the one or the 
other in its pristine purity. 

What does verbal inspiration really mean ? Surely just this — 
that the inspiration of the whole involves the inspiration of all the 
parts of which that whole consists ; that as the books of Scripture 
were such as the Holy Ghost intended them to be, so the words 
were equally such as He intended : and thus we read (Heb. iii. 7), 
* the Holy Ghost saith/ followed by a Scripture citation. The 
question is not about tlie term * verbal inspiration,' but whether 
die inspired writers of Scripture wrote what the Holy Ghost 
intended they should write or not. If noty then it would be in 
vain to argue on the plainest passage of Scripture, for it might 
always be objected that perhaps the words of tlie passage pro- 
ceeded merely from the writer ; and thus the thought (of which 
the word is but the exponent) might be wholly explained away. 
All who regard the Scripture as inspired use its statements and its 
words as authoritative. Take away the idea of completeness from 
inspiration, and what remains of this authority ? 

Tischendorf points out the resemblance of the text of Tregelles' 
Apocalypse to his own in that book : he notices some errata in 
the citations of various readings, all of which, however, had been cor- 
rected by the editor before he published the English version (again 
revised) of the Revelation according to ancient authorities. This 
volume is also mentioned by Tischendorf, together with the Pro- 
spectus of a critical edition of the Greek New Testament, which 
accompanied it. He thus concludes this notice: — *Nuperrime 
iterum edidit translationem suam Apocalypseos anglicam, in quo 
opere pronuntiat editionem graecam et latinam totius Ni Ti a se 
prseparatam. Laoores quos in hunc finem in itineribus suis sus- 
cepit ad plures eorundem codicum antiquissimorum pertinebant 
quos ipse studiis novis excussi ; mea vero magnam partem igno- 
rabat quum de suis referebat. Nunc ipsum aliis laboribus invi- 

f'lat, quos non dubito ad rem criticam promovendam facturos. 
rosperum operis successum ex animo opto.' 

We must here conclude for the present our remarks on Tischen- 
dorfs new edition of the New Testament. We are truly glad 
that it has appeared ; and it will, we doubt not, be found par- 
ticularly useful, especially to critical students. In our remarks 
we have endeavoured to give such information, &c., as we have 
thought it desirable that a reader should possess in connection 
with this edition. We hope ere long to continue our notice of 
this volume ; the subjects to which we shall have then to draw 
attention are, ihe critical aidsy i. e. MSS., versions, &c., (in- 

Q 2 eluding 



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21fi Tischendorfs Greek Testament. [Oct. 

eluding a notice of the MSS., the texts of which Tischendorf has 
puhlished), and the text itself. On these suhjects we hope to 
bring forward such points of information as will be of value to the 
Biblical student, — some of which we have collected from various 
sources, and some have resulted from our own investigations. 
We only add, that whatever estimate be formed of the critical 

5rinciples or the execution of this edition, still the place which 
^ischendorf occupies amongst critical collators is about the 
highest : few have accomplished the half of what he has per- 
formed. 



*^* We feel bound to point out that which could not so well 
have been indicated by the Reviewer — the handsome manner in 
which Tischendorf everywhere acknowledges his obligations to 
the collations sent to him from time to time by Mr. Tregelles. 
In the latter part of the Prolegomena his name occurs in almost 
every page. To ourselves, this kind of intercourse and acknow- 
ledgment, between the scholars of our own country and of the 
Continent, is a source of the highest gratification, in which we 
doubt not that most of our readers will partake. — Editor. 



m 



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1849.] ( 217 ) 



AN 
INTRODUCTION TO THE BOOK OF JOSHUA.* 

By Karl F. Keil, Ph.D., D.D., 

Professor of Exegesis and Oriental Languages in the University of Dorpat, 

Translated by Benjamin Dayies, Ph.D., Leipsic 



The Aiithar*s Preface, 

The book of Joshua has, it is true, been written upon of late 
years by Manner and Rosenmiiller; but how little satisfaction 
both their works afford, in a theological point of view, is known to 
all who acknowledge in the historical writings of the Old Testa- 
ment the sources of sacred history, the records of the Lord's 
dealings with his chosen covenant people. Even the explanation 
of objects and things has been so little advanced by these works, 
that— to say nothing of the researches of Robinson, which have 
appeared since then, and which alone would render necessary a 
new commentary on this book — it will not be needful to offer a 
special apology for sending forth another exegetical work, pro- 
ceeding from the principles of divine revelation, and prepared 
with a careful comparison of the successful results of the earlier 
theological expositions, as well as of the later philological and 
archseolo^cal investigations. The historical books of the Old 
Testament have unhappily been too much neglected hitherto, so 
that every production in this department is under necessity, in the 
first place and chiefly, to combat false and perverse views, which 
are directly opposed to the spirit of the biblical revelation, to 
clear away the many errors which have been widely spread . 
through the superficial mode of handling the Old Testament his- 
tory ; and hence can but pave the way for a theological and 
practical commentary, rather than furnish one complete. With 
the rejection of the revelation of the Old Testament, rationalism 
has been obliged to reject also its history, because this history is, 
and declares itself to be, nothing else than the accoimt of the 

» This Introduction is prefixed to the author's * Commentary on Joshua,' pub- 
lished in 1847 — a most elaborate production, highly creditable to the scholarship 
and soundness of that rapidly extending evangelical school in Germany to which 
Professor Keil belongs. To show the character of the work the Preface is giyen 
as well as the Introduction. This Introduction requires to be studied rather than 
read, and will, we think, reward the attention it exacts,— Editob. 

divine 



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218 An Introduction to the Book of Joshua. [Oct. 

divine revelation imfolding itself in the course of ages. To the 
rationalist the historical books of the Old Testament have lost 
value and meaning as writings claiming historical credit, so that 
now only criticism can deal with them, and resolve their contents 
into myths and legends ; by which process a scanty residuum of 
loose historical matter remains, as a muddy basis that cannot be 
done away, but which defies all attempts to form upon it a con- 
sistent history of the Israelites, and allows, at best, only of a 
fancy picture in the way of historical fiction, without reality and 
life, as even the latest attempt of this kind made by Ewald has 
most clearly shown. 

From this method of handling the Old Testament history, the 
revived believing theology sufiers this great disadvantage, that it 
can find no objectively sure ground and point of sight, and is able 
to put forward only subjective views and opinions on the funda- 
mental articles involving the revelation and inspiration of the 
Holy Scriptures, without supplying a scientific and historical basis 
for the same. For the Christian revelation cannot be correctly 
known and comprehended, without a thorough knowledge of the 
preparatory revelation of the Old Testament ; and this again not 
without a thorough study of the Old Testament history, from 
which also the prophetic writings first receive the light necessary 
for understanding them. The language which our Lord used to 
the Samaritan woman at Jacob's well, ' Ye worship ye know not 
what ; we know what we worship ; for salvation is of the Jews ' 
(John iv. 22), applies also to every theology that mistakes and 
ignores the historical progressive development of the divine plan 
of redemption. If, therefore, we wish the scientific theology of 
the evangelical church to be again firmly established, we must 
drive rationalism out of the Old Testament, where as yet it has 
so firm a footing, that not a few eminent theologians despair of 
being able any more to rescue the Jides humana et divina of the 
historical books — for no other reason than that they have not 
independently examined these writings, but only read them under 
the guidance and in the obscure light of the neological criticism 
and exegesis. The design and aim accordingly of my Commentary 
on Joshua, as also of the one I published not long ago on the 
books of the Kings, which shall be followed, if God will, by a 
similar work on the remaining historical books of the Old Testa- 
ment, is to help in breaking the sway of rationalism in the Old 
Testament, in confuting the wide-spread prejudices which have 
grown into formal articles of faith, and in promoting the true and 
believing understanding of the ancient Scriptures. 

With this object before me I have neglected, as quite foreign 
to the plan of my work, not only the constant critical comparis(»i 

of 



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1849.] An Introduction fy) the Booh of Joshua. 219 

of the ancient versions, but also the collation of the printed frae- 
ments from the Samaritan book of Joshua. I do not, indeed, hold 
the Masoretic text for infallible and faultless, but yet I regard it 
as more original, and, with very rare exceptions, also more accu- 
rate than the very corrupt text of the utterly loose Alexandrian 
version, to which many a modem critic is disposed again to assign 
the general preference, taking it on the whole for the original and 
undamaged text of the Old Testament. So also I do not believe 
that Joshua's history can receive any real elucidation from the 
patchwork of the Samaritans, which appears, on all external and 
internal grounds, to be of very late date. And although an 
impartial and careful critical comparison of the Hebrew original 
with the ancient versions, and also of the contents and spirit of 
the historical writings of the Old Testament with the later Jewish 
and Samaritan reproductions of the Hebrew history, is of no 
small importance as confirming theology and the church in the 
belief of the integrity and trustworthiness of our canonical books ; 
yet the church at present needs, above all things, that the contents 
of the Old Testament should be opened up for her again in 
clearness and purity, and so brought to her consciousness, to the 
end that the God of Israel may again be universally acknowledged 
as the eternal and unchangeably faithful, as the only true and 
living God, who in hie dealings with Israel had regard to the 
welfare and admonition of us all ; since he chose Abraham and 
his seed for his people and the depositary of his revelations, that 
from them the salvation of the whole world should proceed, and 
that in them all the nations of the earth might be blessed. 

Should the present work afford aid towards supplying the want 
of the evangelical church, then it has accomplished its purpose. 
May the Lord Grod grant it ! 

§ I. Name, Contents j and Design of the Booh of Joshua, 

The name of the book is taken from its contents, which embrace 
the history of the Theocracy under the guidance of Joshua, the 
son of Nun, who, as the servant of Moses, was ordained by the 
Lord as his successor, to continue and to complete his work by 
leading the people of Israel into the possession of Canaan, the 
land promised to the fathers. The narrative accordingly begins 
with the divine summons which Joshua received after the death of 
Moses to undertake the leadership of the people, to which he had 
already been called ; and it closes with the death and burial of 
Joshua, and of his contemporary, the high priest Eleazer. Joshua 
was called not only to conquer the land of Canaan, and to extirpate 
its inhabitants before Israel, but also to divide it among the tribes 

of 



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220 An Introduction to the Booh of Joshua. [Oct. 

of Israel (i. 2-6). This book, therefore, consists of two principal 
parts or halves ; the^r*^ (i.-xii.) giving the invasion and conquest 
of the land, and the second (xiii.-xxiv.) its distribution among the 
Israelites. Yet this does not fully express its contents. As the 
call of Joshua involved not only the command to conquer and 
divide Canaan, but also the promise of divine help on condition of 
the unfailing observance of God's law as delivered through 
Moses; so also this book relates not only the history of iJie 
conquest and division of the land, but also the wonderful aid 
which the Lord rendered to his people whilst taking it into pos- 
session, and all that Joshua did for the fulfilling of the Mosaic 
law, as well as for the permanent establishment of the people in 
their new country. Now, though in all these points the narrative 
is closely connected with the Pentateuch, as a continuation of the 
same, it still recapitulates Moses' account of his conquest of the 
land eastward of the Jordan, and its distribution among the 
two tribes and a half, together witli the appointment of the three 
cities of refuge in that territory, in order to give a complete view 
of the course of events in Israel's taking possession of the whole 
land on both sides of the river. 

The author of our book had, accordingly, in view neither a 
mere description of Joshua's great deeds, nor yet a mere history 
of the Theocracy under Joshua, with a continuation of the nar- 
rative in the Pentateuch from the death of Moses to that of 
Joshua. He designed rather to show, along with the historical 

Eroof of Joshua's faithful fulfilment, by divine aid, of the call he 
ad received, how God fulfilled his promise to the fathers by 
rooting out the Canaanites before Israel, and giving their land for 
an abiding possession to the twelve tribes of Jacob. Thus the 
book forms, notwithstanding its close connection with the Penta- 
teuch, an independent and complete work, as the historical record 
of the conquest and partition oi the land, which the Lord gave to 
his chosen people that they might live therein and serve him in 
love and faithAilness. 

§ 11. Unity of the Booh of Joshua. 

The closer examination of the contents, as set forth in my 
Commentary at the commencement of both parts of the book, and 
still more fully by L. Kcjenig,^ affords unquestionable evidence of 
unity throughout. Nevertheless, this unity has been denied by 
various critics down to our day, and the history, robbed of its 
coherence, has been cut up into fragments for very insufficient 

^ Alt-test l^udien, 1 heft, Authentier dea B, Joshua, p. 4, seq. 

reasons. 



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1849.] An Introduction to tlie Book of Joshua. 221 

reasons. After the example of Nachtigall,*' it was sought by 
Bertholdt* and Meyer* to apply to this book the hypothesis of 
fragments on which they fondly resisted in regard to the Penta- 
teuch. Bertholdt finds m * the many repetitions of one and the 
same thing,' and 'still more in the fragmentary character of 
single passages and the completeness of others/ a 'speaking 
proof that the book was not written continuously and connect- 
edly as one whole;' yet he thinks the first eleven chapters 
clearly constitute a whole, and only the second half of the book 
is made up of mere fragments. Meyer, on the contrary, is of 
opinion that ' the book appears for the greater part to have been 
an ori^nal whole, made up of distinct narratives generally arranged 
after the order of the events, and very easily forming connection 
one with another,' but that ' yet in the first half more than in the 
last we may pretty clearly distinguish some glosses of later date, 
and some heterogeneous fragments introduced into the text, per- 
haps from fragmentary records which related to the events in 
question.' De Wette declared decidedly against the supposition 
of glosses, and urged especially the ' con^^ictions and discre- 
pancies between particular passages in the book,' as a proof of 
its being a compilation from various fragments, without, however, 
giving, in the first four editions of his IntrodMction to the Old Test,^ 
a definite representation of its composition. In the mean time 
Eichhom ' and Paulus,* in order to get rid of the miracles which 
ofiended them in Joshua's history, had maintained that the book 
was composed partly from distinct historical notices, and partly from 
fabulous traditions, and had tried to show a double source in the 
accounts of the passage over the Jordan and of the taking of Ai.** 
Maurer * justly opposed these notions, and fully refuted them. At 
the same time he sought to determine more precisely the composition 
of the book. According to his view (p. 13) ' the first part consists 
of a distinct whole (ch. i.-xi.), only interrupted by two smaller in- 
terpolations (iv. 9, and viii. 12, 13) and two larger (viii. 30-35 and 
X. 12-15), and provided with an appropriate conclusion, and of 

^ Fragmente uber die allmahlige Bildung der den Israeliten heiligen Schriften, 
in Henke'g Magax. iv. 2, p. 362, seq,, and in Eichhorn'g All^, Bihl. iv. p. 1088, seq, 
NachtigaU finds in oar book only fingments from the earliest times of authorship 
among the Israelites, remnants of a roller poetic story, together with poetic and 
prosaic additions and supplements fh)m other earlier and later descriptions, and 
with glosses by the compiler. 

^ Eifdeitung, iii. 849, sea. 

* Ueber die Bestandtheue und die Oeconomie des B, Josi^ in Ammon and 
Bertholdf 8 Krit, Journal^ ii. 337, eeq, 

' JEinleiL iii. 382, seq, 

8 Bliehe in d. B, JosuOy in his Tkeol. Exeg. Conservai. ii. 149, seq, 
^ Paolus does this only with thef first account, which he holds to be derived from 
a simple and from a poetic source. 

* (Jommentar, u d, B. Josua, 

ch. 



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222 An Introduction to the Book of Joshua. [OcL. 

ch. xii. forming the register to the foregoing, in which the author 
inserted a distinct fragment by another hand (ver, 9-24). In the 
second part, traces more or less clear of original disconnectedness 
and earlier production are seen in the statement in xiii. 2-6 ; 
in the account in xiv. 6-15 ; in the chorography of the tribe of 
Juda (xv. 1-12) ; in the list of cities belonging to the same (xv. 
20-62) ; in the chorography of the children of Joseph (xvi. 1-4) ; 
in that of Ephraim (ver. 5-10) ; in that of the seven last tribes 
(xviii. 11-xix. 51) ; and, finally, in the sanction of the Theocracy' 
(xxiii., xxiv. 1-28). This view makes the composition of the book 
fragmentary, especially in the second part. 

Independently of these views, C. H. van Herwerden, of Holland, 
had ^ discovered in the language of this book ten different monu" 
menta or original documents, from which he thought it to be com- 

1)iled. But his linguistic observations betray a great lack of phi- 
ological acumen, and his whole argument is so little stringent that 
his hypothesis has found no accord in Germany, at least. 

Against De Wette, Maurer, and Herwerden, Konig came 
forward in the above-named Alt-test. Studien^ and defended very 
ably and thoroughly the unity of the book from the continuous 
coherence of the contents, from the identity of the thoughts and 
of the whole spirit, as also from the identity of the language. 
He maintained, too, the composition of the whole book by Joshua, 
but not with convincing arguments. Havernick also » is decided 
against the parcelling of the book into fragments, and defends 
with success the unity of the first half; but in the second he 
admits the fragmentary origin, and so fails to give a clear and 
tenable view of the umty and composition of the whole." 

Although the investigations of these two critics are not quite 
free from defects and weak points, yet they have so ably combated 
the theory of fragments, that the neological critics have ignored 
rather than refuted their reasoning. These writers followed the 
bints of Bleek ® and Ewald p on the original connection of the 
documents which formed the basis of both the Pentateuch and 
Joshua ; then they applied Tuch's new modification "i of the anti- 
quated hypothesis of the Elohim and Jehovah documents to our 
book, which they insist is made up from the same pretended elo- 
histic source, which is imagined to be the groimdwork of the first 

^ Disputatio de Libro Jos,, Gron. 1 826. 

™ Handbuch d. hist. krit. Einleitung, ii. 1. 12, seq. 

» The invalidity of Havernick's arguments (loc. cit, p. 25) against the unity of 
the second part has been already shown in my article («&«• die JParallelstellen im 
B. Josua und im B. der Bichter) in Rudelbach and Guericke's Zeitschrifi, 1846, 
H. 1, ^.9, seq. 

° Rosenmiiller's Bepert, i. 44, seq. 

P TheoL Studien u. Kritiken, 1831, p. 262. i Comment, zur Genesis. 

four 



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1849.] An Introdttction to the Book of Joshua. 223 

four books of Moses, and from later jehovistic portions, the same 
as the basis of Deuteronomy. This view has been carried out 
especially by Stahelin,' who fancied he could distinctly show two 
different styles of language and thought in our book, «. e. one style 
in the geographical, and another in the historical sections. His 
results were adopted, with only minor modifications, by both De 
Wette ■ and C. von Lengerke.* Ewald pursued the same purpose 
in his Geschichte des Volks Israel^ where he has striven to carry 
still further the reduction of the historical books of the Old Testa- 
ment into the original fragments. G. A. Hauff,"* on the contrary, 
thought it enou^ to give StaheUn's results, and, without any 
notice of Konig's and I&vemick's solutions, to reiterate and mag- 
nify the alleged contradictions in our book, in order to ground 
upon them a peculiar theory of so-called revelation and inspiration. 
To show more in detail the method of this criticism and its 
results, we will cite from Ewald's Geschichte^ i. 73, seq. : * The 

freat book of primitive history,' as he calls the Pentateuch and 
oshua, ' imderwent various great changes and recastings before 
it emerged from the flood of similar productions as the only one 
which appeared to men of a later age worthy of preservation, and 
that which must now serve us in lieu of all other works upon the 
later history. Before it received its last touches, earlier historical 
works and sources of most various kinds had been already incor- 
porated in it, like rivers meeting in the sea.' Among these 
earlier sources of the Pentateuch and Joshua, Ewald believes he 
can show the following : — 1. Numerous fragments of the oldest 
historical work, which he calls ' the Book of the Covenants,' 
dating from the age of the Judges, but containing single pieces 
from the times of Moses and still more remote. 2. ' The Book of 
the Origins,' composed in the first thirteen years of Solomon's 
reign, by a distinguished Levite, * more as a book of law than of 
history,' in which Moses is set forth especially as the lawgiver and 
leader of the holy assembly under the head of the sacerdotal 
tribe, and which uses the materials handed down by tradition, in 
order to bring into a fixed historical framework the laws and 
ordinances which at that time were in force, as if coming from 
Moses himself. 3. Single portions, by a prophetic narrator of the 
primeval history, whose aim was to trace back the prophetic 
element to the times of Moses and the patriarchs, and to portray 
the intrinsic dignity and loftiness of Moses as a prophet. 4. Out 

' Studien u, Kritiken, 1835, p. 472; and Kritischen Untersuch. iiber den Pent., 
die BB, Josua^ Richter, ^c, Berlin, 1843 

" In the fifth and sixth editions of his EinUitung, § 168. 

* Kenaan, i. cxxxv. seq, 

« OffenbarungagL «. Kritik d& bihl, Geschichtsbucher, Stuttg. 1848. 

of 



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224 An Introduction to the Book of Joshua, [Oct. 

of these three elahorations of the original history and various 
older fragments, a fourth narrator, in the beginning of the eighth 
century b. c, prepared the present Pentateuch and the hook of 
Joshua, except certain parts of still later interpolatioa This 
narrator handles the legendary materials quite freely, according to 
the prophetic point of view, so that * he remoulds much with his 
own hand after his own idea, as his age seemed to require, hut yet 
the most is either simply repeated from older writings, or slightly 
altered here and there ; and hence he is on the whole a collector 
imd compiler, rather than an independent author and original 
historian/ 5. And, finally, there were interpolated, in the times 
of Manasseh and Josiah, by the writer of Deuteronomy, the section 
in Levit xxvi. 3-45, the whole book of Deuteronomy (except 
ch. xxxii. 48-52 and xxxiv. 1-9), and several portions of the book 
of Joshua. Ewald supposes that in this book ch. ii. 5, 13-ch. vi., 
and viii., came from the third and fourth narrators ; ch. i., xxiii., 
and xxiv. from the author of Deuteronomy, to whom also he 
ascribes many single additions and modifications, also the pieces in 
ch. viii. 30 -ix. 2, and ch. x.-xiii. 14 as it regards in part the con- 
tents, but chiefly the mode of representation or arrangement; all the 
rest coming from the two oldest narrators of the primeval history."* 
This fine-spun theory is only an acute expansion of the view of 
Tuch, Stahelin, and others, viz., that the Pentateuch and Joshua are 
based on an older work, commonly called the elohim record, which 
in later times was revised and enlarged by the adoption of many 
new stories. Most of what Ewald ascribes to the three first 
narrators of the primitive history is traced by these critics back to 
the elohim record, while they admit that this record itself is based 
on various older written documents, but without any hope of 
being able to carry the analysis further. These ascribe to the 
jehovist what Ewald assigns to the fourth narrator ; and, finally, 
the last additions are regarded by Ewald and the other critics as 
the work of the writer of Deuteronomy, whom Stahelin alone 
identifies with the jehovist. In the chief results, therefore, Ewald 
coincides with the rest of the neological critics, but differs much 
from them in the mode of gaining his object. While they strive 
in a critical fashion to establish their hypothesis by bringing 
forward the varying and, as they allege, contradictory accounts, as 
well as by showing a double usage of language in the books 
handed down to us, Ewald constructs in a dogmatical fashion a 
diffuse theory about tradition and fable, and their changing forms, 
and founds on it his dissection of our histories into their supposed 
original parts, without any other principle of analysis than the 

' Gesckichte, L 137. " Geschichie, ii. 227, sea. 

old 



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1849.] An Introduction to the Book of Joshua^ 225 

old rationalistic assumption, that a supernatural revelation with 
miracles and predictions is neither actual nor possible ; that the 
whole theocratic view of the Tsraelitish history is a mere product 
of poetic fable ; that the people of Israel was not chosen by the 
Lord God to be the depositary of his revelation, and led by extra- 
ordinary divine messengers to the fulfilling of this heavenly calling, 
but raised itself, by means of distinguished men and heroes, 
according to the natural and intellectual gifts implanted by the 
Creator, to the elevation which it has attained among the nations 
of the earth. This prejudice of the vulgar rationalism is equally 
the fundamental assumption and the guiding principle according 
to which the different sources of the history are decided. Thus 
those parts of the Pentateuch where the theocratic point of view 
is not conspicuous are declared to be fragments out of the most 
ancient historical work, and those where the prophetic character 
of Moses is prominent are assigned to the latest sources. The age 
of the respective soiu-ces is settled according to the time to whi(S, 
on Ewald's supposition, the prophecies contained in them refer, 
because the prophecies are only veiled poetic descriptions of the 
present, or at most only forebodings of the fatiu-e as already 
indicated in the present, so that real predictions do not exist. In 
vain do we look for critical proofs in Ewald's decision about the 
sources of the Old Testament history. It is true he does not 
omit to point out in every historical work he handles a peculiar 
colouring of the language ; but the characteristic examples he 
gives of particular words and phrases can have no great force, 
since he adds the general remark, that the later narrators copied 
words and phrases from the earlier, and besides altered not 
unfrequently the expression of the older writings ; so that it is no 
longer rational to speak of a peculiar usage of language as a 
characteristic mark of the individual sources. His entire theory 
is, therefore, built on the sand, devoid of all objective truth, and 
neither capable nor worthy of examination in detail, since it dis- 
penses with scientific principle. The other critics brought forward 
whatever critical grounds can be alleged for this view. The fol- 
lowing, in particular, are the groimds, taken partly firom differences 
about things and partly from peculiarities of language, which 
they have adduced for the composition of the book of Joshua out 
of elohistic and jehovistic or deuteronomic records, of which the 
former are supposed * to be found chiefly in the geographic, and 
the latter in the historic sections of the work. 

» Stahelin reckons accordingly {JKrit. Untersuch, p. 88, seq,) that ch. xiii. 15- 
xiv. 6, ch. xv.-xvii. 13, and ch. xviii. 11-xxi., belong to the geographic sections, 
while all the rest of the book belongs to the historic, of which only ch. v. 10-12 
and ch. xxii. show the language of the elohim source, which he thinks is owing to 
the remoulding of these two chapters. 

L Under 



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226 An Introduction to the Book of Joshua, [Oct. 

I. Under differences or contradictions in regard to things, 
Hauff and De Wette maintain : 1. ' That Joshua has, according 
to one part of the book, fully conquered the land of Canaan, and 
driven out all the inhabitants (xi. 16-23, xii. 7, seq. ; comp. xxi. 43, 
seq.^ xxii. 4) ; while, on the contrary, there still remained, according 
to ch. xiii. 1, seq. (comp. xvii. 14, seq. ; xviii. 3 ; xxiii. 5, 12) con- 
siderable tracts unconquered and in the hands of the unexpelled 
Canaanites.'y Were this contradiction admitted, still it would prove 
nothing for the opponent's hypothesis, since it is not true that the 
historical or jehovistic-deuteronomic portions of our book make 
no mention of unconquered land and unexpelled Canaanites ; for 
in ch. xxiii., which all the critics count among the historical 
sections, it is said most clearly (vers. 4-13) that Canaanitish 
nations were still in the land and holding possessions in it. But 
all this contradiction is only in appearance, and arises only from a 
twofold aspect, an objective ideal and a subjective real view of the 
relation which runs through the book, but has not been recog- 
nised by the opponents, since, in spite of the unity asserted be- 
tween it and the Pentateuch, they (Kd not perceive that the Pen- 
tateuch presents the desired means of reconciling the two sides of 
the picture. The objective ideal view found in the historical part 
of our book, and according to which the seizure of the whole land 
and the expulsion of all the Canaanites are declared as facts, 
rests throughout on the divine promises contained in the Penta- 

y Hauff. p. 73, seq., 109-116 -, De Wette, § 167. Stahelin {loc. cit. p. 87) gives 
this argument a somewhat different turn, alleging * that in the historical part 
the extirpating of the Canaanites is commanded, and Joshua is said, with praise, 
to have done this as far as possible (x. 40 ; xi. 14, 15) ; while in the geographical 
part it is, without blame, mentioned what tribes did not extirpate the CanaaniteSy 
but only made them tributary.' But the biblical text pronounces neither praise 
on Joshua's work nor direct blame on the Israelites for not extirpating the 
Canaanites, but says simply that Joshua did what Jehovah had command^ his 
servant Moses, and Moses had delivered to Joshua, and left nothing undone of all 
that Jehovah had. commanded Moses (xi. 15). But it may very well be true, in 
consistency with this, that Joshua did not extirpate all the Canaanites to the last 
man, and that particular tribes were not able, in taking possession of their allot- 
ment of land, to drive out the remaining Canaanites from this place and that 
The remarks in the geographical part (xv. 63; xvi. 10; xvii. 12, 13) on the non- 
expulsion of the Canaanites from individual cities do not contain the smallest 
approval of that circumstance, but merely give the simple fact, which is moreover 
excused in the case of two tribes by their inability (they could not drive out the 
Canaanites, xv. 63 ; xvii. 12). It is therefore wholly erroneous, when Stahelin 
further maintains (p. 88) that the geographical sections have a milder character 
than the historical, since they never blame the sparing of the Canaanites, and since 
ch. XX. 9 appears to imply that strangers also dwelt m Israel, enjoying, at least in 
some respects, equal rights with the Israelites. This latter observation, even if it 
were correct and not refuted by ch. viii. 35, could not prove anything unless we 
must understand by the strangers in ch. xx. 9 only Canaanites who had been spared 
though doomed to destruction, or unless the so-called elohistic portions of the 
Pentateuch alone presuppose strangers in Israel, both which conditions are alike 
inadmissible and erroneous. 

teuch, 



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1849,] An Introduction to the Book of Joshiuu 227 

teuch, and must be judged of accordingly. In these promises 
the Lord declared his will to give Canaan to his people Israel for 
a possession, and to destroy the Canaanites before them. This 
came to pass through Joshua. He smote the inhabitants in all 
directions, and seized their land so far that the Israelites became 
masters of it, and the Canaanites were confined to particular 
places and districts as powerless fugitives. Herein the divine 
promise was fulfilled, which declared the complete, but not the 
sudden outrooting of all the Canaanites to the last man (Exod. 
xxiii. 28-30 ; Deut. vii. 22). When, therefore, the author of our 
book closed the history of the conquest of Canaan with these 
words, ' So Joshua took the whole land, according to all that the 
Lord said unto Moses' (xi. 23); he had no occasion to give 
expressly the ' exceptions,' L e. the unsubdued cities and districts 
and the ancient inhabitants that still remained, since the whole 
land, notwithstanding these exceptions, was so taken into pos- 
session as the Lord had spoken to Moses. On the other hand, it 
was necessary to mention these exceptions, and to give the sub- 
jective real position of things at the division of me land, both 
because the divine command to effect the division was induced 
thereby (xiii. 1-7), and because Joshua was bound to partition 
the whole land alike, the conquered and the still unconquered 
parts. That these two points of view do not involve a contra- 
diction is clear enough from the fact that, even in the geo- 
graphical sections, where the exceptions are named, the same 
objective ideal view is taken as in the historical parts, since 
Joshua receives the command to make no difference, in the 
division of the land, between what was already conquered and 
what remained independent, and accordingly parcels out the 
whole land without exception as a heritage to the tribes, inasmuch 
as the Lord had promised to drive out before them the Canaanites 
that were still left.* 

2. These critics observe further, ' that in one part of the book 
(i. 6 ; xi. 23 ; xii. 7 ; xiv. 1-5) we are led to expect an uninter- 

" To strengthen the contradiction, above set aside, De Wette adds that the passages 
in ch. xii. 10, 12, 16, 21, 23, according to which the kings of Jerusalem, Gezer, 
Bethel, Megiddo, and Dor were slain by Joshua, are at variance with xv. 63 (not 
V. 69, as in De Wette), comp. Judg. i. 21 ; with xvi. 10, comp. Judg. i. 29, 32 ; and 
with ch. xvii. 12, comp. Judg. i. 27 ; for according to these passages, the cities in 
question remaincKl in the hands of the Canaanites. But even Lengerke {Kenaan, 
i. 670) has owned the correctness of Konig's remark (p. 1 9), that a distinction 
must be made between the slaughter of the kings and the capture of their cities, 
against which distinction ch. xii. 7 does not in the least militate. And as to the 
alleged contradictions relative to the conquest of Hebron and Debir, and the 
expulsion of the Anakims from the mountains, between ch x. 36, 38, and xi. 21, 
on the one side, and ch. xiv. 12 and xv. 14-17 on the other, De Wette could not 
bring them forward again without completely ignoring the valid refhtations Air* 
nished long ago by Havemick and others. 

rupted 



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228 An Introduction to the Book of Joshtuz. [Oct. 

rupted and uniform division of the land ; but in the other this 
business appears at a stand-still, professedly through the inactivity 
of the people (xviii. 3). It is again resumed, seemingly, at 
another place, Shiloh (xviii. 1 ; xix. 51), and the previous partition 
is altered in several points ' (Hauff, p. 119, seq. ; De Wette, 
p. 232). The latter remark is quite right, and shows that the 
expectation of the critics was unfoimded, since neither of the 
places cited speaks of an * uninterrupted' division. 

3. ' According to ch. i.-xii. and xxii. the people remained together 
until the land was conquered, divided in a peaceful and orderly way, 
and taken into possession by each tribe according to its allotment ; 
on the contrary, in ch. xv. 13, seq,^ xvii. 14, seq., xix. 47, we find 
single tribes going forth for conquests on their own account* 
(Haufi; p. 117 ; De Wette, p. 232). This contradiction could be 
made out by Hauff, who first alleged it, only by a transposition 
of the accounts in our book, i. e. by assuming that the conquests 
mentioned in ch. xv., xvii., xix., took place before the death of 
Joshua and the division of the land, whereas they were afier the 
same, according to the plain statement of the text. 

4. ^ The repeated statements, which represent the religious 
worship of the people as quite conformable to the law, are at 
variance with ch. xxiv. 23, according to which the people still 
served strange eods.' But this passage sets forth no gross idolatry, 
but only a leaning of the heart towards strange gods, which can 
easily consist with the outward regularity and propriety of reli- 
gious worship. 

Hauff (p. 122, seq^ has adduced other points of variation in 
the mode of thinking and the character of Joshua and the people, 
and contradictions in regard to places and persons connected 
with divine worship ; but they are so fatile, that De Wette him- 
self has attached no weight to them. We may, therefore, pass 
them quite unnoticed, and proceed to consider what Stahelin 
(p. 87) has further advanced in proof of a different mode of 
thinking in the geographical and the historical sections : — 

5. * In the historical parts, even in ch. ix., we see only Joshua's 
activity, but in the geographical we see also that of Eleazar.' 
This difference is natural ; for can we suppose the high priest, 
Eleazar, had the same calling in the theocracy as the leader of 
the hosts, Joshua ? Was it the business of the former to command 
the army, to fight battles, and to push conquests ? And do, then, 
the historical parts of the book present occasions for the high 
priest to appear at the head of the people, so that one has a ri^t 
to expect tne mention of his person ? Even in the narrative of 
ch. ix. there was nothing for Eleazar to do, since it pertained not 
to his ofiice to hold conference and conclude peace with the 

Gibeonites 



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1849.] An Introduction to the Book of Joshua. 229 

Gibeonites sent to treat with the military leader of the Israelites. 
It is quite in keeping with the contents of the historical portion, 
that Eleazar should retire behind Joshua and not be mentioned. 
But not so with the geographical portion ; for the work here 
detailed, of dividing the land, had been assigned by Moses, on 
God's command, to the representatives of the entire people, 
namely, the high priest Eleazar, and Joshua, and one prince m)m 
every tribe (Num. xxxiv. 17, 18). It was quite natural for our 
author, whenever he had to name the commission charged with 
the division of the land (xiv. 1 ; xix. 51 ; xxi. 1), to mention the 
individual members of the same in the order marked out in the 
law. Ought he to have studiously deviated therefrom ? Or if 
the opponents mean to explain the coincidence by alleging tiiat 
Num. xxxiv. comes likewise from the elohistic writer. Mien they 
ought to reflect that the same author would hardly have styled a 

* prince * K^^j in Num. xxxiv., but * head of the fathers ' ntaK B^K") 
in Joshua. The word N^bj is known as one of the peculiarities 
which our critical opponents ascribe to the elohistic usage ; why, 
then, has the elohist, in the geographical parts of our book, so 
slighted it as to employ ' heads of the fathers ' nUK ^K^l three 
times, and * princes ' D^K^3 only once, in the * half-historical 
section,' ch. xvii. 4, while the pretended jehovistic writer of our 
book mentions the * princes' D^K^i^a in six places (ix. 15, 18, 19, 
21; xxii. 14, 30)? 

6. * In the historical sections the Dnpb shoterim (i. 10 ; iii. 2), 
or the elders and judges with them (viii. 33 ; xxiii. 2, to which 
may be added xxiv. 1), appear active on every occasion ; but the 

* heads of the fathers of the tribes ' nteijn ntaK ^g^ in the geo- 
graphical sections (xxi. 1 ; xiv. 1).' This difference, which Stahelin 
adduces in regard to language, but which is essentially one relating 
to facts, is explained like the preceding by the simple consideration, 
that the shoterim, elders, and judges, aid not belong to the com- 
misaon appointed by Moses for the partition of the land. 

7. The further remark, * that in ch. i. 4 the Euphrates is given 
as the east border of the possessions of the Hebrews, while it is 
stated quite otherwise in ch. xiii. 13, 5cy.,' rests on a total forget- 
fiilness of the oratorical character of the first passage, which 

Eurports to give no precise notarial description of the boimdaries, 
ut only as a divine promise to indicate them by well-known 
external points within which tiie land to be given to the Israelites 
should lie. 

8. Stahelin goes on to say, ^ that in ch. xv. 11, 33 (should be 
45-47) the Pnilistine cities appear in the possession of Judah, 
which is specially confirmed by ver. 63, for it would else have 

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. R 



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230 An Introduction to the Booh of Joshua. [Oct 

been mentioned that the Hebrews could not drire out the Philis- 
tines; whereas cL xiii. 3 shows quite differently, and in the 
geographical part no mention whatever is made of that people.' 
But it does not follow from ch. xy. 11, where the border oi Judah 
is said to reach northward to the side of Ekron, and from ver. 43- 
45, where Ekron, Gaza, Ashdod, and the places around are 
allotted to tiiat tribe, that these cities were in the actual possession 
of Judah. Nor does this follow from ver. 63 ; for the writer had 
already in ch. xiii. 2-7 not only named the country of the five lords 
of the Philistines among the districts still unconquered at the 
beginning of the partition, but also mentioned the divine command 
to distribute the land that yet remained in the power of the 
Canaanites, inasmuch as the Lord intended to drive out before 
Israel these unsubdued nations. There would then have been an 
unnecessary repetition, had he again in ch. xv. named all the 
unconquered cities. One cannot after this, unless with Stahelia 
he arbitrarily severs the beginning and the introduction from the 

feographical part, say that it makes no mention at all of the 
^hiustines, or, as he subsequently puts it, that the geographical 
part knows nothing yet of the Philistines in the Pentapolis. If we 
preserve the text in its integrity and coherence, all discrepancy 
vanishes away, 

9. Finally, Stahelin says, ' the source of the geographical 
notices is very exact in its statements ; gives introductory remarks 
to longer paragraphs (xiv. 1-5), and almost never forgets, after 
specifying the portion of a tribe, to add a closing sentence (xv. 
12; xvi. 9; xviii. 20, 28; xix. 8, 16, 23, 31, 39, 48; xx. 9), 
even as it finishes the account of the division of the land with a 
longer cloang sentence ' (xix. 51). But the historical part also, in 
its larger sections, does not lack either introductory remarks 
(comp. only v. 1 ; ix. 1 ; x. 1 ; ^. 1), or formal titles (comp. xii. 
1, 7), or closing expressions (comp. x, 40-43 ; xL 23 ; xiv. 15). 
And is not the account of the conquest of the land finished with a 
longer closing remark? (xi. 16-23). The less frequent use of 
closmg expressions in the historical part, arises from the fact that 
there was nere less opportunity for applying them, since this part 
consists entirely of longer narratives of diverse contents, wiiich 
could not possibly be closed with a constantly recurring stereo- 
typed form of expression. This argument, on which ereat stress 
is laid also in tne case of the Pentateuch, does not m the least 
prove the divea^ity of the sources ; but it shows well the quite 
mechanical procedure of those critics, who seize merely on external 
4'ppearances, and have no surmise, much less an idea, of the 
relation of the form to the substance of the book. 

The differences in regsrd to things do not, therefore, prove the 
. . composition 



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1849.] An Introductim to the Book qfJoskun, 231 

compoeition of our book out of Elohistic and Jehovistic sources, 
since they involve no actual contradictions, but admit of an easy 
and natural solution. 

IL But pwhaps the differences in regard to language prove it ? 
Let us see : — 

1. Under this head, Hauff (p. 132, seq.) has urged the variation 
in style, that the entire first half of the book ' is characterised by 
a fullness of expression for deamess' sake, united with a har^ 
monious rounding in the structure of its periods ; while in several 
places of the second part the repetitions or interposed remarks are 
made, more or less, at the expense of clearness,' of which a few 
examples are given from ch. xvi. and xvii. This observation is so 
far right that we do not find in the geographical chapters lengthy 
and rounded perio<Is, such as a{)pear in the historical, and that in 
some verses of di. xvi. and xvii. the expression is obscure ; but 
this is sufficiently explained by the great difierence of the subject. 
In boundary specifications and in lists of cities there is no room 
for long periods, beautifully constructed, and the obscurity which 
appears nere and there may be due to the documents employed. 
But the cases which Haufi^ (p. 141, seq.) has adduced of different 
and peculiar words in particular places, will not prove tlie dif- 
ference of the writers c^ the particular parts so long as it is not 
shown that the things expressed by the peculiar words are men- 
tioned also elsewhere but in a different way. Hauff has not shown 
this ; Stahelin {loc. c/t.), however, has maintained the following 
indications of difference of language in the historical and the geo- 
graphical sections :-— 

2. ^ In the historical sections the word iDng^ shebet is dnefly used 
for tribe (iii. 12 ; iv. 2, 4, 12 ; vii. 14, 16 1 xviii. 2, 4, 7 ; xxii. 7, 
9, 10, 11, 13, &c. ; xxiii. 4 ; xxiv. 1), and the synonymous word 
n^D matteh appears but rarely (vii. 1 ; xxii. 1) : in the geogra- 
phical secti(His, on the contrary, we find chiefly nOD (xiii. 15, 24 ; 
xiv. 1-4 ; XV. 1, 20, 21 ; xvii, 1 ; xviii. 11 ; xix. 1, 24, 40, 48 ; 
XX, 8 ; xxi. 4-6, &c») and only seldom one? (as in xiii. 33). * This, 
double usage is constant, so that even in the naif-historical section, 
xiv* 1-5, the word riDD always stands, while in a similar one, 
xviii. 1-10, only DIK? is used.' But is the fully equivalent sense 
of these words so certain ad Stahelin assumes, so that the use <rf 
the one rather than the other depends on the accidental peculiarity 
of different writers ? Why, in that case, were the two ancient 
authors so inconsistent, that each appropriates, a few times, the 
word peculiar to the other ? For tibe author of the historical 
sections uses nDD not only twice, as Stahelin states, but four 
times (vii. 1, 18 ; xxii. 1, 14) ; and the author of the geographical 

' R 2 sections 



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232 An Introduction to the Book of Joshua. [Oct 

sections has D3(^ three times (xiii. 29, 33 ; xxi. 16). Or does 
the equivalence follow from Num. xviii. 2, Jos. xiii. 29, and Ezek. 
xix. 11, 14, where both words stand together, and bolii have the 
sense 5^0^ and trihe {baculus and tribus) ? By no means. Both 
can express the same object, but in different aspects, and hence 
are not strictly synonymous. The difierence in tneir meaning is 
clear from Ezek. xix. 11, ' and her strong staves (ri^ nitsft t. e, 
the strong branches of the vine) became sceptres of rulers (*tJ5B^ 
D^^Kio),' and ver. 14, * and a fire went out of the staff of her 
branches (n^'nj ne©p, «. e. the vine-stock), devoured her fruit, 
and there remained not in her a strong staff (tV n@Q), a sceptre 
to rule ' (^\\fft}^ ^'^^\ *• ^' ^ branch that could form a sceptre. 
Here HDD is not only distinguished from tt3K^, but also its pri- 
mary meaning clearly given. As derived from nD3 natah^ *to 
stretch out,' HDD matteh signifies a branch or rod grown out of a 
stem or root. Now since such branches or rods were cut off for 
hand-sticks, HDD signifies, 1. the. staff ov stick used by the feeble 
and the aged kr support, and hence figuratively the stay^ e. g. of 
bread (Lev. xxvi. 26, et scepe) ; 2. the st€ff of the shepherd, with 
which he tends the flock, dnves away the beasts of prey, and thence 
figuratively the staff as instrument of correction (Isa. ix. 3 ; x. 5, ^ 
s€Bpe)y but never the staff as sign of rule or authority, the sceptre. 
For also in Ps. ex. 2, and Jer. xlviii. 17, the only passages which 
seemingly favour the last mentioned sense, ty HDD signifies nothing 
but the strong staff wherewith enemies are smitten and suMued. 
On the contrary td^^, whose etymology is obscure, signifies indeed 
a stiff for smiting, e. g, Ex. xxi. 20 et scepe^ but never a staff for 
support, as Gusset, sub voce^ has correctly observed : * certe non 
tribuitur homini, ubi agitur de infirmitate corporis propter senium 
aut morbum aut iter sustentanda,' although Gesenius in his The- 
saurus still erroneously adduces Ps. xxiii. 4 for the meaning, * bacu- 
lus cui Quis innititur.' Even for the shepherd's staff it is used only 
in the pnrase * to pass under the rod ' (Lev. xxvii. 32 ; Ezek. xx. 
37), and also in the figurative passages in Ps. xxiii. 4 and Mic. vii. 
14, in all which, however, the idea of rule predominates. For D^B^, 
whatever be its derivation, denotes always the staff of the master 
or ruler, most commonly therefore the sceptre^ and it is thus clearly 
distinguished from n^D, hgo and nj^^. Inhere is quite as 
decided a difference between the words in the tropical sense tribe. 
ntDD deiiot^^ a branch of the people^ and is used of the tribes of 
Israel only when they are viewed according to their descent from 
one common ancestor, or according to their relative ramification. 
In these cases DlK^ never occurs, for this denotes the tribe as a 
corporation or political power, having independence and authority. 

While 



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1849.] An Introduction to the Book of Joshua. 233 

While therefore niDD denotes tribe from the primary sense branch 
of a tree, tD3^ does it from the sense sceptre^ and stands for the 
hody of those who are ruled by one sceptre. So Winer (Lexicon^ 
sub voce) has rightly explained it : ^ tribus Israel., quae sceptro h. e. 
duci paret, fere nt german. Fuhnlein de iis qui vexillum se- 
quuntur,' against which, however, Gesenius in his Thesaurus gives 
the untenable explanation, 'locutio est metaphorica, repetita a 
planta e cujus radice plures virgse, stirpes assurgunt,' which passes 
well for niDD, but not at all for o^K', which never means virga. 
From this difference in the sense we must explain the varying use 
of these two words in all the places in the Pentateuch and JoMiua ; 
it is only thus we can explain why noo is so common in Genesis, 
Exodus, Leviticus, and Nmnbers, and never occurs in Deute* 
ronomy ; also why both words are used together in Num. xviii. 2 
and Jos. xiii. 29, where there is no vain tautology. Because 
HDD denotes a tribe in its genealogical ramification with the other 
tribes otone people, therefore it is employed not only in the geo- 
graphical chapters of our book, which give the division of the land 
as based on the genealogy of the tribes, but also in the historical 
passages (ch. vii. 1, 8), in the account of Achan's descent, and 
in ch. xxii. 1, 14, for the half-tribe of Manasseh ; and tDl^ stands 
in the historical portions not only in ch. i.-xii., but also in ch. xviii. 
1-10, xxiii. and xxiv., because in these plax^es the tribes of Israel 
are always viewed as corporations or small independent powers, 
which view led to the use of this word ako in ch. xiii. 29, 33, and 
xxi. 16. 

3. Stahelin next observes : — * the historical part (xi. 23 ; xii. 7 ; 
xviii. 10) has the rare word ng^n©, * division,' which we never find 
in the geographical/ But the last of these passages (xviii. 10) 
belongs to the geographical part of the book ; and Stahehn could 
not maintain Sie contrary without arbitrarily reckoning to the 
liistorical part all the verses and paragraphs of the geographical 
part which give historical elucidations to the division of the land, 
and so leaving nothing else for the geographical than the specifi- 
cations of the boundaries of the several trioes and the catalogues 
of their cities. Were we now to let this arbitrary sundering of 
what is really coherent pass, still we should at least wish that he 
bad first shown whether the pieces which he leaves over to the 
geographical part, offered any occasion for the use of this word. 
The truth is, they offered none at all, for in them we never, as in 
the historical surveys, find the various divisions of the people into 
tribes, families and single households expressed under one general 

idea, which is done by ngi>0O> 'divisions;' but ihey treat only of 
the separate tribes and their subdivisions into fiimilies (n^nfi^). 

4. Stahelin 



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234 An Introduction to the Book of Joshua. [OcU 

4. Stahelin further notices, that the expression imT p!*}!> ' ^^ 
other side Jordan/ occurring in the geographical part (xiii. 32 ; 
^tI. 1 ; XX. 8) is wanting in the historical, which he maintams 
employs another phrase, ' heyond Jordan ' (xviii. 7), instead. But 
he must have stated this either without reflecting on the meaning 
of this expression, or under the conceit that it denotes in genersu 
the whole territory of Israel beyond Jordan (Peraea). Had he 
better considered the passages where the e:q>ression occurs, in 
order to ascertain its meaning, he would hare seen that it is used 
only of the plains of Moab, which lay directly east of Jericho 
(comp. Num. xxii. 1 ; xxvi. 3, 63 ; xxxi. 12 ; xxxiii. 48, 50 ; 
xxxvi. 13) ; and that it could not be used in Jos. xviii« 7, be- 
cause this place speaks of the whole land beyond Jordan giren 
to the two tribes and a half for a possession, of which the author 
of our book could not dream of saying, that it lay beyond the 
Jordan at Jericho. Num. xxxiv. 15, ^&e two tribes and a half 
have received their inheritance beyond the Jordan at Jericho east- 
ward, toward sun-rising,' will not prove the contrary, for here by 
\rxn> pn^ inw is intended not the geographical position of the in- 
heritance of these tribes, but only the place where the division of 
the country beyond Jordan among them took place, L e. the region 
over against Jericho in the plains of Moab, where the Israelites 
were then encamped. 

5. * Moses is called nin* T3jr, 'servant of Jehovah,' only in the 
historical sections.' This argument appears just, provided we 
detach from the geographical part the historical remarks that be- 
long to it as elucidations, and count them to the historical part. 
But the true state of the case is different from what we might be 
led to believe from Stahelin's words. In the whole book Moses is 
called Jehovah^s servant only seventeen times, while the simple 
name Moses is found thirty-four times, and twenty-two of these 
in the portions designated as historical by Stahelin ; and it is so 
found not only in places where the designation * servant of Je- 
hovah'^ has occurred before, so that it might be omitted for 
brevity's sake in repeating the name, but also in entire chapters, in 
nurely historical sections, e. g. iv. 10, 12, 14 ; xxiii. 6 ; xxiv. 5. 
What right then has one to infer, from the absence of this honour- 
able title of Moses in the geographical accounts of boundary lines 
and of cities, that these statements come not from the same au- 
thor as the historical sections, since the designation occurs five 
times in the historical elucidations of the geographical part (xii, 
6, Us I xiii. 8 ; xiv. 7 ; xviii. 7). 

6. * In the historical sections the priests are called " the priests 
the Levitts" finWi Xi'^yiX:ir\ (iii. 3.; viii, 33), or only "priests" oonM 
... .. (iii-. 



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1849.] An Introdwction to the Book ofJodiuH, S35 

(iii. 6, 15, and a few times in ch. yi.) ; but in the geograpbical 
portion, in ch. xxi. 4, 9, 13, 19, they are called sons of Aaron.' 
This plea is set aside by the simple feurt that in ch. xxL the priests 
came into consideration not according to their office, but accord<> 
ing to their genealc^y, while the division of the territories took 
place according to the lineal division of the tribes into families. 
As in the case of the other tribes, always ^ the sons of such and 
such a tribe according to their iamilies received their portion of 
land by lot, so also the sons of Levi received their cities according 
to their families. 

7. Finally, ' we meet with the rare word n^imtD, " half," only in the 
geographical portions ' (xxi. 25). This last argument is intended, 
seemingly, to add one more to the number of reasons, and thereby 
to increase their cogency. For nothing can possibly be proved from 
this word's occurring but once in wis form in the whole book, 
since its equivalent form ^vn, * half,' is found in the same chapter 
three times (ver. 5, 6, 27), and six times more in the other por- 
tions which Stahelin allows to be geographical (xiii. 25, 29, 31 
his; xiv. 2, 3) ; and the form n^VD6> of fuller sound, is chosen ia 
xxi. 25, doubtless only for this reason, that it forms the beginning 
of a period in this very periodic chapter. 

Thus a more caretiii consideration of the contents and spirit 
of our book causes all the differences in regard to things and 
to language to disappear, which a superficial criticism declares 
to be contradictions and manifest proofs of different original 
documents. The opponents have, indeed, sought to strengthen 
their hypothesis by proving that the Pentateuch exhibits the same 
differences. But though various sections of our book are closely 
connected, in both matter and style, with sections corresponding 
with them as to contents in the rentateuch, yet it by no means 
follows that both writings have a like origin and composition — 
that they were originally cfm work. For, in the first place, the 
hypothesis of different documents has quite as little ground in 
the Pentateuch as in Joshua ; then, secondly, it is a wholly un- 
tenable suppofflti(Hi that the so-called Elohistic parts of our book 
were, at first, united with the Ehhim source of the Pentateuch, 
The death of Moses, it is argued, forms no suitable ecmclusion, 
no resting point, where we can believe that the author could have 
broken off his narrative, For * Moses is not the proper hero of 
the history, but the people of Israel in their relation to Jehovah ; 
but the people are found at t^e death of Moses in such a porition 
(on the bearers of the Promised Land and prepared for taking it, 
but yet without baring entered it) that whoever had continued the 
history from the creation of the world down to tMs point could not 

havQ 



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236 An Introduction to the Book of Joshua. [Oct 

have been able to break off here/* The yalidity of this concluaion 
depends on this : — that not Moses but the people of Israel in their 
relation to Jehovah is the proper hero of the history. Which is quite 
right, but so broadly and so vaguely put that one might equally well 
infer from it that the work, which beginning with the creation relates 
the origin of the people of Israel and the choice of them to be 
the covenant-people of Jehovah, could not possibly close with the 
capture of the land of Canaan, but must have continued the 
history of this people down to the subversion of the Jewish state, 
since the taking of Canaan into possession was not the end, but 
rather the commencement of their historical development. Or 
shall we suppose that Jehovah's relation to his people ceased with 
their conquest of the land ? Was it Jehovah's purpose simply to 
give them Canaan for a possession and then to abandon them to 
their own ways ? Has the legblation at Sinai reference merely to 
the conquest of Canaan ? Was it not intended, at the same time, 
to regulate the whole historical development of Israel ? Were all 
the promises given to the natriarchs fulfilled on the entrance of 
their seed into the land of Canaan, so that an author, who wished 
to write the history of Israel in their relation to Jehovah, could 
have closed his work with the death of Joshua ? — The argument 
of our opponents &Ils with the false premises from which it is 
drawn. Phe death of Moses, it is true, does not form an epoch 
for the history of the Israelites, but it does for the history of the 
theocracy. Moses was not only the leader of the people, but 
also the founder of the theo<a*acy, the mediator of the old cove- 
nant, by which Israel received their distinctive oonstitution, which 
forms the Old Testament economy. At his death the work of 
legislation came to an end ; all succeeding leaders and guides of 
the people, all judges and kings, all priests and prophets, were 
subject to the law given by Moses and boimd by its requirements^ 
so that they could not with impunity transgress, and much less 
change or annul it. ^ There arose not a prophet since in Israel 
like unto Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face ' (Deut. xxxiv. 
10 ; comp. £x. xxxiiL 11, and Num. xii.<8). But the Pentateuch 
is not a purely historical work, but, according to its chief contents, it 
is ^ the statute-book of the Israels, as indeed it professes to be ' 
(Deut. XXX. 10). Is it not then in the highest degree fitting that the 
statute-book of the theocracy should close with the death of the 
legislator, which of itself put an end to the legislation ? When there- 
fore it is 5aid by von Lengerke {Kenaan^ I., p. Ixxx?,), ' the design 
of the writing, on which the Pentateuch is based, was to set forth 
how Israel came into possession of Canaan, and hence it could not 

• Bleek, loc» cit., p. 46 ; Stahelin, p. 93, seq, 

finish 



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1849.] An Introductim to the Book of Joshua. 237 

finish except with the narrative of that event ;' we must call on 
him first to prove the premises before he ventures to draw this 
conclusion. Yet Stahelin (p. 94) observes further, * that the his- 
torical books of the Old Testament contain elsewhere no important 
prophecy without relating also its fulfilment, which would not be 
the case in regard to the important promise of the possession of 
Palestine.' But the author for^t to prove his assertion. The 
very contrary mav be shown without difBculty. For does the 
Pentateuch with «foshua included relate the accomplishment (not 
to say of the Messianic predictions), but even of the promise made 
to Jacob (Gen. xxxv. 11), ^ kings shall come out of thy loins?' 
Lengerke finally maintains, *• that the original work already indi- 
cates beforehand the chief regulations of Joshua, and has an eye 
constantly to his times, so that it presupposes throughout a narra- 
tive also of the succeeding period.' So much is true, viz., that 
Moses, according to the Pentateuch, adopts many preparations for 
the taking of Canaan, and before his death names by divine com- 
mand Joshua as his successor ; but all this does not presuppose 
that Joshua's deeds are to be told by the same writer who relates 
those of Moses. This hypothesis, then, which assumes the original 
oneness of Joshua and the Pentateuch, ha£ no clear and convincing 
reason in its favour ; yet one might take it up as a plausible con- 
jecture if various facts did not decidedly contradict it and demand 
its rejection. 

We must not overlook, in this respect, the circumstance already 
intimated in § I., that the author of the book of Joshua clearly 
designed to give a positive independence to his history of the 
theocracy under Joshua, inasmuch as he has embodied in full in 
his work Moses' conquest and division of the country beyond 
Jordan among the two tribes and a half, and also Moses appoint- 
ment of the cities of refuge in that region j and has even aiaded a 
statement to complete the Pentateuch account of that conquest 
and division, as is shown in the Commentary on xiii. 21. The 
language of our book is still more a proof of its independence. 
From the relation of its subject matter to that of the Pentateuch 
the expression must naturally a^ee very often, in the main, with 
the books of Moses. Even the simplicity of the Hebrew language 
and prose necessitates that the same things, when th^ recur, 
should be mostly expressed again by the same terms. To which 
must be added, that our book relates the carrying out of many 
of Moses' directions, so that it is again quite natural that the 
expression should remain the same, that the execution should be 
mentioned in the same words in which the direction had been 
given. But yet, notwithstanding all these causes of similarity and 
sameness in the language of both works, the book of Joshua con- 
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238 An Introduction to the Booh of JosJaia, [Oct 

tains still some very charaeteristic peculiarities of speech to dis- 
tinguish it from the Pentateuch. One of these appears in the 
differ^Dce constantly ohsenrod in both works in writmg the name 
Jericho^ which is always Vny. Jerecho in the Pentateuch (oomp. 
Num. xxii. I ; xxvi. 3, 63 ; xixL 12 ; xxxiii. 48, 50 ; xxxiv. 15 ; 
xxxvi. 13 ; Deut xxxii. 49 ; xxxiv. 1, 3) and always ixv'y', Jericho 
in Joshua (comp. ch. ii. 1-3 ; iii. 16 ; iv. 13, 19 ; v. 10, 13 ; 
vi. 1, 2, 25, 26 ; vii. 2 ; viii. 2 ; ix. 3 *, x. 1 ; xii. 9 ; xiii. 
32 ; xvi. 1, eer, 7 ; xviii. 12, 21 ; xx. 8 ; xxiv. 11) ; ^ and 
this difference is so striking that Hengstenberg ^^ has already 
urged it in proof of the di&rent authorship of the two books. 
Further, we do not find in the Pentateuch the forms yob, 
• fame * (Jos. vi. 27 ; ix. 9, and only besides in Jer. vi. 24 ; Est. 
ix. 4), and K«g, * jealous* (Jos. xxiv. 19, and only again in Nah. 
i. 2), but only )^ (Gen. xxix. 13 ; Ex. xxiii, 1 ; Num. xiv. 15 ; 
Deut ii. 25) and «|g (Ex. xx- 5 ; xxxiv. 14 ; Deut. iv. 24 ; v. 9 ; 
vL 15) ; nor do we find the infinitive form vh[ (Jos. xxii. 25), but 
only my, (Deut. iv* 10 ; v. 26 ; vi. 24, et scBpe). The Pentateuch 
also knows not the expression h^nn nia), which oe<nirs so often in 
the later writings, to denote migkty warriors (Jos. i. 14 ; vi. 2 ; 
viii. 3), but uses instead of it H)t} *H> * sons of power ' (Deut. iii. 
18). Likewise the judicial phrase \8whn to*!?, ' his blood on his 
head,' formed in accordance with the law (Jos. ii. 19, comp. Ezek. 
xxxiii. 4), does not occur in the Pentateuch, and it is to be re- 
garded as a modification of the terms of the law which has only 
b te^, *his blood upon him' (Lev. xx. 9, 11, 12, 13, 16). This 
gradual change in the language appears also in the fact that the 
archaisms peculiar to the Fentateuch, such as «^n for «^^, ^«n 
for n^^n, &c., are no more to be found in our book.* 

With such proo& of a peculiar usage of language, deviating 

*» Konig (p. 42) represents the name Jericho as written defectively ^ro^ in seyeral 
places of onr book (ch. ii. 1-3 ; iv. 13» et al.). Where is the ground for Uiis state- 
ment ? In ihe Bibles edited by J. H. Michaelis and Hahn I have never firaad it 
-written so. Nor does Gesenius give it so in his Thesaurus^ iii. 1293. 

* Geschichte BileamSt p. 256. 

<^ I lay less stress on an mstance mentioned by Havernick {EinUitung^ i* If p* 198), 
viz., the curtailing of the proverbial saying in £xod. xi. 7, ' A dog shall not move 
his tongne against Israel,' which occurs in Josh. z. 21, withoat ^'^ dog. In such 
sayings abbreviations very easily take place in the mouth of the people, so that even 
one and the same writer mi^t use both the fuU and the shortened form. Yet what 
Stahetin {TheoL Stndien u. Kritiken, 1838, p. 272) urges as an objection, « else must 
Gen. zli. 49, be later than Josh. zi. 4, since the former passage gives the same phrase 
in a shorter form/ is not at all to the purpose. He is, however, right in rejecting 
(p. 271) the meaning ;?[oi« which Havernick Qoc. ciL) assigns to the word T)\l^ 
in Josh. X 40. VThat is further cited by De VTette {EinUitung, § 170), as deviatiiig 
from the peonliari^ pf the Jehovist and the Deuteronomist* is devoid of all firee. 

from 



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1849.] An Introduction to the Book of Joshua. 239 

from the Pentateuch^ our book cannot be said to have the same 
author as either Deuteronomy or the entire Pentateuch. No 
more can the geographical sections of our book, or its pretended 
Elohistic portions, be shown to hare formed part of the supposed 
original source of the Pentateuch. For not only have all the 
grounds of this hypothesis been proved null and void, but it is 
also decidedly opposed by the inconceivableness of such an original 
document as the opponents assume. They wish to connect imme- 
diately with the close of Numbers the account of Moses' death in 
Deut. xxxii, 48-52 ; xxxiv. 1-9 ; and with this again the notice 
of the encampment at Gil^l, Jos. v. 10-12, and then the nar* 
rative in Jos. xiii. 15 seq. But what a connection ? Moses died 
on Mount Nebo in the land of the Moabites ; the people of Israel 
lay encamped at his death in the plains of Moab. With a mi^ty 
leap, a true saldo mortale^ the ancient Elohist must have magically 
conveyed the 600,000 men, with the women, children, and cattle, 
over the Jordan into the camp at Gilgal, where the people keep the 
Passover, and begin to eat of the natural productions of the earth, 
and then immediately undertake the division of the land, without 
having first conquered it I Is it conceivable that a rational and 
methodical narrator should have said nothing of the passage over 
the Jordan and of the taking of Canaan, that he should have 
related the division of the land without first mentioning its subju- 
gation I Stabelin indeed thinks (p. 89) ^ this brevity in historical 
things is not strange, according to analogy elsewhere ; the Elohim 
source is, even in the Pentateuch, often very brief in what is his- 
torical, saying nothing, for instance, about the passace through 
the Red Sea, and about the various stations in me wilderness, of 
which a bare list is given in Num. xxixiii.' But these analogies 
prove nothing, first because they are partly only idle suppositions, 
since the existence of such an Elohim source to the Pentateuch is 
by no means proved or probable ; and then because, in the book 
or Joshua, it is not a question of brevity, but of the absence in 
the supposed original writing of all historical notices about the 
Israelites' invasion and conquest of Canaan. The opponents' 
view remains, therefore, not only a strange, but inconceivable and 
consequently untenable supposition. Even Ewald has perceived 
this, and has in consequence not only attributed the 1^ of the 
thirty-one vanquished kings of Canaan (ch. xii. 9-24J to the ancient 
Elomm document, or the book of the origins, but also oonjectured 
that this ancient writing, in a very modified form, is the ground- 
work of the history of the conquest of Canaan in ch. vi.-^xi.* This, 
however, does not make much for the other critics. For as no 
trace of the style or mod^ of thinking of the Elohist is, according 

• Ge$chidUe der Israetiten^ II., p. 327. 

to 



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240 An Introduction to the Book of Joshtia. [Oct. 

to their view, to be found in all the first half of our book, except 
in ch. V. 10-12, so they are reduced to the alternative either to 
deprive the Elohist of any share in ch. i.-xii., except ch. v. 10-12^ 
or, as this would lead to absurdities, to abandon their critical pro- 
cedure as unsuccessful and unfounded. 

As then the view of these critics respecting the composition of 
the book of Joshua rests on no stable foundation, and leads to 
absurd results, it follows that its unity and independence stand 
fast, since all its parts hang most closely together ; every single 
section not only holds its right place, but also points to the sequel, 
as well as presupposes what goes before. In the divine summons 
to Joshua m ch. i. 1-9, to fiiml his calling, we find the contents of 
the whole book indicated, not only the conquest of Canaan as 
given in the first half, together with all that Joshua did, at Gilgal 
and on £bal and Gerizim, for ensuring success by the sanctifymg 
of the people and the firmer grounding of them in God's law as 
delivered by Moses, but also the partition of the land as related 
in the second half, with the two assemblies of the people ordered 
by Joshua before his death for renewing the covenant with the 
Lord. Not less clear through the whole book are the chrono- 
lo^cal arrangement and coherent combination of the individual 
facts. Joshua enters on his calling with regulations which pre- 
pared for the entrance into the land of Canaan (i. 10-16 ; 
li. 1-22). Then follow the removal from the camp at Shittim 
nii. 1, which refers back to i. 11) and the passage over the Jordan 
(iii. and iv.). Then the narrative of what happened at Gilgal 
(iv. 19) in the camp on this side of the Jordan (v. 1-vi. 5), which 
is connected with the preceding by the i<^nri nga, ' at that time,* in 
ch. V. 2., and at the same time contains the immediate preparation 
for the taking of Jericho. The capture and destruction of tnis city, 
which then followed, are attended by Achan's trespass, with which 
again the taking of Ai is inseparably connected (vii. 1-viii. 29). 
ifiien succeeds, as the ^^J, ' then,' in viii. 30 shows, the march to 
Ebal and Gerizim (viii. 30-35). With this is naturally associated 
the mention of what the Canaanites, moved by the overthrow of 
Jericho and Ai, attempted against the IsraeUtes (ix. 3 ; x. 1 ; 
xi. 1), which attempts proved disastrous to the former, and made 
the latter by two successive campaigns masters of the land in the 
south and north (ix.-xi.) ; so that our author had nothing more to 
do than to append in ch. xii. a list of the vanquished Canaanitish 
kings, and then, in ch. xiii., to pass on to the account of the divi- 
sion of the land, at which he had pointed already in the close of 
ch. xi. But this is quite appropriately introduced in ch. xiii., by 
the divine command for the parcelling out of Canaan (where the 
statement of the still unconquered districts is inserted), and by 

a review 



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1849.] An Introduction to the Book of Joshua, 



241 



a review of tbe previous division by Moses of the land beyond 
Jordan among the two tribes and a half; and then the fulfilment 
of the command is related according to its historical progress 
(xiv. 1-xxi. 45), and a finish is given to this part by a closing 
sentence (xxi. 43-45), that points Imck to the beginning (xiv, 1-5). 
The book itself, however, could not close here, for we still need 
an account of the sending away and return of the fighting men 
belonging to the tribes beyond Jordan, who had, accordmg to 
Moses' command and Joshua's consequent summons (i. 12-18), 
marched over the river with their brethren as auxiliaries (iv. 12, 
13) ; which account follows in ch. xxii., as also the notice of 
Joshua's surrender of ofiSce and his death in ch. xxiii. and xxiv. 
Though the contents of these three last chapters are peculiar and 
varying from what is related immediately before, yet tlieir original 
connection with ch. xiv.-xxi. and the whole book cannot be mis- 
taken, if we only keep in view how, on the one hand, ch. xxiii. 1, 
in thought and expression, points back to ch. xxii. 3, 4, and these 
verses again to ch. xxi. 43-45 ; and how, on the other, the two 
nieeches of Joshua in ch. xxiii. and xxiv. as plainly presuppose 
the division of the land as its conquest.' 



CHRONOLOGY OF THE KINGDOMS OF ISRAEL 
AND JUDAH. 

By the Rev. Daniel Kerb, M.A. 

The history of the two kingdoms of Judah and Israel, from the 
time of their unhappy schism under Rehoboam to the destruction 
of Jerusalem and the captivity of Judah by Nebuchadnezzar, is 
confessedly one of the most intricate periods of ancient chronology. 
Dr. Hales has styled it * the Gordian knot ;' and if we consider the 
endless number of theories that have been proposed, the diversity 
of results that have been given, and the learning and ingenuity it 
has hitherto seemed to bafle, we might almost fear that it must be 
hopeless to imravel it. The following list presents the calculations 
of this period by some of the most eminent chronologists : — 

YeMi. Yef 



Kennedy 
Marsham 
Gantz . 
Petayius • 
Usher • 
Plajfeir . 



358 
863 
373 
386 
387 
388 



Oxford Tables 
Scaliger . . 
Volney . . 
Hales . . 
Eusebius 
Titles to Josephos 



389 
391 
393 
404 
405 
411 



' The sequel of this Introduction, comprising Date of the Book of Joshua, Credi- 
bility of the Book of Joshua, and Exegeticu Helps, will be given in the next 
Number of the Journal. 

These 



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242 tJhronohffy of th& Kingdcmis [Oct. 

Hiese present a difference npon the whole of more than 50 
years, while even between Hales and Usher, whose rival systems 
at present divide public opinion, the difference is 17 years. And 
yet there is no portion of history so loaded as this is with 
such a mass of minute chronological data, and that, too, of 
the most valuable description ; for the two histories running 
parallel with each other, mutually express their respective dates 
m terms of one another, and show that originally they were 
exactly adjusted together. The difficulty of now recoffnising this 
harmony must arise from one of two causes, if not trom both r 
that either great corruptions have entered through time into the 
figures of ttos period, a fate to which figures have been peculiarly 
liable in past ages, as all historical documents testify ; or that 
the real principles on which the histories have been compiled haver 
not yet been discovered. It is not, however, our design, in the 
present attempt, to show how previous conclusions have been 
reached, or what are their peculiar faults or excellencies ; but to 
pursue an independent and in some respects a novel path suggested 
to ua by the study of the history itself and more accordant, we think, 
with the oriental idea of time. 

The following principles have mainly guided us in arriving at 
the results to which we have come, and we shall therefore state 
them before proceeding to an analysis of the history. 

1. The well-known fact that the historians of the Bible com- 
puted the years in current and not in complete time : that is, that 
the first and last years of a reign were considered as full though 
thev contained each but a few months of the year. On this prin- 
ciple we find that generally the last year of the &ther is the first 
of the son, and that it becomes 2 years in the history, though 
actually one only in the chronology. 

2. The second principle is, that, except where it is so stated in 
the history, no son should reign in conjunction with his father, 
as has been too often supposed, when two dates jarred a little 
with each other, in order to evade the difficulty. In two cases, 
and only two, the sacred historian has fidthfully recorded such a 
fact> and left va to infer that in all such instances it was essential to 
his design that these remarkable events should be carefully noted. 
The correction of the chronology ensuing from ascertaining the 
duration of one of these periods of co-regency forms one of the 
peculiar features of our present scheme. 

3. A third canon by which we have been guided is, that the 
notion of an interregnum, in its occidental sense at least, was 
unknown to the compilers of the books of the Ein^ and Chro- 
nicles. This resource has hitherto been a favourite one with 
chronologists, when coming in contact with an evidently corrupted 

date. 



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1849.] of Israel and Judah. 243 

date, even where all the circumstances of the history are opposed 
to such an idea. In only one instance during the whole currency 
of these kingdoms is such a state of anarchy recorded, as might 
be called an interregnum, when several competitors successively 
eoBtended with each other for the throne of Israel, and the king- 
dom was for five years rent into violent factions. Yet so fer was 
the historian from treating this as an interregnum, that he throws 
the whole of that time afterwards into the reign of the successful 
aspirant. In regard to all the other so called interregnums, it 
will be found that a closer examination of the cases, with the 
aid of the instance alluded to, will account for them in a much 
more satisfactory way. 

3. Lastly, another rule that has aided us not a little in our 
investigations is, that, wherever we observe a difficulty on the one 
side of the analysis balanced by a precisely similar difficulty on 
the other, we conclude that the one is the production of the other, 
and that such a correction is required as will rectify both. For 
example — if a king in one of the kingdoms requires, according 
to the dates ^ven, to reign a certain number of years along with 
his father ; and this is balanced by the next king on the other 
side requiring to reign the very same number of years with his, 
while yet the narrative mentions no such thins in regard to either : 
then it may be safely suspected that an error Ties in the date of the 
former, and that by lowering it they, should both be brought down 
to the year of their fathers' decease. Or, the opposite may occur, 
when the accession of a scm is dated later than his &ther's death, 
and an unexplained interval is thus left between them, which is 
checked by a similar interval occmring on the other side before 
the accession of the king next in order. Or, in fine, if a son who 
should reign,, according to the narrative, with his father, is required 
by the dates to reign only after him ; but it is seen that there is 
a gap unnecessarily existing on the other side ; then it may be at 
once concluded that this gap has been occasioned by the improper 
lowering of that son's accession, and is to be filled up by the shifb^ 
ing of it back the whole space of time that the interval indicates. 
Cases of all these kinds occur in the period under review. 

ITiese jMinciples have conducted us to conclusions considerably 
different from those at present received, and have, we believe, 
enabled us to adjust the chronology of this important history, so 
as to approach much nearer the truth than it has hitherto been 
brought. The following table, as much abridged as possible, 
contains a scheme of the whole period included in our investigation, 
and is so constructed as to enable the reader to verify every date 
given, and judge for himself of every correction introduced. 

Table 



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244 



Chronology of the Kingdoms 



[Oct. 



TABLE OF THE KINGDOMS OF JUDAH AND ISRAEL. 



JUDAH. 

Behoboam (1 Kings xiv. 21). 
He was 21 ^ears old when he be- 
gan to reign, and reigned 17 
years in Jenisalem. 



Abuah (1 Kings xt. 1) 
to reign in the ] 8th year of Jero- 
boam, and reigned 3 years in 
Jemsalem. 

Asa (1 Kings xv. 9) began to 
reign in the 20th year of Jero- 
bofun, and reigned 41 years in 
Jemsalem. 



JSHOSHAPHAT (1 Kings xxii. 
41) began to reign in the 4th of 
Ahab, and reigned 25 years in 
Jemnlem. 



Jehobam (2 Kings viii. 16) 
began to reign in the 5th of 
Joram — Jehosnaphat being then 
king— and reigned 8 years. 



1 


1 


3 


3 


5 


5 


9 


9 


13 


13 


17 


17 


1 


18 


2 


19 


0. 3 


20 


1 


21 


2 


22. 1 


3 


1. 2 


6 


4 


10 


8 


14 


12 


18 


16 


22 


20 


26. . 


24 .1 


27 


1. 2 


28 


2 


29 


3 


31. 


6 


33 


7 


36 


10 


38 


12. .1 


41. 1 


4 


5 


8 


9 


12 


13 


16 


17 


1 20 


18 


2. 1 


20 


3 


1 22 


5 


2 23 


6 


3 24 


7 


4 25 


8 


6 


10 



ISRAEL. 



Jeroboam (1 Kings xIt. 20) 
was made king, and reigned over 
Israel 22 years. 



Nadab (1 Kings xr. 25) suc- 
ceeded in the 2nd year of Asa, 
reigned 2 years, and was slain by 
Baasha in the 3rd of Asa. 

Baasha (1 Kings xv. 28) be- 
gan to reign in the 3rd year of 
Asa, and reigned 24 years over 
all Israel. 



Elah (1 Kings xvi. 8) sac- 
ceeded in the 26th of Asa, and 
reigned 2 years: was slain by 
Zimri. 

ZiHBi (1 Kings xvi. 1 5) reigned 
one week, in the 27th of Asa : 
slain by Omri. Tibni then rose 
against Omri. 

Omri (1 Kings xvi. 23) hav- 
ing; dented Tibni, he began to 
reign in the 3l6t of Asa, and 
reigned 12 years. 

Ahab (1 Kings xvi. 29) suc- 
ceeded in the 38th year of Asa, 
and reigned 22 (20) years in Sar 
maria. 

Ahaeiah (1 Kings xxiL 51) 
succeeded in the 17th of Jeho- 
shaphat, and reigned 2 vears: 
died by a fall from a window. 

JoBAM (2 KinjBis iii. 1), the 
brother of Ahaziah, succeeded 
him in the 18th of Jehoshaphat, 
and reigned 12 years: 



Jddah. 



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1849.] 



of Israel and Judah, 



245 



JUDAH. 

Ahaziah (2 Kings yiii. 25) 
began to reign in the 12th of 
Joram, and reigned 1 year. He 
was slain by Jehu at Jezreel. 

Athaltah (2 Kings xi. 1) 
arose and slew all the seed royal, 
' and reigned 7 years. She was 
slain by Jehoiada. 

JoASH (2 Kings zii. 1) began 
to reign in the 7th of Jehu, and 
reigned 40 years. 



Amaziah (2 Kings xiy. 1) 
began to reign in the 2nd of Je- 
hoash, and reigned 29 years. 



UzziAH (2 Kings xy. I) began 
to reign in the 27th (14th) of Je- 
roboam, and reigned 52 years. 



JoTHAM (2 Kinffs XT. 32) be- 
gan to reign over Judah, in the 

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. 



8. 1 


12 


1 


1 


3 


3 


5 


5 


7 1 


7 


6 


11 


9 


15 


13 


19 


17 


23 


22 


28. 


23 


1 


27 


5 


30 


8 


34 


12 


37 


15 


39 


1.17 


1.40 


2 


5 


6 


8 


9 


11 


12 


15 


16 


16 


1 


19 


4 


21 


6 


24 


9 


27 


12 


29. 1 


14 


5 


18 


8 


21 


11 


24 


14 


27 


17 


30 


21 


34 


25 


38 


28 


\, 41 


29 


1 


31 


3 


33 


5 


36 


8 


39 


11 


40 


1 


41 


2 


42 


1 


1.43 


2 


2.44 


3 



ISRAEL. 

slain by Jehu, who was pro- 
claimed king in the camp at Ra- 
moth Gilead. He slew also 
Ahaziah at same time. 

Jehu (2 Kings x. 36) having 
slain the kings of both kingdoms 
in one day, ascended the Sirone 
of Israel, and reigned 28 years. 



Jehoahaz (2 Kings xiii. 1) 
succeeded in the 23iS year of 
Joash, and reigned 17 years. 



Jehoash (2 Kings xiii. 10) 
succeeded in the 37th (39th) of 
Joash, and reigned 16 years. 



Jeroboam (2 Kings xiv. 23) 
succeeded in the 15m of Ama- 
ziah, and reigned 41 years. 



Zbchabiah (2 Kings xv. 8) 
succeeded in the 38th (28th) year 
of Uzziah, and reigned 6 months : 
slain by Shallum, who reigned 1 
month in the 39th (29th) of Uz- 
ziah. 

Menahem (2 Kings xv. 17) 
having slain Shallum, began to 
reign in the 39th (29th) of Uz- 
ziah, and reigned over Israel 10 
years. 



Pekahiah (2 Kings xv. 23) 
succeeded in the 50th (40th) year 
of Uzziah, and reigned 2 years; 
he was slain by Pekah. 

Pekah (2 Kinjp xv. 27) hav- 
ing slain Pekahiah, began to 
reign in the 52nd (42nd) year of 

JuDAH. 



89 

90 

96 

108 

118 
125 



134 
135 



145 
150 
155 

163 
176 



187 
190 



191 



195 



202 



204 
205 



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246 



Chronology of the Kinffdoms 



[Oct. 



JUDAH. 

2ud year of Pekah, and reigned 
16 years. 



Ahaz (2 Kings xvi. 1) began 
to reign in the 17th year of Pe- 
kah, and reigned 16 years. 

Hezekiah (2 Kings xviii. 1) 
began to reign in the 3rd (4th) of 
Hoshea, and reigned 29 years. 



Sennacherib's invasion. 
Hezekiah*s sickness. 



Manasseh (2 Kings xxi. 1) 
reigned 55 years. 



Ahon (2 Kings xxi. 19) having 
reigned only 2 years, his ser- 
vants slew him in his own house. 

JosiAH (2 Kings xxii. 1) 
reigned 31 years, and was slain 
in battle by Pharaoh Necho, king 
of Egypt 

Jeremiah prophesies 
(Jer. XXV. 3.) 



Jeuoahaz (2 Kings xxiii. 
31) reigned 3 months: de- 
posed by Pharaoh Necho, and 
carried to Egypt, 

J EHOIAKIM (2 Kings xxiii. 



20 



3.45 


4 


4.46 


5 


5.47 


6 


6.48 


7 


7.49 


8 


8.50 


9 


9.51 


10 


10.52 


11 


13 


14 


16. 1 


17 


4 


20 


8 


24 


12 


28. 


13 


1 


1. 16 


4 


4. 


7 


6. 


9 


10 




14 




15 




19 




23 




26 




29. 




1 




4 




8 




12 




16 




20 




24 




28 




32 




36 




40 




44 




48 




52 




1.55 




2. 1 




5 




9 




13 




17 




21 




24 




28 




i.31 




1 


, 



ISRAEL. 

Usziah, and reigned 20 (28) 
years. He was slain by Hoshea, 
who reigned in his stead. 



HosHEA (2 Kings xvii. 1) 
having slain Pekah, bejzan to 
reign in the 12th year of Ahaz, 
and reigned 9 years. 

In the 4th of Hezekiah, which 
was the 7th of Hoshea, Salma- 
nezer kinf( of Assyria came np 
against Samaria, and besieged it : 
and at the end of 3 years they 
took it ; even in the 6th year of 
Hezekiah, that is the 9th year of 
Hoshea (2 Kings xviii. 9), Sa- 
maria was taken. 



210 

213 

220 

231 
235 

240 
253 



263 
264 



276 
287 
299 
311 
318 
319 

331 
339 

349 



350 
JUDAH.. 



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1849,] 



of Israel and Judah, 



247 



JUDAH. 

36),ra]8ediipbyP]iaraoh,aiid _ 
reigned 1 1 yeurs : his 4th year 
isthelstofthectptivitjofyo 26 
years. 28 

Jehoiachin(2 Kingszxiv. 30 
8) reigned 3 monthg, and was 
deposed by Nebachadnezzar, 
in fkvour of bis uncle Zede- 
kiah. 

Zedektah (2 Kings xxiv. 31 
18), raised up by Nebuchad- ^ 
nezzar: he reigned 11 years. 

37 

In the 9th year of the reign 39 
of Zedekiab, in the 10th 41 
moDthf in the 10th day of the 
month, Nebuchadnezzar king 
of Babylon came agunst Je- 
rusalem, and the city was be- 
sieffed unto the 1 1th year of 
Zedekiah. And on the 9th 
day of the fourth month the 
city was broken up. And in 
the 5th month, on the 7th 
(1 0th) day of the month, 
which was the 19th year of 
the king of Babylon, the city 
was burnt, and the walls 
broken down. 



7 
9 
11. * 



ISRAEL. 

Nebuchadnezzar's rei^, in 
which year the great captivity of 
70 years began. (Jer. xxv. 11.) 

The 2nd deportation took place 
in this year, and from it Ezekiel 
dated his prophecies " the year 
of our captivity." It was the 8th 
year of Nebuchadnezzar. 



360 



361 



371 



Notes explanatory of the Table. 

Jeroboam. As the schism of the two kingdoms occurred im- 
mediately after the death of Solomon, in the very beginning of 
Rehoboam's reign, we have made the reigns contemporaneous, 
and styled this era a.r. or the year of revolt. 

Asa. It is stated that Asa began to reign in the 20th year of 
Jeroboam, but all the dates of the kings of Israel that refer to 
his reign require- that his first year should rather correspond to 
Jeroboam*s 21st. It might be that Abijah, his father, died so 
near the close of the preceding year that the small portion of it 
during which Asa ruled after him, was considered so short as to 
be unworthyof notice, especially as his reign extended to so great 
a length. The same thing occurs in several other instances, for, 
we presume, the same reason. 

N ADAB. This prince has a reign of 2 years assigned to him, 
and yet he only began to reign in the one and was cut off in the 
other. This fact curiously but clearly illustrates that singular 
feature of Hebrew chronology which is so strikingly exemplified 
in the 3 days of our Lord's being in the grave, viz., that a part 

8 2 of 



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248 Chrmology of the Kingdoms [Oct. 

of time IS taken for the whole— in other words, that current time 
is spoken of as complete. In the present instance, Nadab reigned 
only a part of 2 years, having come to the throne in the 2nd of 
Asa and died in the 3rd : it might not amount to an entire year 
altogether, and yet it is accounted 2 years in the narrative. 
This sum, however, Dr. Hales and others calculate as 2 years 
in their account, without considering the relative dates connected 
with it, which, it may be said, cause this reign to vanish altogether 
from the chronology ; for as the 1st year of Nadab is identical 
with the last of Jeroboam, and the 2nd with the 1st of Baasha, 
they both in fact are represented in them. ITie same remarks 
apply to the reigns of Elah the son of Baasha, and of Ahaziah 
the son of Ahab, each of which have 2 years, reckoned on the same 
principle, but actually adding nothing to the chronology. Many 
other years will thus disappear, as the table shows, so as to 
reduce the sum on the whole 84 years on the side of Israel and 
9i on the side of Judah. 

Omri. We are, in the reign of Omri, presented with another 
of those peculiarities that mark this period of history ; and it has 
been, as already said, of no small service to us in disposing of the 
question of interregnums. We must therefore be somewhat par- 
ticular in our account of it. Elah was slain by Zimri in the 27th 
year of Asa. When the intelligence reached the camp at Gib- 
bethon where Omri was besieging the Philistines, it . seems to 
have been received with a burst of indignation, for Omri was 
instantly proclaimed king, and the whole army, raising the siege, 
came up with all Israel and encamped asainst Tirzah, where 
Zimri, having slain the whole race of Baa^a, was enjoying his 
first days of royal life in the palace of the kinas. After a few 
days' siege the city yielded, and Zimri, rather ttian fall into the 
hands of his enraged and victorious assailant, set fire to the palace 
and perished in its ruins. Now mark here the faithfulness of the 
historian to the oriental idea to which we are about to direct 
attention. It is said, *in the 27th year of Asa did Zimri reign 
7 days' (1 Kings xvi. 15). Omri, however, was not yet allowed 
to take possession of the throne. A new candidate immediately 
appeared in Tibni, the son of Ginath, who was backed in his suit 
by a very powerful party in the nation : for it is said, ' Then were 
the people of Israel divided into two parts ; half of the people 
followed Tibni the son of Ginath to make him king, and half fol- 
lowed Omri' (1 Kin^ xvi. 21). For 5 years these two great 
factions carried on an intestine war that must have plunged the 
kingdom into great distraction. At length, in the Slst year of 
Asa, the party of Tibni was subdued, the insurgent chief himself 
slain, and Omri became sole and undisputed king. The historian 

now 



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1849.] of Israel and Judah. 249 

now adds, * In the 31st year of Asa king of Judah began Omri 
to reign over Israel 12 years: 6 years reigned he in Tirzah* 
(1 Kings xvi. 23). But observe the fact ; he died in the 38th 
year of Asa, for then his son Ahab succeeded him : and con- 
sequently he reigned only 7 years, if his reign began where it is 
dated. If, however, to these we add the 5 years of anarchy that 
preceded, we obtain exactly the 12 years assigned to him, and 
find that the first 6 years were indeed spent in Tirzah, and the 
remaining 6 in Samaria, which he founded the year after he came 
to absolute power. 

Now what is most deserving of attention in this account is, not 
the way in which the 12 years may be computed, but the remark- 
able principle on which these 5 years of anarchy are so disposed 
of as not to appear in that form in the chronology. The historian, 
it is clear, has no idea that they should or could be computed by 
themselves as an interregnum or debateable period^ when no man 
was kii]^, even though he had expressly stated that Omri began 
to reigQ when it was past, but considered it as necessarily now 
included in Omri's reign, since he had contended for this from 
the first, when he had been saluted king by his party. Had 
Tibni succeeded instead of Omri, the same thing might have been 
said of him ; or rather, Omri, as the earlier usurper of the title, 
would have been described as king, like Zimri, until he was 
subdued, and l^bni should have reigned after him and in his 
stead. Thus the whole interval should equally have been appro- 
priated and the supposition of an interregnum been impossible. 
The rule then which here guided the historian — ^and it is one that 
regulates evidently all such vacancies — is, that the earliest can- 
didate for the crown, if he eventually succeeds, includes the whole 
period of previous strife in his historical reign ; and if he fails — as 
in the case of Zimri, and afterwards of Shallum — he is said to 
have reigned until he fell. An interregnum therefore, under 
such a mode of reckoning, becomes an impossibility. 

Many eastern facts illustrative of this might easily be cited, in 
regard to which our western minds would shrink from giving the 
royal title, as in the case of Smerdis the magian, whom we are 
ready to style an impostor, but whom the Persian historian and 
the book of Ezra would nevertheless denominate a king. In some 
cases they even carried the idea farther than this, and gave the 
title to upstart pretenders during the reien of the recognized 
monarch. Thus upon the tomb of Darius Hystaspes at BeSstun, 
lately decyphered for the first time by Major Rawlinson, there is 
among other matters a memoir given of all the impostors and in- 
surgents that arose during his reign, whom he had successively 
suUued. Of each of them he says, that ^ he became king,' that 

i8» 



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250 Ckronology of the Kingdoms [Oct. 

is, every one that took the title held it, orientally, until he was 
put down. The same ideas, therefore, directing the mind of the 
sacred historian in the cases under review, lead us to the con- 
clusion that no interregna! periods are admissible, as there never 
would be a time when there was not a claimant for the throne 
either dejure or de facto. 

Ahab. This king reigned, it is said, 22 years. Beginning in 
the 38th of Asa his 22nd year would have coindded with the 
19th of Jehoshaphat had he reigned so long; but for various 
reasons we are not inclined to believe that he exceeded 20 years. 
Ahaziah his son became king in the 17th year of Jehoshaphat 
and 20th of Ahab, and was succeeded by his brother Joram in 
the 18th, the year following. Now this would make the last two 
years of Ahab's life a co-regency, first with one son and after- 
wards with another, of which there is no hint in the narrative, 
nor any apparent necessity in the case. Ahab was not a man of 
such temper as to brook an equal with him on the throne, nor was 
he at the close of life in such a state of imbecility or disease as 
to require it. On the contrary, he was still vigorous, active and 
ambitious, when he fell in battle at Ramoth Gilead, fighting 
against the Syrians. From these facts we might have safely con- 
cluded that ne reigned to the last alone ; but the account of 
Ahaziah's accession sets the matter completely to rest, * And the 
king died, and was brought to Samaria and buried there. . • So 
Ahab slept with his fathers, and Ahaziah his son reigned in his 
stead ' (1 Kings xxii. 40). It is therefore clear that, as he died 
before the accession of Ahaziah, there must be an error of 2 years 
in his reign, which has crept in through some inadvertency. But, 
indeed, it does not afiect the chronology whether he lived these 
2 years or not, as they would fall from the reckoning in the sup- 
posed partnership : still they are undoubtedly an error. 

Joram, the son of Ahab. Two different dates are given of his 
accession to the throne. That which occiu*s in the regular course 
of the history, and which is in harmony with all the relative dates 
of his reign is, that ' he began to reign in the 18th year of 
Jehoshaphat, and reigned 12 years ' (2 Kings iii. 1). fiut the 
other asserts, ^ so Ahaziah died, and Joram reigned in his stead, 
in the 2nd year of Jehoram the son of Jehoslmphat ' (2 Kings i, 17). 
The first of these is evidently the true account ; the second bears 
every mark of being a note of some ancient ignorant critic, that 
in course of time has found its way into the text. There are two 
reasons especially that determine us to this opinion. It is first 
of all introduced entirely out of the author's chronological order 
which he invariably observes in interweaving the history of the 
two kingdoms into one narrative, and which £e reader may easily 

perceive 



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1849.] of Israel and Judah, 251 

perceive by ruiming his eye down the table, and noting the order 
of the chapters of the book of Kings. Here, thererore, in the 
1st chapter, the historian could not introduce a date which, if 
true, which it is not, would fall in the order of time in the 8th, 
where we come for the first time to Jehoram's reign. Again, the 
clause is not only mistimed, it is also informal. The author of 
this history is exceedingly formal. In stating the order of events 
at the death of any king, he has a certain formula of expression to 
which he closely adheres, and in the only two instances in which 
there is a departure from it, it is remarkable that they are botfi 
inaccuracies, and are elsewhere contradicted. This is one of them. 
He always ends the reign of a king by a ^ so he died, and was 
buried,' &c., ^ and his son reigned in his stead.' But he never 
adds there when he reigned. It is not till he comes, in the proper 
course of the narrative, to that son's reign that he then introduces 
it with the date of his accession, &c. But in this clause it is 
otherwise, and therein we detect the unskilful hand of an inter- 
polator. All this is more evident still when we learn that 
^ Jehoram the son of Jehoshaphat began to reign in the 5th year 
of Joram the son of Ahab, and reigned 8 years (2 Kings viii. 16), 
and that his 8th year coincided with Joram's 12th, in which his son 
Ahaziah, who had just begun to reign, was slain along with Joram 
at Jezreel, when Jehu slew both kings in one day. 

Jehoram. We have here an instance of a joint-reign of a son 
with his father, and it is therefore worthy of attention. It is 
recwded that ' in the 5th year of Joram — Jehothaphat being then 
king ofJudah — Jehoram the son of Jehoshaphat began to reign ' 
(2 Kings viii. 16). The 5th year of Joram was the 22nd of 
Jehoshaphat, so that his son must have reigned with him during 
the last 4 current years of his life. The principle upon which 
our table is constructed finely exhibits this fact. The distinct 
and decided statement of this unusual occurrence, even though 
there is nothing in the transactions of the period necessarily re- 
quiring it, is a proof that the writer would have also noticed the 
same thing in other cases, had there been such ; but as he only 
once again, in the case of Jotham, informs the reader of such a 
circumstance, the conclusion is clear, that only these two instances 
occurred during the whole course of this history. 

Jehoasb. Jm the reign of this grandson of Jehu occurs one 
of those blemishes in the narrative to which our fourth canon 
applies, namely, a difficulty on the one side attended by a similar 
difficulty on the other. He is said to have commenced his reign 
in the 37th year of Joash king of Judah ; but as this was the 
15th year only of his father's reign, they must in that case have 
reigned 3 current years together, of which the history is utterly 

silent. 



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252 Chronology of the Kingdoms [Oct. 

silent. Our suspicion of an inaccuracy here is confirmed by 
turning to the opposite column, in which we find that if Jehoash 
reigns with his father, Amaziah must reign the very same space 
of time with his father also, for he begins to reign in the 2nd 

J ear of Jehoash, and consequently any error in the placing of 
ehoash will afiect his reign to the very same extent. 1 he simi- 
larity of the cases, therefore, and the mutual dependence they have 
on each other, natinrally suggest both the cause and the correction 
of the error ; for when the first year of Jehoash is lowered to the 
]|ist of his father, the first of Amaziah falls into the same position 
where the tenor of the history requires them both to be. In the 
Aldine version of the LXX., the accession of Jehoash is dated, as 
we have given it, in the 39th, and not the 37th, year of Joash. 

UzziAH. This reign presents one of the greatest difficulties to 
be met with in the history before us : but the principles alreadv 
laid down will successfully enable us to encounter it. Amaziah 
his father had been. slain in a popular insurrection in the 14th 

Jear of Jeroboam II., when this prince was called to the throne, 
t is said ' they made a conspiracy against him in Jerusalem, and 
he fled to Lacnish, but they sent after him to Lachish and slew 
him there. And they brought him on horses, and he was buried 
with his fathers at Jerusalem. And all the people of Judah took 
Uzziah (Azariah), who was 16 years old, and made him king 
instead of his father Amaziah ' (2 Kings xiv. 19). When, how- 
ever, the history comes to narrate in its proper place the life and 
reign of Uzziah, it commences with this statement : * Uzziah 
(Azariah) began to reign in the 27th year of Jeroboam, 16 years 
old was he when he began to reign,' &c. This date, therefore, 
leaves a vacancy of 12 years after the death of his father, which 
chronologists have too easily got over by calling it an interregnum. 
Many circumstances, as we snail proceed briefly to show, compel 
us to adopt a difierent opinion, namely, that the apparent dis- 
cordancy here arises firom a mere mis-statement of the date. 
1. There is no allusion whatever in the history to such an un- 
usual and undesirable state of public afiairs as this would imply, 
and surely when the writer has so often noticed the most ordinary 
events it is not to be supposed Uiat he would have allowed such 
an important fact to pass unnoticed as that for 12 years there 
was no king in Judah. 2. The youth of Uzziah at his father's 
death could form no constitutional objection to his immediate 
assumption of sovereignty : for though, on the supposition that the 
12 years are authentic, he had been only 4 years of age when 
Amaziah's death took place, there was nothing in this to prevent his 
accession, as Joash before him was but 7 when he was made king, 
and Josiah after him is only 8. Though then the heir to the 

crown 



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1849.] of Israel and Judah. 253 

crown was a minor, and therefore under guardians, still the law 
and practice was in every such case instantly to recognize and 
honour him as king. 3. The history itself, when we examine it, 
is opposed to the notion of an interregnum. It states that 
Uzziah became king directly after, and in consequence of his 
father's death; nay, that he was even borne up into power by 
the same excited tumult that had thrown his father down. In- 
deed his election would seem to have been an extremely popular 
movement, for immediately that his misguided father is slain, 
*all the people of Judah took Uzziah, who was 16 years old, 
and made him king instead of his father.' The whole strain of 
the narrative, the violent death of his father, and the excited 
state of the public mind, which, in such a case, seldom rests 
short in the midst of its work, show that the succession was instan- 
taneous, and that there was orieinally no gap in the history. 
4. Even supposing that Uzziah had become lang de jure only 
in the 27th year of Jeroboam, and that the succession till then 
had been disputed, or the powers of the crown held by some 
sort of regency, yet, at last, as m the case of Omri, tiie his- 
torian would have reckoned his reign of 52 years back, de morcj 
from the 14th of Jeroboam, including the period when his pre- 
tensions had been merely held in abeyance. 5. To admit an 
interval of 12 years between Uzziah and his father will have 
the suspicious effect of producing a similar interval of exactly 
12 years in the other kmgdom, between Jeroboam and his son 
Zechariah. It arises thus : — The rei^ of Zechariah is dated 
in a certain year of the reign of Uzziah ; if, therefore, you shift 
down the reign of Uzziah any distance out of its true place, it 
will of course carry down with it the attached reign of Zechariah 
exactly the same space also. Now whenever such a remarkable 
phenomenon in history occurs, the conclusion inevitably forced 
upon our attention is, ttiat both reigns have fallen by some accident, 
this very distance, out of their true position. This is just what 
has occurred here : for by lifting up the Ist year of tjzziah to 
its proper place at the death of his father, you at the same time 
cancel the gap on the other side, and restore the succession to 
its true condition in both cases. 6. But lastly, Josephus has 
fortunately preserved in his account the correct reading of the 
passage for which we contend, and states that ' Uzziah began to 
reign in the 14th year of Jeroboam* {Antiq. b. ix. ch. x. § 3). 
We are therefore required by these considerations to date the 
reign of Uzziah from tne last year of his father, and consequently 
to relieve the history of the supposed interregnum that cumbered 
both sides of the account. 

JoTHAM. The change introduced into the reign of Jotham, 

by 



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254 Chronology of the Kingdoms [Oct. 

by which he reigns 10 years in conjunction with his father, 
constitutes perhaps the principal feature of the present sketch of 
the chronology of the two ibngdoms. It was first proposed by 
M. Vohiey in his ' Recherches Nouvelles sur I'Histoire Ajacienne/ 
pubUshed in 1814 ; but has not yet, so far as we know, received the 
attention that is due to it. It admits of a much easier demonstra- 
tion however upon our principles than on his. In the note to 
Uzziah we have, for the sake of simplicity, spoken of the interval 
between Jeroboam and Zechariah as only 12 years, corre- 
sponding to, and produced by, the blank existing between Amaziah 
and Uzziah ; but this is only a part of the truth. We have now 
to explain further, that there is in all a vacuum of 22 years 
between Zechariah and his father, which is composed of two parts, 
12 years attributable to the error stated in tJ zziah's reign, and 
the remaining 10 to a misconception that has arisen out of 
Jotham's. With this last blank of 10 years we now proceed to 
deal. 

A careful perusal of the history at this point will show that all 
the reigns from Zechariah down to Pekah depend upon the date 
of Jotham's accession. That is said to have taken place in the 
2nd year of Pekah king of Israel (2 Kings xv. 32). Some indi- 
vidual therefore, to whose ignorant interference we owe the disor- 
der that has been created here, taking it for granted without 
inquiry, that Jotham's reign commenced at the death of Uzziah, 
found that the dates of Pekah, Pekahiah, Menahem and Zecha- 
riah did not correspond with this idea, as they were all set 10 
years higher than he thought they ought to be ; and therefore to 
correct, what seemed to him an evident anachronism, he took the 
liberty of lowering these altogether, so as to make the 2nd year 
of Pekah quadrate with the last of Uzziah. This seems to us the 
natural explanation of the present state of the record : for these 
reigns are all suited to the time of the supposed accession of 
Jotham ; but thrown thereby out of harmony with the historical 
conditions of the period. It was not the case that Jotham's reign 
began at the death of his father ; for it is expressly stated that ne 
was called, in very melancholy circumstances, to assume the reins 
of government a considerable time before that period arrived. 
For Uzziah's impious intrusion into the temple, and usurpation of 
the priestly office, ' the Lord smote the king, so that he was a leper 
unto the day of his death, and dwelt in a several house ; and 
Jotham the king's son was over the king's house, judging the 
people of the land ' (2 Kings xv. 5 and 2 Chron. xxvi. 16, &c.). 
Jotham therefore ruled, or reigned, in conjunction with his father 
from the time that this event took place till his death ; but this 
clearly stated fact has beeu wholly overlooked by the person who 

ventured 



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1849.] of Israel and Judah. 265 

ventured to alter the dates of this period. The question now to 
be considered is, how long did Jotham thus reign with his father ? 
and the solution of the d^culty, we are happy to say, is not far 
to seek. The vacuum of 10 years between Jeroboam and his son 
Zechariah most significantly supplies the answer. Accordingly 
when we shift up the reigns of Zechariah, Menahem, Pekahiah, 
and Pekah 10 years higher than they are at present dated, to 
where they must originally have stood, the 1st year of Jotham, 
attadied to the 2nd of Pekah, falls into the 43rd of his father, 
and shows us the correct duration of his co-regency. This cor- 
rection secures all that the history desiderates : it dismisses the 
anomalous interregnum, renders ihe succession of Zechariah as 
close and consecutive as it ought to be ; clears up an interesting 
fact in the history of Uzziah, at what period of his life he com- 
mitted the ijnpiety with which he was chargeable, and exhibits 
most accurately the fact of Jotham's participation with him in the 
government of Judah. 

It may be necessary to advert here to the only question that has 
not been touched, that an interregnum between Zechariah and his 
father is as much opposed to the tenor of the history as between 
Amaziah and Uzziah. This prince, the reader will find, succeeded 
his &ther immediately, and peacefully, at his death. Had there 
been 10 years of anarchy it could not fail to have been mentioned. 
The promise also made to his ancestor Jehu, that his seed to the 
fourth generation should sit upon the throne of Israel, while it 
secured to Zechariah the possession of the throne, would still more 
clearly secure the calculation to him at last of all the previous 
years of strife, as being the rightful heir. But he reigned only 
6 months ; Shallum, like a second Zimri, slew him and reigned a 
full month in Samaria, and Menahem like Omri, removed him 
and reigned 10 or 11 years. The cases are so similar, that 
the same arguments apply in this case that were supplied by the 
other. 

Pekah. A reign of only 20 years is assigned to Pekah, 
which terminated, therefore, in the 4th of Ahaz. A singular 
anachronism occurs in the account given of his death. ' And 
Hoshea the son of £lah made a conspiracy against Pekah, and 
smote him and slew him, and reigned in his stead, in the 20th 
year of Jotham the son of Uzziah ' (2 Kings xv. 30). But Jotham 
reigned only 16 years, and died in the 17th of Pekah, for at 
that time his son Ahaz succeeded him : so tliat it is evident Pekah 
could not be slain in the 20th year of Jotham. The critical 
reader will not fail, however,- to recognize in the words we have 
put in italics the same hand that appended an exactly similar in- 
accurate clause to 1 Kings i. 17, in the case of Joram, and 

which 



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256 Chronology of the Kingdoms [Oct. 

which we there exposed as an evident interpolation. It comes in 
here as much out of historical time, form, and truth as there, and 
needs no further remark. In the proper order and place of the 
narrative the writer afterward states that Hoshea began to reign 
in the 12th year of Ahaz and reigned 9 years. The relative 
dates of Hoshea's and Hezekiah's reign also require that he 
should begin to reisn about the time specified ; so that there is a 
gap of 8 years at this rate unaccounted for between the death of 
]rekah and the 1st year of Hoshea. It is not material to our chro- 
nology whether this be filled up or left blank ; but the case of 
Omri again is exactly in point to prove that either they must be 
included in Hoshea's reign, or that he did not assassinate Pekah 
till the 12th of Ahaz. As Hoshea could not however reign sooner 
than is stated, we are restricted to the latter conclusion. We 
find this corroborated, besides, by the celebrated Alexandrian 
MS. which gives 28 years to Pekah ; and according to Syncellus 
(p. 202) the copy of the Scriptures used by Basil had the same 
reading. Eusebius and some others, more awkwardly, fill up the 
space by giving Pekahiah 10 years instead of 2. The matter 
seems to be satisfactorily set to rest by Josephus, who says, after 
recording the death of Ahaz, * about the same time Pekaii the 
king of Israel died by the treachery of a friend of his whose 
name was Hoshea ' (Antiq. b. ix. ch. xiii. § 1), a statement that 
accords with the 12th of Ahaz, but not with the 4th. 

Hezekiah. The 4th and 6th of Hezekiah agree with the 6th 
and 9th of Hosea, so that the 1st of his reign must coincide with 
the 4th and not the 3rd year. Josephus dates the accession of 
Hezekiah in the 4th of Hoshea, as we have found it necessary to 
do. For the same reason Hoshea's reign must begin in the 13th 
of Ahaz, though probably he might accomplish his treachery in the 
end of the year before. 

It is now only necessarv to add that, in arranging the reigns of 
the remaining kings of Judah to the close of their history, as we 
have no equivalent dates to guide us, we have copied nrom the 
plan of the preceding reigns. Manasseh we have dated in the 
year after his father's death, as in the similar long reigns of Asa 
and Jeroboam. Amon's reign has been arranged on me plan of 
Nadab's, Elah's and Ahaziah's; while from the 13th year of 
Josiah we have the dates of Jeremiah's prophesying, and from the 
4th of Jehoiakim, the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, to guide us 
through a very important part of the arrangement • 

The result of all these corrections is that there are only 240 
years from the disruption of the kingdoms to the captivity of 
Israel by Salmanezer, and 371 or 370^ years to the captivity of 
Judah by Nebuchadnezzar* This is 16 years less than the com- 
putation 



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1849.] of Israel and Judah. 257 

putation of Usher, and 33 less than that of Hales. Without 
pronouncing on the indubitable certainty of these conclusions that 
so considerably abbreviate these periods, the writer would simply 
state that they have received a very unexpected corroboration. 
After the scheme wa3 constructed, having occasion to examine 
somewhat particularly the chronology of Josephus in regard to 
another question, he met with two dates which he begs leave to 
produce, and with them to leave the reader to draw his own con- 
clusions. 

* The 10 tribes of Israel were removed out of Judea 240 years 
7 months and 7 days after they had revolted from Rehoboam, and 
given the kingdom to Jeroboam.' {Ardiq. b. ix. ch. xiv. § 1.) 

* The entire interval of time which passed from the captivity of 
the Israelites to the carrying away of the two tribes, proved to be 
130 years 6 months and 10 days. {Antiq. b. x. ch. ix. § 7.) 

These when united yield exactly our sum of 370^ ; and what 
is as important and convincing still, this number, as we shall show 
in a future article, proves a perfect clue to unravel the present 
confused chronol<^ of Josephus, by revealing at once the source 
of its principal errors. 



ON THE HYSSOP OF SCRIPTURE/ 

By J. FoBBBs BoTLE, M.D., F.R.S., L.S. & G.S., &c., 

Professor ff Materia^ Medica and Therapeutics, King's College^ London* 

When I lately had the honour of reading a paper before the Royal 
Asiatic Society, on the Mustard-tree of Scripture,^ I ventured to 
make some observations on what I considered to be the requisites 
for, and the best mode of pursuing, as well as upon what we should 
admit as proofs in, such inquiries. I proceed now to treat of 
another biblical plant, which is not less interesting than the 
Mustard-tree to determine. This is the Hyssop, frequently men- 
tioned in the Old, and twice independently in the New Testament, 
and which, if we are to judge by the numerous attempts which 
have been made to ascertain the particular plant that is meant, is 
not less diflScult to determine, than any one of ^the several unas- 
certained plants of the Bible. 

• From the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. XV., November, 1844. 
Reprinted by the permission of the Author, and of the Coimcil of the Royal Asiatic 
Society 

* The paper on the Mustard Tree here referred to was inserted in the April 
number of the Journal of Sacred Literature, 

That 



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258 On the Hyssop of Scripture. [Oct. 

That I may not seem to exaggerate what appeared to others tixe 
difficulties of ascertaining this plant, I will quote the commence- 
ment of the article on Hyssop of the learned and judicious Cel- 
sius : * De plantis plerisque in Hebraeo Veteris Testamenti codice 
commemoratis, imprimisque de niTK, recte pronuntiare, res est 
longe difficillima. Veritatem hie, si uspiara, 

Scrnposis sequimnr vadis. 
Fronte exile negotitun, 
Et dignam paeris putes. 
Aggressis labor ardans, 
Nee tractabile pondas est, 

ut loqui amat Terentianus.' It was not to Celsius alone that thi^ 
appeared to be a difficulty ; for he says ferther on, * Aben Eara, 
inter Ebr^os commentatores facile princeps, suam ignorantiam, 
circa banc stirpem, palam, et ingenue fatetur ad Exod. xii. 22 ;' 
and he thus translates the passage from the Hebrew of Aben 
Ezra : * Qaomam hcBc sit planfamm, ignoro^^ ' caetera, quanta est, 
Rabbinorum turba mode banc, mode aliam conjectando, satis 
declarant, hujus plantae notitiam sibi, Ebraeseque genti periisse/ 
(Celsius Hierobotanicon^ i. pp. 407 et 409.) 

Trusting that according to the acknowledged difficulties of the 
undertaking, so will be the indulgence accorded to any attempt to 
unravel its intricacies, I proceed, in the first instance, to adduce 
the passages in Scripture referring to hyssop. 

The first mention of hyssop in the Old Testament is imme- 
diately ^evious to the departure of the Israelites out of Egypt, 
and at tbe first institution of the Passover, when Moses called for 
all the elders of Israel and said unto them (Exod. xii. 22), ' And 
ye shall take a bunch of hyssop^ and dip it in the blood that is in 
the bason, and strike tbe lintel and the two side posts with the 
blood that is in the bason.' From this passage it is evident that 
the plant must have been indigenous in Lower Egypt, and that it 
must have been sufficiently large and leafy, to be fit for sprinkling 
the door posts as directed. 2. TTie next notices of the hyssop are 
in Leviticus and in Numbers, which books having been written by 
Moses, indicate that the substances which he directs to be em- 
ployed for sacrificial purposes, must have been procurable in the 
situations where the Israelites wandered, that is, in the countries 
between -Lower Egypt and Palestine. Thus in the ceremony 
practised in declaring lepers to be clean, the priest is directed 
(Levit. xiv. 4) ' to take for him that is to be cleansed, two birds 
alive and clean, and cedar wood, and scarlet, and hyssop.^ These 
are again all mentioned both in verse 6 and in verse 62. So in 
Numbers xix. 6, in the ceremony of burning the heifer and pre- 
paring the water of separation, the directions are : * And the 

priest 



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1849.] On the Hyssop of Scripture. 25& 

priest shall take cedar wood, and hyssop, and scarlet, and cast it 
into the midst of the burning of the heifer;* and in verse 18, 
* That a clean person shall take hyssop^ and dip it in the water, 
and sprinkle it upon the tent, and upon all the vessels, and upon 
the persons that were there,' &c. Here we again see that the 
hyssop must have been large enouch to be suitable for the pur- 
poses of sprinkling ; that it must nave been procurable on the 
outskirts of Palestine, probably in the plain of Moab. It is to 
this passage that the apostle alludes in Hebrews ix. 19 : ^ For 
when Moses had spoken every precept to all the people according 
to the law, he took the blood of calves, and of goats, with water 
and scarlet wool, and hyssop^ and sprinkled both the book and all 
the people.' In this passage we obtain no additional information, 
but as in the Septuagint, the application of the Greek term c5<r<rA;wor 
as the equivalent of the Hebrew name esof. 3. The next pas- 
sage where hyssop is mentioned in chronological order is in the 
beautiful psalm of David, where the royal penitent says (li. 2), 
^ Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my 
sin f and in verse 7, ' Purge me with hyssop^, and I shall be clean : 
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow/ This expression is 
considered by Bishop Home (and also by others), in his Commen- 
tary on the Psalms, to refer to the rite described in the above 
passages, as the ceremony of sprinkling the unclean person with 
a bunch of * hyssop,' dipped in the ' water of separation.' But 
though the passage no doubt has a figurative signification, 
yet, with all due deference to such high au^orities, the mode of 
expression is so direct, as to appear to me, b& if the hyssop itself 
did possess, or was supposed to have, some cleansing properties. 
If so, such might have led originally to its selection for the difier- 
ent ceremonies of purification, or such properties may have been 
ascribed to it in later ages, in consequence of its having been 
employed in such ceremonies. At all events, if the plant which 
we suppose to be the hyssop of Scripture can bear this significa- 
tion, it will not be less appropriate. 4. The next notice of hyssop 
is in 1 Kings iv. 33, where in the account of the wisdom of Solo- 
mon it is said : ^ And he spake of trees, from the cedar-tree that 
is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall : 
he spake ako of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and 
of fishes.' In this passage we find that the plant which is alluded 
to by the name of esob must also have grown upon a wall, though 
not necessarily to the exclusion of all other situations. Some com- 
mentators have inferred that the plant alluded to must have been 
one of the smallest, to contrast well with the cedar of Lebanon, 
and thus show the extent of the knowledge and wisdom of Solomon, 
But nothing of this kind appears in the text. The last passage 

which 



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260 On the Hyssop of Scripture. [Oct* 

which we have to adduce occurs in the New Testament, where in 
the crucifixion of our Saviour the apostle John relates (six. 29) : 
* Now there was set a vessel full of vinegar : and they filled a 
sponge with vinegar and put it upon hyssop^ and put it to his 
mouth.* This passage has elicited the remarks of various critics, 
and inferences nave been drawn respecting the nature of the plant, 
from the use to which it was applied. Others have observed, that 
the evangelists Matthew and Mark, in relating the same circum- 
stance, make no mention of the hyssop, but state that the sponge 
was put upon a reedy and given him to drink. The deductions 
which we may legitimately draw from the above passage are, that 
the hyssop was a plant of Judea, found indeed in the immediate 
neighbourhood of Jerusalem, and that it seems to have been used 
as a stick to which the sponge was fixed. If the plant which I 
suppose to be hyssop is calculated to answer this purpose, it will 
likewise answer for the elucidation of the parallel passages in the 
other evangelists. Salmasius, as quoted by Celsius says : ^ Quod- 
eunque feceris, et licet in omnia tete vertas, probabilem aliam 
verbis Evangelistae explicationem adplicare non possis, praeter eam, 
quae va-noffTrov pro calamo, vel virga hyssopi, cui alligata erat 
spongia Christo porrigenda, acdpit. Ibi va-ffcmov locum plane 
occupat xaXafxov, cujus eandem ad rem usus apud alium Evan- 
gelistam/ 

Before proceeding to ascertain the particular plant which is 
alluded to in the above passages, it is necessary to notice the 
name of hyssop in the Hebrew, as also those which were con- 
sidered its synonypaes in the several ancient versions of the Scrip- 
tures. For this information I am indebted chiefly to Celsius. 
The Hebrew name n\TK esobh, written also esob and esof, also by 

some azubj Celsius derives from a Hebrew root atK : * Nempe 
Arabum ^^J^ idem est, quod Hebr. nn fluere, quo nostrum 

nitfeC referri solet ; ut ab aspergendo nomen acceperit.' The 
Greek he derives from the Hebrew name : * ab aiTK esob derivan- 
dum esse Graecorum vaffuvov^ unde Latini kyssopum habent, nulla 
est ratio, cur dubitemus, nam equidem frustra sunt, qui s^m 
Ebrseorum, et Snotafrov Graecorum, re et nomine difierre volunt, 
ac in nominibus illis non esse nisi fortuitam soni vicinitatem ; unde 
concludunt, hand esse necessarium, ut, quae planta Ebraeis est 
niTK) sit omnino statuenda va-a-wTror Graecorum ; ex qua hypothesi 
tot diversae plantae ab unica aitK in veraonibus interpretum pro- 
puUularunt In this derivation agree Salmasius de Momonymis 
Hyles latricae, p. 19, and Bochart Geogr. Sacr. 494, * duumviros 
reipublicae literariae clarissimos ;' and Celsius adds, ^ Neminem 
puto fore tam morosum, ut etymi hujus veritatem in dubium vocare 

sustineat.' 



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1849.] On the Hyssop of Scripture. 261 

sustineat.' Notwithstanding which, I cannot help thinking with 
the authors above alluded to, that the similaritv in the sound of 
the two names is accidental, and has distracted the attention from 
other plants, to one which does not answer to all that is required. 
But it is quite possible that the name hyssop may in later times 
have been applied to the same plant, which at a certain period 
was indicated by the term esob or esof. Celsius further states, 
from Ovidius Montalbanus in Horto Botanigraphieo^ pp. 47 et 
48, ' Hyssopus Salomonica, quae erumpit e pariete, Hebraice esof 
et Cbaldaice esofa.^ Also that according to Maimonides, Saadias, 
Kimchius, and Bartenora, ilTfe( esoh of the Hebrews, is satur ygjo 

of the Arabs. This is variously translated, origanum^ thymbra^ 
Saturday serpyllum^ in diflFerent Lexicons ; but majorana^ marum^ 
&c., ' Talmudicis doctoribus ' (Celsius, Z. c. p. 409) ; while in the 
Persian version i:^j^ diramne is given as the synonym of esob, 

which is said by Castellus to refer to Absinthium ponticum. It is 
translated muscus in the Latin version of Junius Tremellius ; in 
that of Piscator, libanotis v. Ros marinus ; Origanum in disser- 
tations of Anguillaria, &c. ' His adde vtjaU^ et CfOdwroM et 
oiVt/vov, quae in Evangelista Johanne pro hyssopo legenda, supe- 
rioris aevi Aristarchi censuerunt. Sed non raro interpretum con- 
jecturcBj ut ait Cicero, magis ingenia eorum^ quam vim consensumque 
naturcB declarant/ Celsius, /. c. p. 410. 

The several plants which have been considered by different au- 
thors to be the hyssop of Scripture, are enumerated by Celsius 
imder eighteen different heads. These we shall group together 
according to their natural affinities. 

1. Adiantum Capillus Veneris, or Maidenhair, a native of 
Southern Europe and of the East, is adduced as the hyssop of 
Solomon, by Lemnius, but he thinks that this is distinct from the 
hyssop of the other passages of Scripture ; * Quoniam itaque 
exiguus est, atque e parietinia erumpit, hunc pro Hyssopo designari 
arbitror.' Herb. BiU. Expl. p. 68, 

2. Asplenium Ruta muraria, L., or Wall Rue, formerly called 
Salva Vitae, or Salvia Vitae, common in the fissures of rocks in 
Europe, is adduced by Deodatus in the notes to the Italian ver- 
sion. Both of these are of the class of Ferns. 

3. Tremellius, adopting in some measure the opinion of Lem- 
nius, yet translates esob by muscus^ and considers Polytrichum 
commune, or common Hair Moss, found both in Asia and Europe, 
to be the plant. 

4. Ovid. Montalbanus (in Horto Botanigraphico^ pj). 47 et 48) 
conceives, in a passage quoted by Celsius, that esob is the small 
plant called hlosterhysops in German, and which Celsius ascer- 

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. T tained 



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262 On tlie Hyssop of Scripture. [Oct. 

tained to be the Alsine pusilla, graminea, flore tetrapetalo, of 
Tournefort, Sagina procumbens, L., or Procumbent Pearlwort, of 
the natural family of Caryophyllese, a natiye of Europe in sterile 
and moist fields. 

Of the tribe of Compositse, and genus Artemisia, two species 
have been thought to be hyssop. 5. Abretaor Abrotonum. 'Job. 
Mercerus, proftindse in Hebraicis doctrinae vir, existimabat (Abra- 
tham) esse Graecorum, et Romanorum Abrotonum.' This is Ar- 
temisia abrotonum, L., or Southernwood, a native of the South 
of Europe and of Asia Minor, and which was, according to Cel- 
sius, thought to be the hyssop, by some of the Hebrew doctors. 
Casaubon remarks that it was probably this kind of hyssop which 
was ^ven with the sponge and vinegar. * Idque eo consilio, ut 
potionem Domino pararent penitus amaram, penitus ingratam.' 
6. Artemisia Pontica (including probably also A. Judaica), a 
native of the South of Europe, Syria, and Central Asia, * unde 
semen contra vermes colligitur et ex Chorasan deportatur Hale- 
bum ;' It. Seme santo, Lat. sementina, is adduced by Castellus as 
a translation of the Diramne which occurs in the Persian version, 
but which is usually translated Thymbra, Satureia Thymbra. 

The majority of plants which have been adduced as the hyssop 
of Scripture belong to the natural family of Labiatae, of which 
many species * are known for their uses in seasoning food, as 
thyme, sage, savory, marjoram, and mint, while others, as lavender 
and rosemary, are more celebrated for their uses as perfiimes. 
Many of these, having been described in the works of the ancients, 
have found their way into those of the Asiatics, where Lavandula 
staechas may be found under the name oostakhoodus ; rosemary 
under ukleel ooUjihhul; thyme aahasha; hyssop, zoofae ycMs ; 
basil, rihan; marjoram, satur ; mint, nana ; and sage under the 
names salUah and sefakus, which last are evident corruptions of 
salvia and elisphjacos," lllustr, Himal. Bot. p. 302. 

The several plants of the family of Labiatde which have been 
adduced by difierent authors, are as follow, — 

7. Prosper Alpinus figures as Hyssopus GraBcorum, a plant he 
describes as ' plantam nobilissimam,' having grown it from seeds 
obtained from Crete, and ' Origano Oniti * (pot-marjoram) * ad- 
prime similem, esse legitimum hyssopum visum est.' 

8. Some of the Hebrews (v. Cekius) call a plant esob javan, 
which by the Arabs is called istuchudus^ and of which the leaves 
resemble the plant called zatar (v. infra). The Arabic name is 
probably a corruption of Staechas, which is Lavandula Staechas, 
Linn. ; a plant found in the Mediterranean region. 

9. Rosmarinus officinalis, or common Rosemary, a native of the 
Mediterranean region, and which may perhaps be found in Pales- 
tine: 



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1849.] On the Hyssop of Scripture. 263 

tine : * Quod in Galilea etiam frequens sit, auctoribus Badzivilio 
et P. Dappero/ (Cels. L c. p. 418.) Some of the older authors 
have selected this plant, because being a shrubby species, a stick 
might easily be obtained, to which the sponge dipped in vinegar 
could have been tied. It is suitable also for sprinkling. 

10. Origanum Majorana, 2a/^^J/l;xov of the Greeks, and schom- 
schok of the Talmud, was considered to be the hyssop by Pena 
and Lobel. (Stirp. Advers. p. 212.) It is doubtful whether this 
be not Origanum Onites. {Spr, ii. 507.) 

11. Mentha, or a species of mint, is adduced in the Ethiopic 
version. 

12. Mentha Pulegium, another species of the same genus, the 
yXaJx^v of the Greeks, and foodnuj of the Arabs, and siah of the 
Talmud. 

13. Teucrium Polium, or Teucrium pseudohyssopum, Schreb. 
a native of the Mediterranean region, and found by Bove in the 
desert of Sinai, is brought forward by Columna, not only as the 
hyssop of the Greeks and Romans, ^ sed ipsius quoque Mosis et 
Salomonis veram et genuinam hyssopum.' « 

14. Thymus serpyllum, or common Thyme, widely difiused in 
mountainous situations in Europe and Northern Asia ; has/m of 
the Arabs, and tj^anip Talmudicis. Cel. I c, p. 423. 

15. In the Arabic version of the Books of Moses, esoh is trans- 
lated by jSjUiO satur or zatur of the Arabs, zitri of Talmudical 

writers ; the Arabic name is considered by them to be synonymous 
with oqiyayos of the Greeks, supposed to be Origanum heracleoti- 
cum, L., but several diflFerent species or varieties are included 
under the Arabic name satur ^ which it is needless here to inquire 
into, as they are all similar in nature and properties. 

Some other names, as 16. Hyssopus cochaliensis, and, 17. Ma- 
rum album, Maruchivara Talmucidis, are adduced by Celsius, pp. 
416 et 419, which I have not yet traced out. Sibthorp {FL Grceca^ 
i. 596, 597) mentions that in Greece the name vaatlf^os is applied 
both to Satureia grseca and to S. Juliana. He himself conjectures 
that Thymbra spicata may be the SffffcoTrov oqsiv^y of Dioscorides. 
Thymbra verticillata, L., was similarly adduced by Dalechamp. 

The only plant which remains of those adduced by Celsius is, 
18. the common or garden Hyssop, Hyssopus oflScinalis of bota- 
nists, which is supported by Celsius himself. It has had the 
greatest number of suffrages, apparently from the similarity of 
name. This may or may not be accidental. It is in the first 
place desirable to know, not only whether the esobot the Hebrews, 
the vaai'jrQs of the Greeks, and the hyssopus of the Romans, was 
the same plant, but also whether what we now call hyssop is the 

T 2 same 



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264 On the Hyssop of Scripture. [Oct. 

game plant as any one of these. Of this, I believe, with Spren- 
gel, and others, that there is no proof. 

The account given of the hyssop by Dioscorides is so imper- 
fect, that we have no points of comparison given in the article on 
that plant. But in describing oqiy^vov {Organum heracleoticum), 
the leaves are described as being similar to those of hyssop, but 
that its umbel is not rotate, as if he wished to indicate that such 
was the inflorescence of the hyssop. In the chapter on Chryso- 
coma it is said that it has a corymboid coma, like the hyssop. 
Nicander moreover has stated that the hyssop is like marjoram 
((7xfji-4^vxoy) and the Arab Isaac Ebn Amram compares zoofa 

(U*i) with marjoram. Besides this, Dioscorides mentions that 

there are two kinds, one mountain, and the other garden hyssop, 
and that the best is produced in Cilicia ; Pliny adds * in Pamphy- 
lium et Smymeum.^ The Arab authors, Abu'l Fadli and Al- 
Olaji, as quoted by Celsius, also mention two kinds, the mountain 
and the garden. In the Talmud authors, that which is found in 
the desert is distinguished from the garden kind. Maimonides, 
as quoted by Celsius, says : ' Hyssopi multae sunt species, in legem 
autem haec qua homines plerumque utuntur in cibum, quam nos 
melle condire solemus.' That it was employed by the Greeks 
and Romans as a condiment is evident from its mention by 
Apicius ; others describe it as bitter and fragrant ; Dioscorides 
mentions only the diseases in which it is useful. 

The modern hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis, L. Sp. 796) belongs 
to a genus of which itself is the only species. It is a perennial 
plant, usually very smooth ; (but a variety is described by De 
CandoUe, in the Flore Frangaise^ Suppl. 396, which he calls H. 
canescens, from its being covered with' short rigid hairs.) The 
root throws up several leafy stems, which are woody at the base, 
diflFuse, and much branched. The branches are from one to two 
feet in length. The leaves are opposite, sessile, rather thick in 
texture, narrow, linear, lanceolate, in one variety elliptical ; mar- 
gins very entire, flat, or subrevolute ; green on both sides ; below, 
one-nerved ; held up to the light and looked at with a magnifying 
glass, they seem to be obscurely dotted. The flowers, of a bluish 
or reddish colour, are arranged along one side ot the stem in closely 
approximated whorls in a terminal spike. The floral leaves are 
similar to those of the stem, but smaller. Bracts lanceolate, 
linear, acute. The calyx is tubular, fifteen-nerved, with five equal 
teeth, the throat being naked. The corolla, of a reddish-purple 
colour, with its tube equalling the calyx, is bilabiate, with its 
upper lip erect, flat, and emarginate ; the lower one spreading 
and trifid, middle lobe largest ; stamens four, exserted, didyna- 

mous. 



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1849.] On the Hyssop of Scripture. 265 

mous, diverging ; the lower ones the longest ; anthers two-celled ; 
cells linear^ divaricate ; style nearly equally bifid at the apex ; 
lobes subulate, with the stigmas at the apex. The four achenia 
(or seeds with their coverings) ovoid, three-cornered, compressed, 
and rather smooth. 

The localities of the hyssop, as given by Mr. Bentham, the latest 
and most accurate author on the family (Labiatse) to which it 
belongs, are as follow : * Hab. in Europa australiori et Asia me- 
dia ; in Hispania [Pavon]^ Gallia australi, Italia, Germania aus- 
trali, rarior in Germania media [^Reichenbach']^ in Belgio {^Dumor" 
tier], in Rossia meridionali [Prescott"], in Tauria et Caucaso in 
Jugo Altaico [Bunffe].* M. Bove mentions a hyssopus within three 
leagues of Jerusalem, and the rosemary. I myself have obtained 
it, and the specimens have been examined by Mr, Bentham, from 
Kanum and the Ganthung Pass in Kunawur, a tract along the 
Sutledge on the northern face of the Himalayan Mountains, and 
which may be considered a part of Tibet. 

The hyssop is remarkable for its fragrant and aromatic proper- 
ties, hence its employment as a condiment and a sweet herb, and 
as a moderate excitant in medicine i to it, however, many other 
virtues were formerly ascribed. 

Of all these plants, we need only say, as Celsius has already 
done respecting a plant which he thought to be less eligible than 
what is commonly known by the name of hyssop, * Nam postmodo, 
ubi de vera hyssopo aliqua dicenda erunt, Abrotonum cum reli- 
quis, hyssopi umbris, uno falculae ictu succidetur.' 

The plants adduced b^ the latest writers are, 1st, Phytolacca 
decandra, by Dr. Kitto m the Pictorial Bible in Exod. xii. 22 i"" 
' The hyssop of the Sacred ScriptiH-es has opened a wide field for 
conjecture, but in no instance has any plant been suggested, that 
at the same time had a sufficient length of stem to answer the 
purpose of a wand or pole, and such detergent or cleansing pro- 
perties, as to render it a fit emblem for purification. Our wood- 
cut represents a shrub remarkable in both these respects, which is 
the Phytolacca decandra,^ Rosenmaller says, the Hebrew word 
esobh does not denote our hyssop, but an aromatic plant resem- 
bling it, the wild marjoram, which the Germans call dosten or 
Wohlgemuth, the Arabs zater, and the Greeks origanon. 

Dr. Robinson, in the ascent of Jebel Musa by himself and Mr. 
Smith says : ' In all this part of the mountains were great quan- 
tities of the fragrant plant jddeh, which the monks call hyssop' 
{Bihh Ees. i. 157) ; and on the ascent of St. Catherine, ' The 
ja'deh or hyssop was here in great plenty ; and especially the 

• This is altered in the new edition of that work, which adopts the conclusion 
here exhibited.— Ebitob. 

fragrant 



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266 On the Hyssop of Scripture. [Oct 

fragrant za!ter^ a species of thyme (Thymus serpyllum of Forskal)/ 

E. 162. Lady Calcott suggests that the hyssop of aspersion was 
yssop tied to a stick of cedar. Winer {Biblisches Real-Worter^ 
buchy ii. 820) admits the same plant as Rosenmiiller, but considers 
that several plants were included under the name esobh ; and 
concludes his observations on Ysop by saying ; * We must, how- 
ever, wait for more accurate observations upon the species of 
hyssop and origanum indigenous in Western Asia, before the 
meaning of the Hebrew esobh can be finally settled.' 

My attention was first directed to the subject when lately col- 
lating the list of drugs in the Latin edition of Rhases, with those 
in my own MS. Catalogue before alluded to. It is stated in that 
work, as indeed in that of Dioscorides, &c., that there are two 
kinds of hyssop, the one a garden, the other a mountain plant ; 
but Rhases further adds, that the latter is found on the mountain 
of the Temple, that is, of Jerusalem : * est herba quae oritur in 
montibus Templi, folia ut majorana. Sylvestri montanus fortior, 
et dicitur " ysopus altaris." ' These two kinds are also noted by 

Celsius as ' Hyssopus in montibus Hierosolymorum, JL^ r^J 
(JwJJiJl zoqfa bu jibal al kuds^^ and * Hyssopus sicca, ^jyyjb li«; 
zoofa yabis,^ Jerusalem is now called by the Arabs El-kuds^ ' the 
Holy,' and also by Arabian writers Bett^eUMuhdis^ or Beit-eU 
Mukuddus^ the Sanctuary, &c. (Robinson's Biblical Researches^ i. 
380). Rhases again, in the article Epithymum {Cuscuta or Dod- 
der), says of it : ' Caret radice sed suspendit supra arborem yssopi 
magni et folia ysopi collieitur cum eo ; et fit in montibus Templi.' 
So Serapion, quoting Aben Mesuai, says of it : * Ex Creta ac 
domo sancta, allatum ;* and of the hyssop, he quotes Isaac Eben 
Amram as saying, ^ Laudatissima, ex domus sanctae montibus.' 
Whether these expressions refer to the common hyssop, or to that 
which we conceive to be the true plant, it is not easy to deter- 
mine, as the accounts are confiised. But the large size of one 
kind indicates that it must have been a very diflerent plant from 
the common hyssop. One troublesome circumstance is, that the 
translators of these Arabic works do not always adhere to the 
arrangement of their authors, as they sometimes convert the 
arrangement according to the Arabic alphabet, into one according 
to the Latin names and the Roman alphabet. Thus in the great 
work of Rhases, called Hawi, or * Continens,' hyssop is described 
under the letter ain^ and the name in the Latin translation is 
written ysopus; but in his work AdMansor, we have hyssop under 
the letter ' Ze id est, Z,' and two kinds mentioned, one called 
*Cyfe, id est, hyssopus quse vegetatur,' and the other written 
*Qisypus autem humida, quae et cerotes dicitur, quae ex lanae 

sordibus 



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1 849.] On the Hyssop of Scripture. 267 

sordibus fit.' These two varieties refer to the (jjmjIj Vijj^ zoofa 

yabis, or khooshk, that is, dry hyssop, and the other to i^-\?j lijkj 

zoofa rutuby Lana succida, oYauvos of Diosc. 2. c. 84. (N. 98. 2. 
Av. c. 364.) Here we have very clear evidence, that two very 
difierent things have been treated of under one name, apparently 
only because the Greek names are a little similar. Etence it is 
not impossible but that similar confusion may have taken place 
with the Greek va-o-oo'Trof^ hyssopus, and an oriental name like the 
Hebrew esob or esof 

Having suspected the existence of a plant distinct from the 
hyssop, I was led to what appears to me its discovery, by a passage 
from jBurckhardt's Travels in Syria, quoted by Ih*. Kitto in his 
work entitled Tke Physical Geography and Natural History of 
the Holy Land, p. 252 : * Among trees and shrubs known only by 
native names and imperfect descriptions : the a^nzef is spoken of 
this month by Burckhardt, while travelling in the Sinai Peninsula. 
On noticing its presence in Wady Kheysey, he describes it as a 
tree which he had already seen in several other wadys. It springs 
from the fissures in the rocks, and its crooked stem creeps up the 
mountain-side like a parasitical plant. According to the Arabs 
it produces a fruit of the size of the walnut, of a blackish colour, 
and very sweet to the taste. The bark of the tree is white, and 
the branches are thickly covered with small thorns ; the leaves are 
heart-shaped, and of the same shade of green, as those of the oak. 
Syria, 536, 537.' 

The above description, though apparently incorrect in the ap- 
plication of some terms, as that of tree, to a plant creeping like a 
parasitical plant, yet will strike most botanists, as a characteristic 
description of the Common Caper Bush, which is indigenous in 
these regions, and which I was aware had an Arabic name, in 
sound something like the aszefot Burckhardt. The caper-plant 
is one of those which in the copious language of the Aral^ has 
more than one name. It is well known that its most common 
name is jX kibbar or kubar. From this the Greek xiw^qtf, and 

the Latin capparis, appear to have been derived. In referring to 
one of the Persian works on Materia Medica, which has been 
published with an English translation by Mr. Gladwin, that is, 
the Ulfaz Udwiyeh^ we are referred from capers in the Index to 

Nos. 1271, 175 and 184. The first of these is^^or capers, 
the second is^J3\ ^\ ussul ul hubiry root of the caper bush. No. 
184 is another name for the same thing, t-itfOI J^l w*m^ «^ dsuf 

as it is translated, root of the caper bush. We may leat'n also 

from 



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268 On the Hyssop of Scripture, [Oct. 

from other sources, that (xsuf is one of tfie names of the caper 
hush! Thus in the Karrms^ or Great Arabic Dictionary ^ asuf is 
al kuhher. So also in Freytag's Lexicon ArahicoLatinum, asuf 
is translated cappanris; likewise in Richardson's Persian^ Arabic^ 
and English Dictionary^ London, 1829, and in Shakespear*s 

Hindustani Dictionary^ we have \_^^ \ asuf * the caper tree or 

root.' That this has long been known to be one of the names of 
the caper plant is evident from MentzeVs Index Nominum Plan-- 
tarum Multilinguis, where wc have nlasif given as an Arabic 
name of capparis^ taken from the Index of Avicenna, editio 
Veneta, 1564, fol. I quote this, as I am unable to find the word 
in my own copy of Avicenna, Venice, 1555. It appears to be a 
corruption of ala^if that Forskal heard applied to the caper-plant 
which he found at Taas near Mocha, as a shrub growing out of a 
wall {Flora ^gyptiacO'Arahica\ and of which he says, 'Si haec 

vera est Capparis spinosa, competit illi nomen Arab, lasaf cJ^/ 
This may be a corruption of vj^^aJM, or Forskal may have 
written it simply kJ^^S asuf and the mere junction of the letters 
would convert it into ^_jj ^ lastf a mistake which might easily be 
made even by the celebrated Niebuhr, as he published the work 
from Forskai's notes after his death. In my own MS. Materia 
Medica, asuf is given as a synonym of kibbur, with kifaritSy as the 
Yoonanee or Greek name, which is evidently intended for xagr- 
5ra/?if, as the letter p is wanting in the Arabic alphabet. 

The similarity in sound between the asuf oi the Arabs and the 
esof of the Hebrews cannot fail to strike every one, and this simi- 
larity would extend equally to the writing of the two names in 
the language of the other. A less degree of similarity has, in 
other cases of Hebrew and Arabic names, been considered to 
indicate identity of origin in words in these two languages. This 
similarity might certainly be accidental, but it cannot be accidental 
that the plant called asuf hy the Arabs answers to every particular 
which is required for the due elucidation, not of one, but of every 
passage of the Bible in which esof is mentioned. TJbis we shall 
proceed, we hope satisfactorily, to prove. 

First with respect to its geograpnical distribution, the asuf like 
the esof ought to be found m Lower Egypt, in the desert or 
country between the Red Sea and Palestine, and also in Palestine 
itself. 

The caper-plant, Capparis spinosa of Linnseus and of all modem 
botanists, is well known to be abundant in the south of Europe, 
where it appears to be indigenous. It is found also in the islands 
vof the Mediterranean and generally on the coasts of that sea, the 

Mediterranean 



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1849.] On the Hyssop of Scripture. 269 

Mediterranean region of botanists. It is specifically mentioned 
as found in Lower Egypt, by Forskal in his Flora j^gypt^-Arab. 
as Capparis spinosa, called kahhar bythe Arabs, growing wild in 
the neighbourhood of Alexandria. The same facts are stated by 
De Lile, in his Illustratio FL .^Igypt,^ pp. 8 and 16, forming the 
botanical portion of the great Frcmch work on Egypt. Previous 
to these authorities, Prosper Alpinus had stated that the capers 
of Alexandria were larger than those of other places : * Capparis 
Alexandriae majores quam alibi inveniantur proveniunt, quos 
cappar quoque appellant' {De PL .^^ypti^ p. 60). So Pliny, 
* Likewise in -^gypt groweth capparis, a shrub of a harder and 
more woody substance : well known for the seed and fruit that it 
carrieth, commonly eaten with meats, and for the most part the 
capres and the stalke are plucked and gathered together. Ilie 
outlandish capres (not growing in JEgypt) we must take good 
heed of and beware : for those of Arabia be pestilentiall and 
venomous : they of Africke be hurtful to the gumbs, and prin- 
cipally the Marmarike are enemies to the matrice, and breed 
ventosities. The Apulian capres cause vomit, and make lubricite 
both of stomack and bellie. Some caII the shrub cynosbatos z 
others ophiostphayla.' (Holland's Translation^ xiii. 23.) So in 
Avic. 141, capparis is called habar in the margin, with a reference 
to Diosc. iL 166, 'quaedam est species, quae e Rubro Mari 
defertur.' 

In Lower Egypt is also found another species, first discovered 
by Lippi, the Capparis JEgyptia of Lamarck. It is figured by 
De Lile, FL 2Eg.^ p. 93, t. 31, £ 3, and described by him as a 
spreading shrub, of which the branches are slender but firm ; it 
grows in the mountains of the desert opposite Minyeh. This 
species was also found by M. Bove, and by Aucher-Eloy, in the 
desert in the neighbourhood of Suez. 

In the deserts and tract of country in which the Israelites 
wandered, the caper-plant, or some of the species of capparis 
resembling it in general appearance, are no doubt found in many 
places. The notices of it, however, are few, but the localities are 
so widely separated that we are warranted in considering that it 
might be found in many intermediate situations ; and it would be 
so by competent travellers, that is, by those having some knowledge 
of Natural History. 

From the description of Burckhardt already quoted, in which 
he saw the aszefvn the Sinai Peninsula, springing from lie fissures 
of rocks, with its crooked stem creeping up the mountain side like 
A parasitical 'plant, with a white bark and the branches thickly 
covered with small thorns, and heart-shaped leaves, — there can be 
Jittle doubt of this being a species of capparis, and probably the 

caper-plant 



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270 On the Hyssop of Scripture. [Oct. 

caper-plant. It is interesting to observe that he mentions it as a 
plant which he had already seen in several other wadys. We 
have, however, very definite information respecting the caper- 
plant in this situation, as M. Bove, in his * Relation d'un Voyage 
feotanique en Egypte, dans les trois Arabics, en Palestine et en 
Syrie ' {Ann. des Sc, Nat. i. 72^ says : * Le mont Sainte Catherine 
est au sud-sud-ouest du mont Sinai. Dans les deserts qui envi- 
ronnent ces montagnes j'ai trouve Capparis spinosa^^ &c. Belon 
{Ohs. ii. 21) mentions 'Capparis non spinosa — ^minores enim in 
Capparum stirpibus spinosis nascuntur . . . ,' and at c. 60 ' Per 
istos colics oberrantes, capparcs invenimus, pumilarum ficuum 
altitudinem aequantes, — semina instar piperis calida.' So Dr. 
Shaw, ' Capparis Arabica, fiructu ovi magnitudine, semine piperis 
instar acri.' Belon, Obs.^ ii. 60. ' Nostra tricubitalis est. Folia 
habet glauca, crassa, succulenta, rotunda, uncialia, Fnictus, quem 
vidi, pollicis fiiit magnitudine, oblongus cucumeris forma, quem 
Arabes appellant Filfal jibbel, i. e. Piper montanum. Copiose 
cresdt in via ad montem Sinai' {Travels, ii. 355). More to the 
eastward we have no distinct notices of the true caper-plant, but 
other species are found, as C. heteracantha and C. leucophylla, 
between Aleppo and Bagdad by Olivier {D.C.Sp., 12 et 13). 
So Aucher-Eloy mentions the banks of the Tigris as covered with 
Ma plus vigoureuse vegetation;' that is, with Tamarix, Salix, 
Capparis leucophylla. If we trace it to the southward, we have 
already mentioned, that Forskal foimd it as a small shrub growing 
out of a wall near Taas in the neighbourhood of Mocha. Dr. 
Falconer, late Superintendent of the East India Company's Bota- 
nical Garden at Saharunpore, has informed me that when at Aden 
on his way home, he saw the rocks there covered with a species of 
capparis, which appeared very like the common caper. A species 
very similar to it is also among the plants collected by Lieutenant 
Wellsted in the island of Socotra. 

We have, thirdly, to find the caper indigenous in Palestine and 
Syria. This there would be no difficulty in doing, if travellers 
took the trouble of noting the vegetation of a country, as one of 
the features which distinguish its physical geography. Some omit 
all notice of common plants. Others notice a plant only when 
first met with. Dr. Kitto, who has made an abstract of nearly 
all the natural history information of most of the travellers in 
the Holy Land, mentions the caper, only in the fields near 
Aleppo, as observed by Dr. Russel. M. Aucher-Eloy mentions 
a species of capparis (C. efiiisa) in the neighbourhood of Mount 
Tabor. Dr. Clarke found ' Capparis spinosa, common caper-tree, 
at Cyprus, and in the Holy Land (Jaffa).' M. Bove, entering 
Palestine from Egypt, mentions on his arrival at Gaza, 'Au 

nombre 



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1849.] On the Hyssop of Scripture. 271 

nombre des plantes spontanees, je citerai les suivantes : Capparis 
spinosa.^ Again, on his arrival at Jerusalem, he says (/. c. p. 173), 
' Dans les ruines croissent les Rhus coriaria, rHyoscyamus coriaria, 
le Momordica Elaterium, et le Capparis spinosaJ Belon haci 
previously mentioned finding the caper-plant in the vicinity of 
Jerusalem (t?. Rauwolf, p. 269). 

In the above references we have ample proofs of the caper- 
plant, or asuf being found in all the situations where the esofi& 
mentioned in the Bible. That it grows out of the fissures of 
rocks and the ruins of buildings is evident fipom some of the above 
extracts. Thus De Candolle gives as its habitat, ' In muris et 
rupestribus Europae australis et orientis.' When at Aleppo, 
Rauwolf says {Travels^ p. 49), 'There grew also in the road and 
on old walls such plenty of capers, that they are not at all 
esteemed ; they take these flowers before they open, and pickle 
them, and eat them for sauce with their meat ;' and again^ at 
p. 75, * and near it in old decayed brick-walls and stony places/ 
So Ray {Hist» Plant, p. 1629), 'Locis arenosis et ruderatis 
gaudet. Nos in muris et ruderibus Romae, Senarum, Florentiae 
et alibi in Italia observavimus spontaneam ; cultam circa Tolonam 
in Gallo-provincia, ad muros et macerias.' 

We proceed now to show that capers were supposed to be 
possessed of cleansing properties. This is evident firom the follow- 
ing quotations. Thus Murray {Apparatus Medicaminum^ ii. 381), 
in summing up the account of its uses as given by the ancients, 
says : ' Et quae veteres, quibus insigni in pretio fiiit, de eo re- 
censent, ad aperiendi vim potissimum et abstergendi pertinent. 
Nempe precipue in obstructionibus lienis, in mensiumsiippressione, 
malo ischiadico, in strumis discutiendis, porro in ulceribus expur- 
gandis, praeceperunt. Diosc. Mat. Med., ii. 204 ; Galen De 
Simpl, 1. 7 ; Plin. Hist. Nat. xx. 15.' 

Dr. Alston {Mat. Med., i. 371) observes, * Hippocrates even 
orders it as a detergent in peripneumonia. ^'Postquam autem 
purum esse sputum caeperit an concham majorem et sesamum . . . 
Quod si magis educere voles radicis capparis corticem his ad- 
misceto." De Morb. iii. 493, lin. 23.' 

Pliny, who exhausted all the sources of information to give us 
in his fTatural History a view of the knowledge of his times, has 
a curious observation on the utility of the root of capers in a 
disease closely allied to leprosy, the complaint in whicn esof was 
employed by the Israelites. Thus in the translation of Holland 
we learn that ' The root of capres is singular good to take away 
the white spotted morphew (cousin germane to the leprosie), in 
case it be stamped, and the place affected rubbed therewith. 
Take the rind of the root, the quantitie of two drams, and drinke 

it 



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272 On the Hyssop of Scripture, [Oct. 

it in wine, it helpeth the swelled splene ; provided alwaies that the 
patient forbeare the use of baines and hot-houses : for (by report) 
this course continued 35 daies will cause the said splene to purge 
away, partly by urine and partly by seege. The same, if it be 
taken in dnnke, allaieth paine in the loins and cureth the palsey. 
The seed of capers sodden in vinegre, brused and applied to the 
teeth, or otherwise the root thereof chewed only, assuageth the 
tooth-ach. A decoction of capers in oile, instilled into the ears, 
mitigateth their paines. The leaves and the root newly gathered, 
and so applied as a cataplasme with honey, healeth the corrosive 
ulcers that eat to the very bone. Likewise the root resolveth all 
those glandular swellings which wee call the King's evill : and if 
the same be sodden in water, it discusseth the tumors behind the 
ears, and riddeth away the wormes breeding within. It cureth 
also the infirmities of the liver. The manner is to give the same 
in vinegre and honey for to chase away the vermin engendered 
within me guts. BoUed in vinegre, it is singular for the cankers 
or ulc^ations within the mouth : howbeit, all authors doe accord, 
that they be not good for the stomacke ' (book xx. ch. xv.). 

In modern works which have derived much of their information 
from the more ancient, we find it noticed, even in a botanical 
work, that * Les capriers excitent Tappetit, et sont regard^ comme 
aperitives, antiscorbutiques, et propres pour tuer les vers. L'ecorce 
de la racine est aperitive, diuretique et emmenagogue.' Lamarck, 
EncycL Botanique, art. ' Caprier. 

So capers formed one of the *Quinque radices aperientes 
minores,' or the five lesser aperient roots, as Caper, Dandelion, 
Eryngo, Madder, and Restharrow. It still holds a place in some 
of the German Pharmacopoeias as well as in the Spanish, and con- 
tinues to be employed throughout Eastern countries, where old 
remedies still enjoy their pristine repute. In Europe it is now 
almost universally known as a condiment, its unexpanded flower- 
buds being preserved in vinegar. 

It remains only to consider whether the caper-plant is suitable 
to the passage of the New Testament ip which the hyssop is 
mentioned, and it appears to me, that it is as well so, as any other 
that has been proposed. 

The passage in which hyssop is mentioned has bean much com- 
mented on, in consequence* oi the difficulty which commentators 
have experienced in finding a plant which should answer in all 
points to what is required. Thus it is said, John xix. 29, ^kbvos 

we^iOe'vTes", v^oariveyKav avTov ru <JTo/[>iaTt, or as translated in the 
authorized vereion : * Now there was seta vessel full of vinegar, and 
they filled a sponge with vinegar, and put it upon hyssop {jixing 

it 



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1849.] On the Hyssop of Scripture. 273 

it on a hyssop stalk of some) and put it to his mouth.* One diffi- 
culty has arisen from the evangelists Matthew and Mark, in 
describing the same occurrence, making no mention of the hyssop. 
Thus Matthew (xxvii. 48) describes one, as bringing a sponge, 
mXihodi re o%ovs^ xal TTsqiOeU xaXa/Ao;, and they ^ filled it with 
vinegar and put it on a reed, and gave liim to drink.' Mark 
(xv. 36) in like manner writes, xai ys/xiffas a-Troyyav oiflvs^ Trepideir 
r£ naKdiAa)^ ^ and one filling a sponge with vinegar, and placing it 
about a reed, gave him to drink.' 

In all the three accounts we have the sponge filled with vinegar, 
and given to our Saviour to drink ; Matthew and Mark stating 
it as being raised on a reed, while John omits all mention of the 
reed, but describes the sponge as being put on or about hyssop. 
By some commentators it has been supposed that the sponge and 
hyssop were fixed to a reed or stick, and that one evangelist has 
omitted all notice of the latter, and the two other evangelists of 
the hyssop. Other commentators argue, that in the relation of 
the same circumstances by these witnesses, it is evident that the 
reed or stick must be the same as a stick of hyssop. As John is 
the more particular in his description and usually supplies what 
has been omitted in the other accounts of our Saviour, and as he 
expressly states (xix. 35), ' And he that saw it bare record, and 
his record is true,' so are we bound to make our explanation suit 
his description. 

The difficulty has been to find a plant fitted for the purpose and 
to which the name hyssop was applied ; for it is acknowledged on 
all hands that the common hyssop is too short and too slender to 
be used as a sticL Some commentators therefore have proceeded 
so far as to suggest alterations in the text. Thus Camerarius for 
va-a-ofTrco proposes vcrffcb, pilo vel verutOj * javelin or dart.' Heinsius 
suggests vffffojruy asta^ * a spear or pike,' and also olVi/Trof, lana 
succida, vel sordida ; as the words vaaoDVoy and oiavrrov are often 
confounded by others as well as by Arab authors, * multis locia 
apud auctores tam GraBcos, quam Latinos, errore scribarum esse 
permutatas ' (Celsius, L c. p. 444). Bochart again, retaining the 
name, has proposed changing the case of hyssop, ' et pro vo-tjojTru 
legendum censuit va-a-cwTrov, Quasi veliet Johannes: 'prepiQevrss 
tfaaojito^ (jTioyycoy posuerunt liyssopum circa spongiam : quae expli- 
catio est violenta ; contraria vero maxime naturalis, cum spoute 
se ofierat accusativus a^noyyov ex ingenio linguae, et phraseos, hie 
subintelligendus, et repetendus, ut sit : 'jrspMvres {aTroyyov) uffcroiTrw^ 
i. e. vsql v(j<jw<irovy quomodo Graeci nonnunquam loquuntur.' Celsius, 
/. c. p. 445. 

Instead of supposing, as in the above instance, tliat the hyssop 
was placed round the sponge, Celsius himself is of opinion that 

the 



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274 On tfte Hyssop of Scripture, [Oct. 

the sponge was filled with vinegar, and that to it was tied a bundle 
of hyssop, which might thus be contained in its middle when it 
was reached up to our Saviour. He further adduces Casaubon 
and others as agreeing with this explanation, as well as with the 
Ethiopic version, where we read, ' Et erat ibi vas aceto plenum, 
et impleverunt spongiam aceto, ac foliis hyssopi, et ligarunt super 
arundinem.' 

But all these explanations and interpretations are variations 
from the plain and obvious meaning of the passage of St. John in 
which the sponge filled with vinegar is described as being put 
upon hyssop, that is, a stick of hyssop, and raised to our Saviour 
on the cross. The difficulties experienced have arisen from the 
common hyssop, which is generally supposed to be the plant 
alluded to, not being suited for the purpose. But we have already 
seen that the common hyssop does not answer in any respect to 
what is required. The caper-plant, which we have seen exactly 
appropriate to so many of the passages, seems also well suited to 
the present, as it will yield a stick large enough for the purpose. 
And this is required by some of the versions, as the old Italian, 
un bastone (Chissopo : likewise in the Spanish, and in the French 
edition of Montensi, au bout (Tun baton dHhyssope. So also in 
that of many celebrated men. 

Some also of the ancient statements refer evidently to a larger 
plant than the common hyssop. Thus Josephus {Antiq, viii. 2) 
ranks it with trees. By the Rabbins it was included among 
woods, 'hyssopum inter ligna censeri apud Babbinos.' Tract 
Shebiity viii. 1 ; Parah, xi. 8. So in Tract Succak^ xiii. 1, * inter 
mentionem cannarum, et surculorum, quibus obtexerunt Judaei 
tentoria in festo tabemaculorum memorari etiam hyssopum' 
(Celsius, Hierobot. 439-442). It is more than probable that the 
asuf or caper-plant, is the esob or e^of referred to in these pas- 
sages, and Winer says, ' Truly it cannot be concealed, that the 
Talmudists distinguish the hyssop of the Greeks and Romans 
from the esobh of the Law.' Biblisches Real- Worterbuch^ ii. 820. 

The height of a shrub which would be fitted for such a purpose 
may be judged of, by what must have been the fact, that the 
cross of our Saviour could not have been higher that what any 
man of moderate stature misht, with an ordinary stick and his 
arm stretched out, easily reach the mouth of our Saviour. For it 
is evident tliat the cross, to be of sufficient strength and yet carried 
by a man, could not also be very lofty. 

For such a purpose it is evident that no large tree is required, 
because a shrub of moderate dimensions would easily yield a stick 
of three or four feet in length ; and such any of the old caper 
bushes or trees, as they are sometimes called, growing in the con- 
genial 



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1849.] On the Hyssop of Scripture. 275 

genial climate of Palestine, would be able to supply. * Ibi [that 
is, in Egypt], et capparis firmioris ligni firutex ' (rlin. xiii. 23). 
The prickly nature of th6 stem, moreover, would better fit it for the 
purpose of having the sponge aflSxed to it. The caper-plant was 
not only a plant growing wild on the rocks and walls of Jerusalem, 
no doubt, in ancient times as at the present time, but one which 
seems from the earliest times to have been valued as a medicine, 
and its flower-buds employed as an article of diet, or rather as a 
condiment. If it was allowed to hazard a conjecture, we might 
say that a notched stick, or a cleft reed, might have been employed 
in gathering tiie caper buds from oflF the extremities of the 
branches, and to this the name of hyssop stick might correctly be 
applied. This employment of capers is further interesting as ex- 
plaining in some measure the presence of the vessel full of vinegar 
(^oiflvs fAstTTov). The word o^o^j which is translated 'vinegar' in 
the English version, and acetum in the Latin, is sometimes 
translated * sour' wine,' and is supposed to have been there for the 
refreshment of soldiers. It may have been so ; but it is curious 
that vinegar (which was also called o^or by the Greeks, as we may 
see in a nearly contemporary author, that is, Dioscorides, v. 22, 
5r6§i o%ovs\ should have been required for preserving different parts 
of the caper-plant in those days as at the present time. For we 
learn from Pliny, who says of fruits eaten, * In fruticoso genere, 
cum caule capparis' (xv. 28). Again (xiii. 28), *Ibi et capparis, 
firmioris ligni frutex, seminisque et cibi vulgaii caule quoque una 
plerumque decerpto.' 'Likewise in Egypt groweth capparis, a 
shrub of a harder and more woodie substance : well knowne for 
the seed and fruit that it carrieth, commonly eaten with meats, 
and for the most part the capers and the stalke are plucked and 
gathered together' (Holland s Pliny, xiii. 23, and in other places). 
' Tritum ex aceto semen decoctiam,' &c. ' The seed of capres 
sodden in vinegre, bruised arid applied to the teeth, &c. It cureth 
also the infirmities of the liver. The manner is to give the same 
in vinegre and honey. Boiled in vinegre, it is singular for the 
cankers or exulcerations within the mouth ' (xx. 15). The caper 
plant, though wild in so many parts of the Roman Empire, was 
yet cultivated even in that age. * Quippe cum capparis quoque 
seratur, siccis maxime, area in defossu cavata, ripisque undique 
circumstructis lapide: alias evagatur per agros et cogit solum 
sterilescere. Floret sestate, viret usque ad Vergiliarum occasum, 
sabulosis familiarissimum ' (xix. 8). Ray describes the process : 
'Gemmas florum adultas — colligunt, — Tum vasi immittunt, et 
acetum super affundunt.' Hist, Plant, 1629. 

The caper-plant is, however, supposed by many to be mentioned 
in Scripture by the name abiyonah, in Eocles. xii. 5, which in the 

Septuagint 



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276 On the Hyssop of Scripture. [Oct- 

Septuagint and Vulgate has been translated capparis. This is 
not admitted by others, as in the authorized English version, 
where abiyonah is translated ^ desire/ ^ When the almond-tree 
shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire 
(abiyonah) shall fail.' As the name ahionoth was applied to the 
small fhiits of trees and to berries, so it has been thought to be 
the same word as ahiyonah^ and to indicate the caper-bush. This 
plant may have had two names in the HebVew language, as, 
indeed, it has in the Arabic, and we may suppose it to be par- 
ticularly adduced as growing especially on old walls and tombs. 
Further, if we suppose, as is natural, that the figurative language 
employed by Solomon is carried on throughout the sentence, it 
appears to me appropriate. For the caper-plant, like most of its 
tribe, is conspicuous for its long flower-stalks, which are erect 
when the plant is in flower and the fruit young, but which bend 
and hang down as the fruit ripens. ' As the flowering of the 
almond-tree has been supposed to refer to the whitening of the 
hair, so the drooping of the ripe fruit of a plant which is con- 
spicuous on the walls of buildings and on tombs, may be supposed 
to typify the hanging down the head before " man goeth to his 
long home." ' Cyclopcedia of Biblical Lit., art. ' Abiyonah.' 

The caper-plant is too well known to require a description, 
especially as so many details have already been given respecting 
its habit. We have seen in the first place that it has a name, 
aztf, in Arabic, sufficiently similar to the Hebrew esof or esobk. 
It is found in Lower Egypt, in the deserts of Sinai, and in 
Palestine. Thus it is found in all the places where the esobh 
must have been indigenous, for the Israelites to have been able to 
obtain it for their religious ceremonies. Its habit is to grow upon 
the most barren soil, or rocky precipice, or the side of a wall, and 
this is also essential ; for it is said, that Solomon knew all plants^ 
from the cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop that groweth on the 
wall. It has moreover always been supposed to be possessed of 
cleansing properties ; hence, probably, its selection in the cere- 
monies of purification, or its employment in these may have led to 
the supposition of its possessing the power of curing diseases like 
leprosy. Finally, the caper-plant is capable of yielding a stick to 
which the sponge might have been affixed, as we learn from St. 
John was done with the hyssop, when the sponge dipped in 
vinegar was raised to the lips of our Saviour. A combination of 
circumstances and some of them apparently too improbable to be 
united in one plant, I cannot believe to be accidental, and have 
therefore considered myself entitled to infer, what I hope I have 
now succeeded in proving to the satisfaction of others, that the 
Caper Plant is the Hyssop of Scripture. 

ON 



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.1849.] ( 277 ) 



ON INFERENTIAL REASONING FROM THE 
SILENCE OF SCRIPTURE/ 

The omissions of an umnspired writer may arise from one of two 
causes — either from his ignorance and consequent inability to record, 
or from knowledge coupled with an intention to suppress. To decide 
in any instance which of these is in operation will be difficult and 
our conclusions unsatisfactory. Now with respect to canonical 
Scripture, whatever be the precise degree in which we acknowledge 
its inspiration, the supposition of ignorance will have no part m 
explaining an omission. We are sure that each of the inspired 
wnters was empowered to deliver the whole of his message. 
When, however, we consider the completeness of the vatra ypa^ 
OsoTrvsuffTosy and acquiesce in the declaration of the 6th Article of 
the Established Church, that *Holy Scripture containeth all 
things necessary to salvation,' we are the more ready to acknow- 
ledge that whatsoever has been omitted has been suppressed 
intentionally. It is true that a particular book will omit many 
things, and the writings of an individual inspired penman will be 
in themselves incomplete. We cannot argue definitely fiK)m the 
silence of an isolated evangelist, because one gospel is evidently 
supplementary to another ; and as each intended nis record for a 
particular class of readers, it is only in considering the four com- 
bined that we can judge of the precise amount of revelation 
intended by the Spirit for the church at large. But let us con- 
sider the canon of Scripture as complete, as having one inspired 
source, though given at different periods and by various writers ; 
let us regard it as the onlv declaration of the will of God left on 
record for the guidance of mankind ; then must we be conscious 
that whatsoever is written is divinely revealed, whatsoever is not 
written is divinely suppressed. 

Hence we may regard the silence of Scripture objectively. 
It is an ascertained fact of no small importance when we can dis- 
tinctly aver that a given subject has been concealed from mankind. 
Such a discovery may be variously used, according to circum- 
stances : it may on the one hand stimulate inquiry, it may on the 
other command withdrawal ; it may in one case urge us to other 
sources of information, it may in the other tell us that research is 

* The rule of the Journal is to give the names of the writers of the articles 
contained in it. ^ But it is not thereby intended to exclude the contributions of 
writers who, as in the present instance, may have special reasons for withholding 
their names firom the public, although they are imparted to the Editor. 

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. u useless. 



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278 On Inferential Beasoning from [Oct. 

useless. Consequently it is wise to distinguish between the modes 
in which this silence is discernible. Of these, what we may term 
historical silence is the most obvious. It is easy to recognise a 
break in the chronicles of a nation. The interval between the 
histories of the Old Testament and the New is a conspicuous 
instance, and one that has excited the admirable labours of a 
Prideaux to supply the deficiency. The early history of Elijah is 
an instance of Scripture-silence which defies all curiosity. There 
is a further silence in Scripture which is less easy to deal with, 
because we have no opportunity of measuring its extent, and that 
is with reference to the * deep things of God.* As to our own 
essence and composition, we may carry our investigations to some 
distance, and be repaid with much reward for our toil ; but when 
analogy suggests a similar inquiry into the essence of Deity, 
Scripture meets us with blank silence. Equally futile is it to ask 
the origin of evil. That evil exists. Scripture everywhere tells us, 
but whence it came is an unsolved mystery. A little thought 
will multiply subjects on which we might a priori have expected 
a revelation, but if the revelation given is silent on these points, 
let this silence be pondered as an observed phenomenon. 

There is a further class of subjects on which Scripture is nearly 
silent, and does no more than suggest their existence. These 
necessarily require a treatment diferent from the topics we have 
before mentioned, inasmuch as there is not that absolute sup- 
pression which would quench inquiry, but rather the utterance of 
faint sounds to which the mind is apt prematurely to bestow a 
meaning. Among the obscurities of Scripture none have excited 
more attention than that which relates to the state of the soul 
immediately after death. This is a question which every bystander 
at the dying couch^ every mourner at the fiineral obsequies, will 
be prompted to ask. It is the inquiry of human nature at large 
as it stands at the mouth of the sepulchre. And what does 
Scripture reply ? Our Lord's answer to the dying thief, and one 
or two detached passages, just enable us to conceive of a locality 
termed ' Paradise,' or rather which we agree to call Hades (fiJ^y, 
(]uod videri nequit), which very name is alike a measure and an 
illustration of our knowledge of the subject. St. John's remark 
(1 John iii. 2) on the future state strongly bears on the subject of 
our present inquiry, as an instance of an inspired reference to the 
silence of Scripture. It has not yet been manifested (oStcj s(pavepciQfi 
t/ sa-oixsQat) what we shall be. tt is unnecessary to allude to other 
cases of what we may call the obscurities of Scripture ; let it suffice 
to glance at this possible classification — historical silence, doc- 
trinal silence, and partial silence. It is obvious that on subjects 
ranged under the two latter heads the greatest controversies have 

arisen. 



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1849.] the Silencs of Scripture. 279 

arisen. The mind naturally inclines to daim wisdom above that 
which is written, and where humfin invention has least of inspired 
support it is to be exi>ected that contrariety of opinion will be 
most prevalent. May it not be asked whetner a more diligent 
observatipn of the silence of Scripture will not t^id to narrow the 
polemical arena ? It is of no less importance to study human 
Ignorance than to enlarge the boundaries of human knowledge ; 
and if the inquirer ascertains the directions in which his efforts 
cease to be of use, be is at least spared much fruitless toil. Nature 
has her secrets as well as Scripture. ^ As thou knowest not what 
is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb 
of her that is with child ; even so thou knowest not the works of 
God who iiiaketh all ' (Eccles. xi. 5). But what has been found 
to be the successful mode of investigating nature ? A rigid ad- 
herence to experiment. The inductive philosophy has always sejt 
out from the most obvious facts. The clearest revelations of th^ 
created universe have been accepted as thegroundwcnrk, and hypo- 
thesis has been found of value duefly as suggestive of further ex- 
periment. Consequently a knowledge of the maJtarial world is no^ 
sought by niere speculation, but the phenomena which were most 
obscure nave ratner prompted a more accurate study of those 
within reach. And this prindple ought to be the ba^is of all 
inferential reasoning from the silence of Scripture, not to miultiply 
speculation, but to take a more comprehensive view of that which 
is known and understood. The obscurities of Scripture will thai 
be like the shades which the skilful painter majces use of to render 
more prominent the main features of his picture. The entire 
revelation will be more effectually investi|;ated if we can discover 
analogies among the tliipgs revealed which do not duu'acfterize 
the things Buppre^sed. 

The inquiry indicated in the heading of this article is one that 
does not admit of plenary treatment. In other words, no single 
dissertation can possiblv exhaust the subject. We can at best 
throw out suggestions which ma^ help the student in future biblical 
researches. The silence of Scnpture can only be. made palpable 
to inquiry in certain aspects. Take it in its entiirety, and our in- 
vestigation will be like a search into infinite spape, of which stars 
and fii^maments necessarily share but a millesimal part. We shall 
not therefore enumerate a series of negatives or attempt to classify 
the topics of which Scripture does not speaks but narrow our 
attention to those where, contrary to our expectation^ all mention 
is withheld. And our attention is frirther confined by the Scripture 
itself pointing in certain specific cases to the sUenqe which we now 
examine. Comparison of spiritual things with spiritual is, after 
all, the main canon of interpretation. The par^^bles i^ould be 

u 2 dark 



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280 On Inferential Reasoning from [Oct. 

dark sayings if the inspired solution of some did not suggest the 
mode of explaining the rest. The types would in like manner he 
mystical elements, material images and no more, if they were not 
irradiated hy the light of a ' better covenant/ 

The author of the epistle to the Hebrews (Heb. ix. 5) avows 
silence with respect to tne typical meaning of the fdmiture of the 
tabernacle. * Of which we cannot now speak {xara, (Aiqos) par-- 
ticularlt/,* He may imply no more than the inexpediency of 
occupying much space of the page of inspiration with a description 
of those mysterious emblems piece by piece. It would, however, 
rather appear that there was a veil purposely drawn over the 
whole subject, especially with reference to the cherubim of glory. 
Indeed the tabernacle altogether suggests greater mystery than 
any one thing beside described in the sacred narrative. It was 
itself the seat of the dirine glory, shining ifrom within with the 
unapproachable light of the Shekinah. its symbols partially re^ 
appear in St. John's Apocalyptic vision, and in the mystic por- 
traiture contained in Ezekiel s first chapter we find some traces of 
the same. Without endeavouring to give any explanation of their 
meaning, without attempting to follow interpreters in their specu- 
lations on these alviyfjuara, let it suflSce to remark that there was 
doubtless a deep reason why the inspired writer to the Hebrews 
should not * speak particularly ' concerning them. But this is not 
the only suppression of information respecting the tabernacle. 
When we reflect on the minuteness of the directions given to 
Bezaleel and Aholiab for its first construction, to which whole 
chapters are devoted in speaking xara fjuiqo^ of its various contents^ 
when we observe the careful marshalling of the Levites and priest3 
for the purpose of transporting it from place to place, when we 
notice the frequent mention of it in successive localities, and the 
various miracles wrought, as if by its particular presence, at the 
river Jordan, in the land of the Philistines, and at various times 
in that of Israel, we are tempted to ask what was its ultimate 
destiny ? Scripture tells us that it went to Babylon, and after 
that — is ailent. With regard to the end of the brazen serpent 
we have a revelation (2 Kings xxiv. 8), but in the case of the 
tabernacle all curiosity is disappointed. We hear of no Baby- 
lonish emerods, of no Chaldean Uzzah stricken with leprosy, no 
milch kiue undirected by man conveying it to the sacred land. 
And this is the more remarkable as the Jewish types were by no 
means istbolished, the tabernacle was divested of no portion of its 
mystic signification. Had the Levitical dispensation terminated 
at the Captivity, we should have expected no more to have heard 
of the tabernacle than we do in the Christian dispensation of the 
wood of the cross. . 

Now 



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1849.] the Silence of Scripture. 281 

Now the tabernacle and the silence of Scripture concerning it 
are closely mixed up with a parallel subject on which is observed 
a similar silence. This subject is summed up in the inquiry, — 
When did the Levitical system authoritatiyely cease ? Inspira- 
tion, speaking thirty years after our Lord's death, applies to the 
old covenant the mild expression that it is ' ready to vanish away' 
(hyyvs a(^a,-^i(riM\)^ Heb. viii. 13). The priests and Levites can 
never be said to have received the divine command to cease their 
ministrations until that period when the destruction of the temple 
and the dispersion of the nation came as equivalent to an inspired 
decree. The rent veil at the time of the crucifixion may sym- 
bolize to well-instructed Christians the ^ opening of the way into 
&e Holiest,' but to the priest it was an unexplained mystery. 
Shall we say that if he had received the teaching of the Messiah 
and learned the true significance of his atonement, he would have 
ceased to ofier bulls and goats ? If a Christian priest had ceased 
to minister, a Christian] apostle would have ceased to join as a 
worshipper. But here we are met by finding Peter and John 
(Acts iii. 1) at the temple at the hour of prayer joining in worship 
of which a slain lamb was the most conspicuous element Indeed 
throughout the subsequent history we look in vain for any relaxa- 
tion of Levitical ordinances as respects Hebrew converts to the 
faith. We may form our conjectures how we will on this fact, 
but in contrasting the revealed accounts of the be^nning and end- 
ing of the Jewish dispensation, we cannot but find an analogy in 
the minutely elaborate foreground of a painted landscape, as com- 
pared with the misty and far distant horizon, in which the blue of 
the ocean melts imperceptibly into the azure of the firmament. 

A silence not dissimilar to this is observable in the history of 
that portion of the Christian church which consisted mainly of 
Hebrews, and to whom the apostles of the circumcision were sent. 
St. Paul was emphatically tne apostle of the Gentiles, receiving 
for that object a distinct commission from our Lord, and being 
thus independent of the original apostolic college, the numbers of 
which, if we may so judge from the circumstances attending the 
election of Mattmas, appear to have received a definite limit. Now 
the remark has been often reiterated that the book which has 
received the name * Acts of the Apostles ' was rather a narrative 
of the acts of St. Paul. Consequently ' the twelve ' have laboured 
almost in silence, so far as regards any inspired narrative of their 
ministrations. When we make them the subject of inquiry, even 
when we ask no more than the scene of their toils or the place of 
their death, we are answered, with one exception only, by the feeble 
voice of tradition. The apostle of the Gentiles, on the other hand, 
speaks by his acts as well as by the recorded workings of his inner 

mind. 



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28% On Inferential Reasoning from [Oct. 

mind. Indeed, with the exception of David, he is more known to 
the Church than any other character portrayed by inspiration. 

This silence as regards the Jewish people and the termination 
of their polity, a silence which extends even to what may be 
termed the Hebrew-Christian Church, is at the least mysterious. 
To those who watch the present condition of that nation it will 
suggest much thought, especiallv taken in reference to those hopes 
to which, even in uieir exile^ they so fondly cling, and the pro- 
phecies concerning their future history with which Scripture 
abounds. But we may pass from a subject wherein we are not 
prepared to draw any definite conclusion from the silence to which 
it has be^n consdgned, to one on which the Scripture itself appears 
to give us some clue. The arguments regarding the priesthood 
of Melchizedec in the early portion of Heb. vii. are based on the 
silence of the inspired liarrative. To substantiate this position it 
will be necessary to prove that the expressions (ver. 8) * without 
fkther,' • without mother,' * without descent,' * having neither be- 
ginning of days nor end of life/ are deduced from the 'absence 
of any mention of these particulars in the book of Genesis. W^e 
must observe the conclusion at which the writer aims ; this was 
to remove Jewish prejudices that subsisted against a priesthood 
not formed on the basis of that of Aaron. ^The priesthood 
being changed, there is made of necessity a change also of the 
law' (ver. 12). Now a priest, according to the Jewish law, must 
be a lineal successor of Aaron, and, consequentiy, one of the tribe 
of Levi. The father must be A priest, his mother a woman taken 
in her virginity (Lev. xxi. 18), his genealogy must be clearly 
drawn out (Num. iv. 3), he must commence his ministrations at 
the age of thirty and bring them to a close at fifty. Now our 
Lord belonged to the tribe of Judah, and was of kingly, not of 
priestly descent. How then does the inspired writer overcome 
this diiSBculty? He brings a weapon to bear against the Jew 
which the latter cannot resist, viz., the language of inspiration ; 
he quotes from Ps. ex. a passage that would be acknowledged as 
applicable to Messiah (Ps. ex. 4), * Thou art a priest for ever 
after the order of Melchizedec* But is the priesthood of Mel- 
chieedec subjected to the same rules as that of Aaron ? If so, 
accurate mention will be made of the fatiier, the mother, the 
geneslogVf the ages of entering and of retiring from office. But 
no ; on all these points Scripture is silent. As regards any record 
of these particulars he is without father, wiUiout mother, without 
genealo^ {dyeveaXoynroi), having neither beginning of dajrs nor 
end of life. The necessity of a succession from Aaron is set 
aside by the fact that Melchizedec lived when Aaron was not yet 
bom. * If I may so say, Levi also, who receiveth tithes, paid 

tithes 



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1849.] the Silence of Scripture. 

tithes in Abraham. For he was yet in the loins of his father when 
Melchizedec met him' (Heb. vii. 9, 10). Consequently, the 
claim of our Lord to a priesthood independent of that of Aaron 
is fully established, and, what is important to our inquiry, the 
argument is based on the silence of Scripture, on the comparison 
of what the Jew might have expected with what God cnose to 
reveal. Alleged disqualification for the priestly office is overruled 
b^ a simple reference to the absence oi any Laws on which such 
disqualification could be established. 

This apostolic argument on the priesthood of Melchizedec 
strongly confirms what we shall always be able to deduce from 
other instances of scriptural silence, namely, the wise adaptaticm 
of the revealed message to the purpose for which it was given. 
The narrative in the book of Genesis taken alone would be an 
historical fragment to which we should be able to attach but little 
meaning. Until we listen to the prophecy of the 110th Psalm 
the existence of Melchizedec is a scriptural &ct the interest of 
which terminates in itself. The priesthood of the Messiah is, 
however, the most intensely important subject of revelation, and 
when we observe how narrowly every Jewish type was fulfilled, a 
particular deviation from Levitical ordinances oecomes a matter 
of close interest. We have a new priesthood, following that of 
Aaron in type, but not in direct succession ; its details are in 
general the same, but it has a fundam^ital difference in siting 
aside a genealogy from Aaron, and being constituted after the 
order of a royal priest to whom the progenitor of the Jewish 
nation paid tithes, and bowed to receive his blessing. The lapse 
of ages (or, to use the inspired expression) ^ the fulness of time,' 
brings the antitype before us. His priesthood is asserted, and in 
examining it as me fulfilment of prophecy we refer to \ke history ; 
then does the obscure mention of the royal priest of .old shine out, 
and what is necessary to observe, the &ct8 stated are exactly 
sufficient for the purpose and no more. We are first informed 
that such a personage had a real existence, and his freed<mi from 
Jewish enactments and ceremonial is inferred from the dignified 
^lence of the ini^red writer. 

A similar inference may be drawn from ijie obscure termination 
of the Jewish history to which we have alluded. We must regard 
the New Testament as addressed not merely to tjbe Jewish converts 
of the period, but to the Church living throughout the successive 
centuries of the ' times of the Gentiles.' The Levitical types, it 
is true, occupy a considerable portion of its sacred pages, tihereby 
showing that the Christian dispensation was a necessary develop* 
ment of that which preceded it. But as Gentile converts were 
from the first expressly freed from every Jewish ordinance, even from 

the 



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284 On Liferential Reascning from [Oct. 

the circumcision, it is clear that we have no more to do with that 
system, except to study its several parts as figures and shadows of 
tne true. This portraiture of Christian doctrine is, of course, 
independent of the history of the ordinances themselves, and has 
full prominence in the sacred page, whilst the obligations of the 
system upon the Jews as a nation are at present wrapped in unre- 
vealed mystery. In brief, the members of the Gentile Church 
may infer from the peculiar bearings of the several parts of the 
sacred canon the importance of those deep truths to which the 
Levitical ordinances afforded numerous types, while of the precise 
duration of the old system they are left in ignorance, enough 
however being recorded to show that they themselves are freed 
from its obligations. 

Bearing in view the principle just enundated, that the silence 
of Scripture everywhere gives prominence to that which is revealed, 
we shall find tms verified in the history of our Lord himself ; 
indeed, it is the peculiar glory of the Scriptures in both Testa- 
ments, old and new, that * they are they which testify of him/ 
Consequently, we shall find the voice of inspiration and its silence 
alike tending to this end ; yet, when we allude to the silence of 
Scripture in reference to our Lord, it will be necessary to point 
out the peculiar testimony which it bears to Him ; and here we 
discover that isolated portions of his life are set in strong relief. 
In no instance is a particular history more strikingly characterized 
by its abrupt contrasts of light and shade. Remembering that 
the manifestation of our Lord is the object of both Testaments ; 
that He is the theme of prophecy, the antitype of all Levitical 
emblems, the subject of devotional poetry ; that to his person and 
office the arguments of the apostolic epistles are directed — we are 
struck with the discovery that thirty years of his short life are 
passed over in almost total silence. How different from the 
ponderous biographies of modern times, wherein the thoughts and 
actions of men are laboriously recorded ; men whose influence 
was in some cases as transitory as it was feeble. An uninspired 
narrator would have been specially eager to have drawn the com- 
pletest portrait. But do we not infer from the very suppression of 
particulars the reserve of inspiration? None but a divinely 
guided author would have bequeathed to the Church the Gospels 
in their present form. But let us examine the revealed incidents 
in the biography, that a^ear like isolated rocks pierdng the 
dark waves of silence. They may be briefly enumerated in the 
order of time : first, we have our Lord's birth ; then circum- 
cision at the eighth day ; the presentation in the temple at the 
fortieth ; the adoration of the Magi ; the flight into Egypt, vrith 
the subsequent return to Nazareth ; an interval of at least eleven 

years ; 



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1849.] the Silence of Scripture. 285 

years ; then the visit to Jerusalem, when he was found discoursing 
with tie doctors in the temple ; then an interval of eighteen years; 
from which time the biography is comparatively mil and con- 
secutive. 

To these notices of our Lord's personal history we may add the 
two genealogies. Now all these points taken up by the inspired 
historian (with the exception of the adoration of the Magi) may 
be shown to have the closest connection with Levitical types and 
ordinances. Strictly speaking, our Lord's history substantially 
be^ns at his thirtieth year, we previous allusions being excep- 
tional to the general silence, and these we can separately account 
for. Observing the age at which our Lord commenced his 
ministry, we find that the revelation sets him prominently before 
us in his priestly office, and as the genealogies prove his descent 
from David, we have the typical conditions essential to the priest 
after the order of Melchizedec. As we follow the course of the 
inspired narrative we discern great prominence in all that pertains 
to his fulfilment of Jewish obligations. Whenever he is men- 
tioned as being at Jerusalem, it is almost in every case a feast 
that occasioned his presence. On the very eve of his sufferings 
he assembled his disciples to eat the Passover. No iota of the 
law was disregarded, but in every respect he fiilfilled all right- 
eousness. The incidents of his life, moreover, synchronized with 
the prescribed dates of Levitical ordinances, especially that which 
brought it to a close, whereby he was so strikingly manifested as 
•Christ our passover.' Viewing the inspired history from the 
commencement of his ministry as relating so distinctly to the 
parallel with Levitical ordinances, we turn to the breaks in the 
silence in which his early history is buried, and this principle is 
found to explain them. The infant of the early chapters of St. 
Luke is the future priest, the member of the house of Israel. 
How accurately is his parentage recorded I what careful proofs 
of the purity of his virgin-mother ! The future priest must be 
circumcised on the eighth day ; he must be presented in the temple 
on the fortieth, and the ofierings made as prescribed by the law 
of Moses. The descent into Egypt perfected the typical con- 
nection of our Lord with the Jewish nation, so as to make the 
prophecy equally applicable to both : ' Out of Egypt have I 
called my Son '^ (Uosea xi. 1). Our Lord's ^r«^ appearance at a 

*» Mr. Greswell {Dissertations on a Harmony of the Gospels, vol. i. p. 338) shows 
with much probability that our Lord was a year old when he left Egypt ; that after 
a residence in that country of 215 days, corresponding to the years of Israelitish 
bondage, he set out for the land of his birth on the feast of the Passover, thus accu- 
rately maintaining the parallel with the series of events to which allusion is made 
in this prophecy. In whatever degree this calculation may be depended upon, it 
confirms the reason alleged ft>r a break in the silence observed by the inspired 



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286 On Inferential ReatOTdng from [Oct. 

paschal-feast is the Femainin^ break in the silence which we have 
to notice. This also has a distinct connection with his keeping of 
the whole law, for the time of life at which he is reported to have 
arrived at the period in question was a year short of the age at 
which male Israelites were privileged to commence the observance 
of the festival.® We have examined the exceptions to the blank in 
the history of onr Lord corresponding to the first thirty years of 
his life ; and in every case (excepting the adoration of the Masi, 
which is a kind of presage of his royal character) discern in tibe 
inspired narrative a jealous silence on every incident that does 
not tend directiy to prove his accurate fulfilment of all types 
essential to his priestly office. This leads at once to the inference 
that the peculiar character in which our Lord ofiered an atone- 
ment for sin, and became an instructor of the world, was that 
which inspiration aims at making prominent. We are bidden to 
contemplate not so much the exalted personage, not so much the 
object of worldly admiration, but the instructor of mankind. If 
he works a miracle, it is to draw attention to his teaching ; when 
he teaches, it is to elevate those who give heed. And uiis infe-* 
rence extends to the whole canon of inspiration, and adequately 
accounts for silence on all other topics, uiat the moral perfecting 
of the race, or tg speak scripturally, the restoration of smful man 
to the divine image and favour, is the object sought in every 
page. Moral and spiritual advancement must be a pre-requisite 
to further enlightenment of mind. ^ I have yet many things to 
say unto you,' observed our Lord to his disciples during the last 
days of his earthly sojourn, ^ but ye cannot bear them now ' (John 
xvi. 12). And may not this be said of the Church even yet ? 
The subjoined promise awaits a future ploiary fulfilment. When 
He the Spirit of Truth is come he shall guide you into all truth 
(ver. 13), for the revelations expressed in terms so comprehensive 
must extend to infinity in amount and require eternity for their 
development 

Reason and Scripture alike bid us wait for future communica- 
tions of knowledge. No one has yet discovered limits to the 
inherent powers of the human mind. Moral obliquity diverts its 
operations, physical infirmity retards them, but its own pure 
essence demands only free scope that it may fulfil the original 

^ ' That this was the purpose for which onr Lord was now taken up, viz., not to 
celebrate the Passover, but to appear, as one of the male Israelites, at a stated time 
of snch appearing before the Lord — to be made, in short, a disciple of the Law, and 
to undergo a ceremony something like to our confirmation — is presumptiyely cer- 
tain even from what is recorded of his mode of employment in the temple, when he 
was found sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them and asking them 
questions ; and astonishing those who heard him by his understanding and answers/ 
— Greswellf vol. i. p. 343. 

design 



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1849.] the Silence of Scripture. 287 

design of its creation. The anticipation of such a state com- 
mends itself to reason, and is confirmed by revelation. And 
when tins state shall open upon us, we may well conceive that things 
hitherto unrevealed snail be made plain. In short, the silence of 
Scripture suggests the subjects of future revelations. And here 
anotiber question occurs to us, whether the soul's advancement 
will not be regulated by distinct progressive steps. The world 
has hitherto witnessed a succession of dispensations in which the 
light has struggled from dawn towards the culminating point of 
noon. Prophets and kings in one dispensation have desired to 
see things seen by fishermen in the next. The least in the new 
kingdom was greater than the greatest prcqdiet of the preceding. 
The same order may still be observed, and what it just enters 
into the heart to conceive at one period, diall be palpable to sight 
and hearing at one still future. Our highest mental pleasures 
depend on we previous awakening of inquiry. The mind prepares 
its storehouse for the admissicm of new treasure. Who has not 
counted the strata in some precipitous cliff and pcmdered over the 
successive creative dispensations thereby indicated ; each one of 
them implying the lapse of millenniums ? Creative agency has been 
ceaselessly at work, and the wondrous timepiece that has recorded 
its operations is literally graven with pen of iron upon the rock. 
This analogy we safely apply to the moral dispensations of the 
past ; we hazard the c(Hijecture of its applicability to those of the 
future. 

We have already observed that no dksertation can exhaust tiie 
subject now under inquiry. It is not easy to bring one so indefinite 
under distinct investigation. Consequentiy, it is not less difiicult 
to lay down canons of interpretation. [But the foregoing dis- 
cussions of particular instances of Scripture-silence have so fistr 
embodied principles, that we may venture to enunciate them 
without elevating them to the rank of dii^inct rules. 

I. When ffllence is observed on any given subject, ascertain 
whether it is absolute or partial. 

n. Is the subject one wherein analogy would have led us to 
expect a revelation ? 

III. The &ct of suppression being ascertained, how does it 
bear upon truths already known ? 

In this state we leave the inquiry, claiming no more than to 
have suggested certain ' aids to reflection ' to those who love to 
penetrate the surface of biblical study, and dig deep into its 
mines ; to those who are prepared to infer from the silence of 
Scripture the definite scope of revelation, and to discern the pe- 
culiar value set upon the truths revealed by Him who is their 



author. 



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288 PascaTs Conception of the [Oct.; 



PASCAL'S CONCEPTION OF THE PECULIAR 
ESSENCE OF CHRISTIANITY 

IN RELATION TO PHILOSOPHY IN GENERAL AND THE COMMON 
NATURE OF THE RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS. 

A Lecture, by Dr. Aug. Neandeb. 

Translated from the German by the Rev. J. Tcixoch. 

In our former lecture,* on Pascal, we considered his views in so 
far as th^ related to the philosophy of religion, or the general 
nature of the religious consciousness. We did not enter upon 
his view of the special nature or essence of Christianity. We will 
now, however, do this, while we at the same time follow out the 
train of reflection in our former lecture. And, in doing so, it will 
be equally our aim to discriminate between the great truths in 
Pascal's system, available for all ages, and his own special Jan- 
senistic conception of them, with which, as we formerly pointed 
out, they have no essential connection. 

It is Pascal's great merit, as we explained in our first lecture, 
to have seen more profoundly and defined more precisely than 
any other the original ground of diflerence between the religious 
and every other species of apprehension.** The clear conception 
of this forms the only safeguard alike against scepticism and dog- 
matism, scholasticism and rationalism. And it is especially im- 
portant for our age to hold it firmly, when, on the one hand, the 
peculiar province of religion is like to be sacrificed to a one sided 
Intellectualism, which would swallow up everything, and on the 
other, the distinction between a mere creed, however systematic 
and clearly expressed, and the essence of religious faith and life, 
threatens to be always placed more in the back ground. 

Pascal presupposes two factors as necessary to religious appre- 
hension :« the communication of God with the spirit of man or 
revelation, and the corresponding inward susceptibility, or divine 

» A translation of this lecture was inserted in No. VI. of the Journal of Sacred 
Literature. 

^ Den genetischen process, wodurch, und die eigerUhumliche Art wie das Erkennen 
gdttlicher ZHnge, das religiose Erkennen sick von anderen Arten der Erkenntniss 
unterschiedet, 

'^ * Erkennen,* as in the previous sentence, which is used indiscriminately 
throughout the lecture with * erkenntniss,' and would perhaps be more strictly 
rendered * cognition.' 

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1849.] peculiar Essence of Christianity. 289 

principle in man, which, bursting its bonds, must resign itself to 
the revelation of its great Author. The religious disposition can 
only exist where this divine principle in man susceptibly unfolds 
itself to God. This holds true of all religious apprehension, 
whether produced through the divine revelation in nature or in 
Christianity. It is everywhere the same law which regulates 
revelation, and the manner in which it takes place is expressly 
conditioned just to excite in man the divine principle, without 
which this revelation cannot be apprehended. All depends upon 
the will, which determines the human disposition either to God or 
to the world. Such a thing as a compulsory revelation, a demon- 
strable system of truth, capable of being sensibly apprehended and 
seized upon equally by all through the medium of the under- 
standing or reason, were neither possible nor desirable. All has 
been and is designed to lay hold of the free susceptibility of the 
human spirit — the motive power of the will ;^ and thus it is that 
what constitutes revelation to one who yields with susceptible sense 
to the religious disposition is, and in fact must be, a cause of 
stumbling to another in whom this disposition is wanting, and who 
is ruled only by*a worldly bias. What excites faith in the one 
will only confirm unbelief in the other. Such is the necessary 
process of development — dependent entirely upon ethical forces — 
of religious conviction. And just thus is there, in all the revelations 
of God, as well in nature and history generally, as in the special 
revelation of His grace in Christianity, such a mixture of light 
and darkness, of that which on the one hand invites to faith, and 
on the other ministers to doubt ; everywhere God revealing and 
yet concealing himself — revealing himself to the susceptible, con- 
cealing himself from the unsusceptible — all with a view to this 
ethical process of development of faith, which, going out from the 
inmost soul, is determined by the very nature of the will. Pascal, 
it is true, from his Jansenistic point of view brings here into appli- 
cation the opposition of the predestinated and non-predestinated, 
and would lead back the distinction between them to God himself. 
But this is something by no means essentially connected with the 
great truth unfolded by him. There ever remains the same 
antagonism in the ground-inclination of men, with a view to which 
all revelation is given, although it may not be true, with Pascal, 
that this opposition is to be traced to a divine decree as its cause. 
The great law which Pascal applies to the development process of 
the religious apprehension is, in fact, just that expressed in the 
words of Christ, ' He that has, to him shall be given.' 

We will now, in confirmation of what we have said, adduce 

d Den Uebel der WUlensrichtung. 

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290 PoicaVs Ckmception of the [Oct- 

some of Pascal's luminoiis statements. In one of his letters of 
date 1648, for the first time published by Faugere, be gives the 
first expression to these views. * We must,' he says, * regard our- 
selves as criminals whose prison is quite filled with representation3 
of tlieir deliv^er, and with the requisite directions for obtaining 
their fireedom. But it must be confessed that we cannot read 
these sacred symbols without a supematiu'al light; for as all 
things speak of God to those who know Him, and reveal Him to 
those who love Him, these very things yet tend to obscure Him 
from those who do not know Him.' (i. 9.) And so also ui another 
lettOT of the year 1656 (i. 38),«— *If God continuallv revealed 
himself to men faith could have no value, as we could not help 
believing ; and, if He never revealed himself, there could hardly 
be such a thing as faith.' This he applies to nature, as a veil 
under which G(^ conceals, and yet reveals himself; and likewise 
also to the letter of Holy Scripture as a similar veil. ^ Thus the 
Jews,' he says, ^by adnerinj; to the letter were milled into 
unbelief. And, even so, the infidel, resting in the mere ccwotem- 
plation of natural effects fails to recognize t£e great creative cause 
of all. The Jews, likewise^ thus saw in Christ a mere man, with- 
out recognizing the higher nature in Him.' ..... ^ All things 
hide a mystery. All are a veil which conceal God — the Christian 
must recognize Him in all.' * So also,' he sajrs in his Thougkt$ 
(ii. 113), ' I wonder much at the bddness with which some eiiT 
deavour to demcHistrate to the unbelieving the existence of God 
from the works of nature. I would not so much wonder at this 
attempt if they addressed themselves to the believing ; f(»* to them, 
who have a livmg faith in the heart, everything that is manifestly 
appears as the work of the God whom they adtwe. But it is very 
differ^t with those in whom this living li^t is extinct, and sought 
to be revived — those destitute of faith and grace, who, while 
searching with all their light,^ all they see in nature, whieb might 
lead them to the knowledge of God, yet only find obscurity and 
darkness ; to say to such that they have only to behold the least 
of the things which surround them and they will find God revealed 
therein, and, as at once a proof of this great and important truth, 
to point to the course of tne moon or the planets, and profess i^ 
have tbi;^ accomplished its demonstration, is truly to am>rd them 
ground for believing that the evidences of our religion are very 

* It is the letter from -which this and the immediately succeeding quotation are 
taken, that I have referred to in the note at the end of the article as so strangely 
omitted in the translation of PascaFs miscellaneous writings just published l^ 
JUmgman. 

' * De toute leur lumifere/ meaning, of course, all their natural powers of under- 
standing, in contradistinction to that divine and living intuition of the truth which 
they want 

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1849.] peculiar Essence of Christianity. 291 

weak, and I am assured firom reason and experience that nothing 
is more fitted to inspire them with contempt of these evidences. 
This is not the manner in which Scripture speaks, which knows 
better the things that are of God. It says, on the very contrary, 
that God is a hidden God, and that since the corruption of human 
nature. He has left man in a state of blindness, from which he can 
only be delivered by Jesus Christ, whose words are, * No one 
knoweth the Father save the Son, and He to whomsoever the Son 
will reveal Him.' This is what tibe Scripture means when it says, 
in so many places, that they who seek Grod find Him. People do 
not speak thus of that light, which is as the day at full noon. 
They do not say, that they who seek daylight at full noon, or 
water in the sea will find them. And it is obviously therefore 
not evidence of this sort which discovers God in nature/ And 
elsewhere he says (ii. 155), * It is not true that all things reveal 
God, and it is no more true that all things conceal Him. But it 
is true both that God hides himself from those who tempt Him, 
and discovers himself to those who seek Him. For men are at 
the same time unworthy of God, and capable of attaining this 
knowledge, unworthy by reason of their corruption, capable, by 
reason of their primitive nature.' In a similar manner ne speaks 
of the revelation of God in Christ Jesus (iL 161) : * He would at 
once discover himself to those who seek Mim with the whole heart, 
and hide himself from those who fly from Him with all their heart. 
He has adapted this revelation, so as to give indications, visible 
enough to uiose who seek Him, but obscure to those who do not 
seek Him. There is plenty of light for all who desire to see, but 
sufficient darkness for all who are of an opposite wish.' * Had 
Jesus Christ,' he savs farther, (ii. 282) only come * for a sanctu- 
ary,' then it would have been an easy task to convince the infidel, 
for all Scripture and all things would have tended thereto. Had 
Jesus Christ, on the other hand, only come to blind, his whole 
ministry would have been confused and unintelligible, and there 
could have been no means of convincing the unbelieving. But as 
he has come, in the words of Isaiah, equally ' for a sanctuary and 
a stone of stumbling,' we have no means of forcibly convincing 
the unbelieving, and they, on the other hand, have no power of 
seducing us ; but even thereby may we convince them, just by 
admitting that there is no force of conviction either one way or 
the oilier in the whole ministry of Christ.' In these last words of 
Pascal we must, in the manner already indicated, distinguish the 
Jansenistic exaggeration from the truth lying at the root, and 
from the paradox of the expression, unfold the true import of the 
thought. Pascal would by no means say, that the contemplation 
of the life of Christ does not necessarily tend to excite faitn, but, 

only; 



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292 Pascals Conception of the [Oct. 

only, that there is no objectire force of demonstration, arising out 
of that life for every reason, so that the infidel, from his own 
stand-point, is right enough, if he desiderates such a kind of 
proof. Here, as everywhere, it is the same process of God re- 
vealing himself, and yet concealing himself, which Pascal has 
already described with reference to the diflerent dispositions of 
men. The right application of this truth, however, he is prevented 
from apprehending by his Jansenistic views, which woula infer an 
absolute separation, appointed by God himself, and excluding all 
mediation, between the believing and unbelieving. 

The great end of the divine plan of human education, through 
that mixture of light and darkness in the revelation of God, of 
which we have been speaking, has been also pointed out by Pas- 
cal. ' God,' he says (ii. 158), * will rather move the will than 
the intellect. Perfect clearness would serve the one but injure 
the other.' Through the will struggling onwards through all 
doubt, the intellect, weaning itself from the world, must resign 
itself to God, though the denial of self and the world, would 
he say, man must meet God in his revelation. Self-humiliation 
can alone lead to faith — faith, without perfect knowledge, ' hum- 
bling,' as Pascal says, * the proud reason.' 

Pascal teaches us to recognize, in the manner in which God thus 
reveals himself, and excites to faith, by what means alone we 
should endeavour to produce religious conviction in others. He 
marks out the limits of such an endeavour, and, important as such 
views ai'e, for the right comprehension of all divine revelation, and 
for all religious instruction and education, they are equalljr so 
for the apologetic interest, the true apologetic method. The diffi- 
culties of Holy Scripture, the mixture of the divine and human in 
it, will no more perplex any, who rightly apprehend these views, 
— but will appear as something designed and appointed by God, as 
essential to the process of development of the reUgious con- 
sciousness. With truth may Pascal, in this view, adduce the 
fact that what strengthens the infidel in his unbelief, only sheds 
new Ught upon the faith of the believer. Apologetics, dogmatics, 
exegesis, and biblical history will thus learn not to ignore, but 
openly to recognize scriptural difficulties, and to consider them, 
with every other thing, as necessary to the exercise of faith. A 
happy freedom, and assurance of faith will thus arise. 

Several important consequences from his views occur to Pascal 
in relation to the subjective nature of the process of development 
of the religious conviction. From what has been said concerning 
its origin,^ it follows that this conviction differs no less from any 
other species of conviction and apprehension in its continued deve^ 
lopmeTd and preservation. While other species of knowledge of a 

merely 



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1849.] peculiar Essence of Christianity. 293^ 

merely intellectual nature once acquired, become the inalienable 
property of the soul, it is, on the contrary, necessary for the pre- 
servation of whatever has once become the subject of religious 
conviction, that the two factors from which it orisinally took its 
rise, always continue to co-operate — the same divine revelation, 
ou the one hand, and the same humble resignation of the human 
will, on the other. The same spiritual elevation, the same divine 
life, by which the truth was at first implanted, are requisite to 
sustain and propagate it in the soul. In one of the letterspub- 
lished for the first time by Faugere, Pascal says (i. 13), * When 
you say that it is unnecessary to repeat to us these things because 
we know them already, I fear that you do not sufficiently appre- 
hend the difference between the things of which you speak, and 
more ordinary matters ; for, without doubt, it is enougn to have 
once learned the latter, and retained them, in order to need no 
more instruction in them ; but not so with the former. To have 
once apprehended and know thejn^ in a right way, that is to say, 
by the inward motion of the Divine spirit, is by no means sufficient 
to preserve their know.ledge in a like manner, even if we should 
retain their recollection. We may indeed commit to memoir, and 
retain an epistle of St. Paul, quite as easily as a book of Virgil : 
but the knowledge thus acquired, and its preservation, are a mere 
effort of memory ; while, in order to understand that sacred lan- 
guage which is hidden and strange to those to whom heaven is so, 
it is necessary that the same grace which could alone impart the 
first intelligence, continue to revive and quicken it so that it may 
unceasingly arise in the heart of the believer. * Always new 
efforts,' he afterwards says, * are necessary to acquire this con- 
tinual renovation of soul ; for the old grace cannot be retained, 
unless by the acquisition of new. Otherwise we will only lose 
what we thought to retain, in the same way as those who would 
enclose the light, in fact shut in only the darkness. Therefore 
should, we be vigilant to purify, unceasingly, our inward nature 
which is prone, continually, to contract new defilements, while 
retaining the old, since without this continual renewal we are not 
fitted to receive that ' new wine ' which refuses to be put into ' old 
bottles.' As new truths, according to Pascal, always require for 
their spiritual preservation the same new life, so, b^ virtue of tlus 
new life they produce a new speech^ which, again, is only intelli- 
gible through this higher life. He calls this, in one of his letters 
(i. 40), ' mat new speech which is usually the fruit of a new 
heart. Jesus Christ, in the Gospel, has given this as the mark, 
by which those who have faith shall be known, that they speak a 
new language, and, in fact, the renewal of the thought and 
desires ever leads to that of the speech.' We here see how 
VOL. IV.— NO. VIII. X Pascal, 



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294 PascaVs Conception of the [Oct. 

Pascal, reasoning from within, is led outwards to the right appre- 
hension of the idea of the gift of language. 

It is evident, how important what is here said by Pascal is, to 
enable us to understand aright the fluctuations in the development 
of the religious conviction, especially in times when scepticism finds 
much excitement and sympathy in the prevailing intellectual at- 
mosphere — and, moreover, what an important warning it furnishes 
to those who, by earnest struggle, have attained to a religious 
conviction, that they watch closely over themselves that they may 
be protected from the contact of a grasping spirit of doubt and 
denial. It is farther evident how far it avails to remove or soften 
many doubts regarding the Gospel history which have been re- 
cently advanced, for example, in reference to the discrepancies 
about John the Baptist. And, no less, may it be employed with 
advantage to define the right relation of the ideas of revelation 
and inspiration to one another. 

From this point of view, Pascal has further recognized how im- 

Eortant it is, for the preservation of the religious conviction, to 
ave the divine and the natural united as a matter of custom, that 
the conviction having once arisen in a higher light, and been ap- 
propriated by an enlightened reason, may form into a natural 
instinct an element of custom. The reaction of the natural man 
against the divine principle will thus be softened, for while the 
former is held in check, the higher life out of which alone divine 
truth can be understood, is formed by custom into a second nature. 
Thus he expresses himself, while speaking of the relation of these 
three factors to one another (ii. 174). We must not misunderstand 
ourselves. We are sensual,* as well as intellectual beings, and 
therefore demonstration is, by no means, the only instrument of 
producing conviction within us. Demonstration only convinces the 
intellect. Custom affords our strongest and most available proofi. 
It inclines the sense which unconsciously influences the mind. 
Who has demonstrated, for example, that there will be to-morrow, 
and that we will die, and yet what things are more universally 
believed. It is custom alone which convinces us of such facts, . . . 
and to custom it is specially necessary to have recourse, when the 
mind has once apprehended where the truth lies, in order fully 
to imbue ourselves with it, and deepen that belief which is ever so 
apt to escape us. For we cannot always have the proofs pre- 
sent to our mind. We must, therefore, acquire this more simple 

8 Pascal here uses the term * sentiment' as frequently, when he means to express 
the same thing, with reference to the Cartesian view of the animal creation accepted 
by him. The same remark, however, which we have made regarding his peculiar 
Jansenistic or Catholic views, here equally applies in reference to his Cartesianism. 
The fundamental truth expressed stands in no essential connection with it 

mode 



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1849.] peculiar Essence of Christianity. :296 

mode of belief, that, arising from custom, which, without violence, 
without art, or argument, leads us to believe things, and inclines 
all our faculties to their belief, so that it becomes to us a second 
nature. To believe only, by the force of intellectual conviction, 
and while the sense is otherwise inclined, will avail little. It is 
necessary to unite both elements — the mind convinced by reasons, 
which, on examination, were once seen to be quite satisfactory, 
and the sense by custom preventing it from inclining in a contrary 
direction. 'The reason,' says he further (li. 176), 'acts slowly, 
and on so many grounds and principles which must always be pre- 
sent to it, that it is every moment apt to shp and get confused, 
from not having all its principles before it. Feeling^ operates 
quite differently. It acts, in a moment, and is always ready to 
act. We must, therefore, make our faith a matter of feelinff. 
Otherwise it will be always fluctuating.' And again (ii. 177), 
'there are three means to faith — reason, custom, and inspiration. . . 
We must open our mind to arguments — confirm ourselves therein 
by custom^ but render ourselves by humiliation susceptible to in- 
spirations.* To this connection belongs that passage of Pascal 
•which has given occasion to so many reproaches against him, and 
which, having been excluded from tne older edition of the 
' Thoughts,' on account of the paradoxical and seemingly offensive 
form of its expression, has been for the first time published in 
its complete form by Faugere (ii, 168). ' You would,' he says, 
* attain to faith, and you know not the way. You would cure 
yourself of unbelief, and you know not the means : learn of those 
who were once as you are, and with whom faith is now all in all. 
There are, be assured, those who know the way which you would 
follow, and have been cured of the evil from which you would be 
delivered. Follow tliem. Do as they have begun to do. Act 
as if you believed. Sprinkle holy water. Say mass, and, natu- 
rally, as it were, will this lead you to faith and quiet you.'* 
Undoubtedly if these words are separated from the connection of 
thought in which they occur, they might serve to promote the 
dangerous error, that all that was necessary for believing was 
to stupify the reason. But it is to be carefully taken notice 
that Pascal is here speaking in opposition to a one-sided in- 
tellectual tendency, which was just one form of the prevailing 
sensationalism of his day, and no less opposed than other forms 
of it to that child-like resignation to the divine, without which 
there can be no &,ith. He is speaking, we say, in opposition to 
this over-curious, ever-reasoning disposition, wmch keeps u^/rom 
.resigning ourselves to intuitive impressions. Against such a dis- 

^ * Le sentiment.' • 

* * Natareliement mSme cela toos feta croire et yous ab^tira.*' 

X 2 position, 



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296 PascaTs Conception of the [Oct. 

position, always considering, never determining, Pascal adduces 
such an aMtir as advantageous for the religious conviction. The 
over-curious logical spirit must give way to the living intuition. 
It is just as when St. ^aul, in allusion to a reason, refusing in its 
darkened wisdom to come to the truth, desii'es that the wise man 
may become a fool, in order that he may attain to true wisdom. 
One must live in religion — this is what Pascal means. When 
Aristotle maiotains against Socrates and Plato, who call virtue a 
science, that this is indeed one view of it, but by no means all ; it 
being further necessary, through the continuous direction of the 
will, to produce an e^if , and through this bI^is to unite the aXoyov in 
the soul with the (fpo^nisis — he expresses, in fact, just the same 
truth which Pascal here applies to the religious life. 

Pascal is far from ascribing too much to the power of custom — 
the formation of the E^if . He is well aware that, in the same way, 
the false and bad may acquire influence over reason. ' Custom it 
is,' he says (ii. 175), * which makes so many Christians. The 
same thing makes Turks, pagans, tradesmen, soldiers,' &c. He 
only desires, in a similar manner, that what has been at first re- 
ceived, through a divine movement of the disposition, and en* 
lishtenment of the reason, should become a thing of the whole 
life. From the Christianity produced by these three combined 
forces, he distinguishes the Christianity of mere habit, which 
rests on no other foundation than that on which false religion 
equally rests, and is, therefore, readily shattered by the re- 
action of awakened thought and doubt. And, accordingly, we 
find this remarkable statement (i. 228). * People, in general, 
have the power of not thinking of that of which they do not wish 
to think.' ^ Do not think only of the passages which relate to the 
Messiah,' said the Jew to his son. It is the same often with our- 
selves ; and thus, in the case of many, are false religions perpetu- 
ated, and even the true one also. JBut there are those who have 
not the power to prevent themselves from thinking, but who, in 
fact, only think the more, the more they are forbidden to do so. 
These persons dismiss false religions, and no less the true, if they 
do not find their evidences solid.' Pascal here, at length indi- 
cates a stand-point, which, to the awakened freedom of thought 
and the excitement of scepticism, may form a point of transition 
from a mere unconscious Christianity of custom, either to unbelief 
or to a conscious living Christianity. 

As we have seen, Pascal teaches that God must have revealed 
Hin^ielf to man in his inner being before he is able to find a divine 
revelation in all around him. All is designed to call forth in man 
at once a sense of his estrangement from God, and a desire after 
Him, in order that he may strive after reunion with Him, which 

he 



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1849.] peculiar Essence of Christianity. 297 

he can only obtain in Christ. Thus, that which prevents man 
finding God in nature is just a proof of the great trutn presupposed 
by Christianity, a pointing as it were to Christ, in whom alone man 
can find both the practical and theoretical solution of all the pro- 
blems of his own being, as of all existence. The longing after the 
highest good, kindled in man, is that which leads to Christ. * It 
is well,' says Pascal (ii. 96), * to be wearied in the vain search after 
the true good, that we may stretch out our arms to the Redeemer.* 
Whoever rests m the contemplation of nature is either led to the 
consequent denial of all supematuralism, in other words, to atheism, 
or he reaches only the 'recognition of a ^eat, powerful, and 
eternal first existence,' as Pascal defines Deism, an existence 
altogether external to man, separated from him by an infinite cap, 
without any living communion with, or personal relation to, nim 
whatever, and thus afibrding the very least possible gratification to 
the religious feeling ; which, on the contrary, desiderates a living 
personal relation to God, an intimate communion with Him, 
without which man is soon torn from the weak tie which, in Deishi,- 
may still unite him with the supernatural. The deep principle in 
man which urges him to recognize in Nature the revelation of an 
overruling God is by no means met and satisfied by such a mere 
external relation to Him. Pascal says (ii. 117), ' All who, abiding 
by nature, seek God without Christ either find no light which 
satisfies them, or make a religion for themselves without a 
mediator, and then fall either into atheism or deism — two things 
which the Christian religion almost equally abhors.' The con- 
templation of himself and of the world, Pascal means, should lead 
man to Christ as hi& Redeemer, and through Christ will he then 
learn to recognize and understand God everywhere. ' If the world 
existed,' he says in the same place, 'just for the purpose of leading 
man to the knowledge of God, his divinity would shine forth on all 
sides incontestably ; but as the world exists oiAy by and for Christ, 
and in order to lead men to the knowledge of their corruption, and 
their consequent need of redemption, so all testifies clearly of these 
two facts. The phenomena of Nature evince neither an entire 
exclusion nor a manifest presence of the Deity, but the presence 
of a God who yet conceals Himself. All bears this impress.' 
And so Pascal distinguishes between such a Deism and Christian 
Theism. 'The God of the Christian,' he says (ii. 116), 'is not 
merely the Author of geometrical truths and of elemental order, 
for this is the mere paganish view of the Deity ; He is not merely 
the supreme Disposer of the lives and goods of men in order to 
give a happy succession of years to those who worship Him, for 
this is only the Jewish view ; but the God of Abraham, of Isaac, 
and of Jacob, the God of the Christian, is a God of love and of 

consolation ; 



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298 PascaFs Conception of the [Oct. 

coDsolaiion ; a God who fills the heart and the soul which He pos- 
sesses, who makes his people at once feel their own misery and His 
infinite compassion ; who unites Himself with their very innermost 
being, replenishing it with humility, joy, confidence, and love, and 
rendering them incapable of desiring any other end but Himself.' 
* The God of the Christian,' he further says (ii. 354), * is a God 
who makes the soul feel that He is its only good ; that all its 
peace is in Him ; that its only blessedness can be in loving Him, 
and who makes it at the same time abhor the obstacles which 
hinder it from loving Him with all its strength. Self-love and all 
lust which thus hinders it are insupportable to it. This gracious 
God makes it feel that such self-love is rooted in it, and that He 
himself can alone cure it.' With reference to the view which rests 
on the mere recognition of an absolute Cause, he says (ii. 115), 
on the contrary, ^Should a man be merely convinced that the 
relations of number are spiritual and eternal truths depending on 
a first Truth in whom they subsist, which he calls God, I would 
not consider him near salvation.' 

According to Pascal, then, the true knowledge of God and of 
ourselves are intimately conjoined, so that man may become con- 
scious at once of his originally kindred relation with God, and his 
estrangement from Him, and so may learn the means by which He 
may attain to a true knowledge of God, and communion with Him. 
The medium of both is the knowledge of Christ, as Him, through 
whom man can alone be freed from a state of divine estrangement, 
and again brought to find in God his highest good. Without 
Christ there can only be the two opposite extremes, self-exultation 
or despair. * Christianity,' says Pascal (ii. 35, 36), * equally 
teaches man these two truths — that there is a God whom he is 
capable of knowing, and of whom he is yet, from the corruption of 
his nature, unworSiy. It is equally important for him to under- 
stand both these points. It is alike dangerous for man to know 
God without knowing his misery, or to know his misery without 
knowing the Redeemer, who alone can deliver him from it. To 
know only one of these points constitutes either the pride of the 
philosophers who have known God without knowing their misery, 
or the despair of the atheists, who know their misery without 
knowing a Kedeemer. And as it is thus equally necessary for man 
to know both these points, so it equally pleases God to make them 
known. This the Christian reUgion does. In this it consists. If 
we examine from this point of view the whole order of the world, 
we will see how all things serve to establish these two main points 
of that religion.' And so likewise, he says Hi. 315), * The know- 
ledge of God, without the knowledge of our misery, produces pride ; 
the knowledge of our misery without the knowledge of God pro- 
duces 



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1849.] peculiar Essence of Christianity. 299 

duces despair ; the knowledge of Christ is the medium whereby 
we at once find God and oiu* misery.' ... * In Christ have we a 
God whom we approach without pride, and before whom we bow 
without despair. The perfect reconcilement in Christianity of 
thesd opposite tendencies, which are to be found in human nature, 
is the ^eat internal evidence of its truth. So Pascal says (ii. 314), 
* In their incapacity to discover the whole truth, men have either 
only recognized the dignity of human nature or its corruption. 
They have failed to see botn together. And according as the one 
or other of these views have swayed them — ^as they have recognized 
only the excellence or the corruption of human nature, they have 
plunged into pride or despair. And hence the divers sects of the 
Stoics and Epicureans, the Dogmatists and Academicians. ' Chris- 
tianity,' he says (ii. 136), ' can alone reconcile these discrepancies — 
alone cure both evils, pride and despair — ^not by expelling the one 
by the other according to the wisdom of this world, but by expelling 
both the one and the other by the simplicity of the Gfospel. For 
it teaches the just that while it elevates them even to be partakers 
of the' divine nature, they still carry with them, in this lofty state 
of elevation, the source of all that corruption which renders them, 
during life, subject to error, misery, sin, and death. At the same 
time it proclaims to the most impious, grace through a Redeemer. 
By thus at once giving occasion of trembling to those whom it 
justifies, and of consolation to those whom it condemns, it mixes 
with just measure fear and hope through the twofold capacity in all 
of grace and sin, — so that it abases infinitely more than reason, 
yet without producing despair, and exalts infinitely more than 
natural pride, yet without puffing up.' In this relation, also, 
Pascal draws attention (ii. 316) to the fact that, whereas the 
notion of humility as a virtue was alien to the stand-point of the 
ancient world, it is in Christianity apprehended as self-resignation, 
self-humiliation seen in unison with the other virtues. * Only 
Christianity,' he says, * could unite things which have hitherto 
appeared so opposite. It alone has taught men that so far fi*om 
humility being incompatible with the other virtues, without it all 
other virtues are only vices and defects.' With how little pride 
does a Christian believe himself imited with GodI with how little 
dejection does he compare himself to the worms of tlie earth I 

Accordingly, Christ appears to Pascal as well the central point 
of all existence and religion as of the faith and life of the Gospel. 
Apart from him all the other doctrines of the Gospel lose their 
peculiar meaning. * Christ,' he says (ii. 115), 'is the end and 
centre of all. Whoever knows Him knows the reason of all things. 
The erring fall into error by not seeing one of two things. We 
can know God without knowing our misery, and our misery without 

knowing 



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300 PdscaTs Conception of the Essence of Christianity. [Oct. 

knowing God; but we cannot know Christ without knowing at 
once God and our misery. And therefore it is I would not venture 
to prove by natural argument the existence of God, or the Trinity, 
or the immortality of the soul, or anything of this nature, not only 
because I do not find myself able to discover in Nature anything 
sufficient to convince the hardened atheist, but, rather, because 
such a knowledge, without Chiist, were sterile and useless/ 



*^* After the enlightened and comprehensive exhibition of 
Pascal's views in these lectures, and the eloquent and most inte- 
resting paper which appeared some time ago in a contemporary 
journal,^ it were superfluous to attempt any further defence of 
Pascal's truly philosophical character. And we believe we can 
have no bett^ wish for the cause of a genuine philosophy than that 
the ' Thou^ts ' of Pascal, now for the first time published in an 
authentic and entire form, may be widely studied by all in our day 
whose minds are alive to the great and essential questions now so 
' obviously stirring society on all sides. 

Entertaining such an opinion of the worth of the Pensees, we 
were glad to observe the announcement of a translation of Fau- 
gere's edition, by George Pearce, Esq., ' Editor and Translator of 
the Provincial Letters.' Our pleasure we own, however, has not 
been heightened by a partial examination of the first volume of 
this translation just published. Amid evidences of scholarship 
and taste, and of a hearty love of the subject, it is yet marked by 
a license and, in some places, an inaccuracy and diffuseness in ren- 
dering Pascal's exact statements, that we think quite unwarrantable, 
and, surely, in regard to such a writer as Pascal, generally so clear 
and simple, wholly lumecessary. And, for one of the most im- 
portant of the extracts from letters addressed to Mademoiselle de 
Roannes, viz., that marked 11., p. 57 of Faugere, we have sought 
in vain. Does its omission arise from carelessness or intention ? 
In either case it seriously impairs the value of the translation. — 
Translator. 

* Edinburgh Hevieto, Jan. 1847, 



A Comment 



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1849.] ( 301 ) 

A COMMENT 
ON ST. LUKE'S PREFACE TO HiS GOSPEL. 

By J. VON GUMPACH. 

What imparts to the few words of dedication to Theophilus, by 
which St. Luke prefaces his Gospel, so important a ciharacter in 
regard to biblical criticism, is the light which, when correctly in- 
terpreted, they are calculated to throw upon the origin of the 
Gospels generally. Unfortunately the Greek text is couched in 
terms, admitting of an unusual latitude of meaning, and thus pre- 
senting a corresponding scope for interpretation. 

Among the various translations of the New Testament, our 
Authorized Version occupies a distinguished, if not the very first 
place. With all its excellencies, however, it must yet be allowed 
to combine also many defects, the most prominent of which arise 
from too anxious an attempt at literality, and from a calculated 
ambiguity of wording in cases of difficulty and doubt. Owing to 
the great superiority of the Greek language (even as idiomised by 
the sacred writers) in comparison with our own, for richness and 
variety of form and copiousness of expression, a literal translation 
is frequently a matter of impossibility ; whilst that vagiieness of 
meaning, embodied in a quaint and unaccustomed combination of 
sounds, which lends in so high a degree the baneful charm of 
mystery to our version, is not, it ought to be remembered, the 
attribute of the divine word, but, on the very contrary, the oflT- 
spring of mere human want of understanding. The English 
translation, in common with all others, would seem to require that, 
by disencumbering it of the dead letter, it should be made more 
freely to breathe the living spirit of the original. 

Admitting the general truth of these remarks, it will not be 
thought presumption on our part, we hope, if, in calling the atten- 
tion of our readers to the preface of St. Luke, we do so witli a 
view to a critical revision of the Authorized Version of the same, 
transcribing the latter to our pages, for the sake of more con- 
vement comparison, collaterally with the Greek text 

St. Luke, i. 1-4. 

(1) 'ETTci^^TTcp voXKol ewe- jForasmuch as msLny hsL\e taken 

')(elpri(ray avara^acrOai diTjyrioriy in hand to set forth in order a 

w£pi Twv 'jr€7r\ripo(poprifxivb)y kv declaration of those things "which 

^fily wpayfAcunavf (2) Kaddtg irapi- are most surely believed among u«, 

hitrav 2. Even 



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302 A Comment on St. Luke^s [Oct. 

^ovav rifxiv oi air apx^c ahrovTai 2. Even as they delivered them 
jcal virrfpETai yevofievoi tov Xoyov unto us, which from the beginning 
(3) e^oie KCLfioi, irapriKoXovOriKOTi were eye-witnesses and ministers of 
avwdev irdarit^y aKpifiw^ [,] Kade^iig the word ; 

(Toi ypdY'dt) jcpariarc 9eo0(Xe, (4) 3. It seemed good to me also, 

tva eiriyr^c vepl iv tcaTfixhOne having had perfect understanding 
Xdywv rijv do-i^aXciay. of all things from the very first, to 

write unto thee in order, most ex- 
cellent Theophilus, 

4. That thou mightest know the 
certainty of those things wherein 
thou hast been instructed. 

The whole of our prooemium, we thus perceive, forms hut one 
period, composed of several sentences, and divided into two main 
parts, the protasis, as they are called in grammatical language, 
and ihe apodosis, the latter being marked by gSo$s xaptoi. 

Our translators render the Greek conjunction l^6iS>ire§, v. 1, 
in its causal signification. We hold this to be an error, consider- 
ing that St. Lmce, who not only must have included St. Matthew 
and St. Mark, who wrote before him, among the ' many ' to whom 
he alludes ; but who, moreover, was about to make a large, and 
firequently a literal use, of their very Gospels, cannot possibly have 
intended to represent the existence of the latter as a reason for the 
publication of his own — such a reason necessarily implying either 
B.jvMification in behalf of the writer, which it does not constitute ; 
or else a censure on the compositions of his predecessors and 
authorities. Both suppositions are equally out of the question. 
On the contrary, the real sense which St. Luke evidently meant 
to convey, would seem to us to be that, in faithfully dehneating 
the primitive history and the fundamental doctrines of Christianity 
for the use of Theophilus and the circle of his friends, as St. 
Matthew and St. Mark had done for the instruction of their 
friends, he had even from their excellent example derived en- 
couragement to imitate it. The Greek word l^rsiSoi^g/) is composed 
of the conjunction of time and, though less frequently, of caus- 
ality, 6ir£tS»i, since^ after^ as^ because^ and the enclitical particle 
'nsp ; and in the Latin version of the New Testament is with 
suflScient correctness rendered quoniam quidem, taking quoniam 
quum jdm^ in the sense of as already. This, for the reasons 
adduced, we believe to be here the true meaning of the original 
term. 'Egrix^*?^"'^ ^^ take in hand, i. e. ^o undertake, ^ h^aTaLo-azo^ai 
S*>iyy)(Tiv, literally to dispose an account all along in order, i. e. 
to render a connected account (of certain things) ; the proper mean- 
ing of Si7jyrj(Tif being a narrative^ not a declaration. As a noun, 
the word certainly appears only this once in the New Testament ; 

frequently, 



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1849.] Preface to his Gospel 303 

frequently, however, in its radical form of a verb, and as such, 
though a few times rendered by our translators ' to declare,' ex- 
clusively in the strict sense of to relate. A double construction 
may be put upon the words vsql tmv vs'ffX'npo^o^fjtAvafy Iv rt/Mv 
Trqayf^dTo/y, according to the sense of to be surely believed or to be 
fulfilled, i. e. to come to passy which we attach to the passive verb 
TrXfipo^opeTo-Btxi. Either interpretation is linguistically admis- 
sible. In our version the former has been adopted — an error 
we judge it to be of importance, inasmuch as the translation 
in question would appear to render the existence of our Saviour, 
in a word the entire historical foundation of Christianity, a matter 
of abstract faith ratheii^an of concrete fact^ thus opening a wide 
door to incredulity and doubt, and so greatly favouring the 
mythical speculations of modem infidels. St. Liike describes the 
events which he relates, not only as a contemporary, upon the 
testimony of eye-witnesses, whose intimacy he enjoyed ; but, from 
an early period, as one of the chief actors in those selfsame events 
from personal knowledge and experience. Under such circum- 
stances it cannot for one moment be supposed that the Evangelist 
should have spoken of occurrences which he knew to have actually 
taken place^ as occurrences which were 'most surely believed* 
among the early Christian^. True, the Authorized Version 
renders ra Trpdyfjuara ' things ' instead of events, and by inference 
leaves the word to be construed in the sense of doctrines ; we need 
hardly say, however, that such a construction is utterly inad- 
missiole, for though the Greek term in our passage, certainly, 
does comprise the doctrines as well as the acts of our Lord and 
his disciples ; yet the former so exclusively in virtue of their his- 
torical character, i. e. as doctrines delivered, or, in other words, 
as axits of instruction. 

^TTTviqirnsy V. 2, in a general sense a servant, an assistant, a 
dependent agent; toD Xoyoy of the doctrine, i. e. the doctrine of 
Christ, Christianity : thence vTrnperns rov "Koyov, a propagator of 
Christianity, which we hold here to be the most appropriate 
translation. Ol aTr' a^xris avtimrai x. r. X., those, who from the 
beginning were . . . \. Q,th/e earliest eye-witnesses, &c. Can the 
Apostles, who are evidently thus alluded to, for one moment be 
supposed to have communicated to their fellow-labourers those 
events in the life and the ministry of our Lord, of which the later 
disciples were possessed of no personal knowledge, by means 
of written statements, instead of familiar discourses ? Hardly. 
ITflf^aSiSovai is consequently in this place to be taken in the sense 
of ' to verbally deliver,' i. e. to relate, and in which it occurs in 
numerous passages of the New Testament. 

The second part of our preface opens (ver. 3) with the anti- 
thesis 



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304 A Commeni on St. Luke's [Oct. 

thesis £$0^6 KxfAoi, it has seemed ffood also to me^ kn^tfiZs x»Qe^vs (ni 
y^avl/ai, xqoirKTrs ©eoftXe, to write Tinto thee, most excellent 
Theophilus, accurately in order, i. e. to send tkee, most ea:cellent 
{or most worthy) Theophilus^ the present record [of the said events 
(to be supplied as an ellipsis)], arranged in accurate order and 
succession. 'AKpifius is almost invariably, and so in our Authorized 
Version, connected with the verb of the intervening sentence iraqm- 
xoXoy^TixoTi ivft/dev TrSffiv [atx^igo/j] ; but, as already Luther has 
rightly perceived, in complete defiance of the grammatical position 
occupied by our term in regard to that verb. As to the latter 
sentence, it is generally held to express St. Luke's avthority for 
his undertaking, and the text being rendeysd, * having had perfect 
understanding of all things from the very first,' the inquiries of 
the Evangelist into the early history of Christianity are as 
generally considered to constitute the presumed authority. Dulj 
considered, however, the somewhat dubious sense of that transla- 
tion conveys nothing more than an excuse^ or at the best 2. justifi- 
cation. Let us, on the other hand, take the verb wot^axoXot/Qsrv in 
its proper meaning to accompany^ to he constantly at the side of, to 
he the constant companion of (Mark xvi. 17 ; Xen. Symp. viii. 23 ; 
Dem. cclxxxi. 22 ; Diod. Sic. xx. 29, &c.), and refer wairi, as, 
according to strict grammatical rule, and the natural connection 
of the context it should be done, to ' those who, from the begin- 
ning, were eye-witnesses,' &c. ; our sentence will then read thus, 
^ having from the first been the constant companion of all [these 
men],' and in the close personal intimacy of the Evangelist with 
every one of the principal members of the earliest Christian society, 
we possess, indeed, a real, and with reference to the Gospels of 
St. Matthew and St. Mark, we may say the only legitimate 
authority which could warrant St. Luke in composing a new^ 
though extended work on a subject upon which a similar work, 
written by one of the Apostles themselves, already existed. Nor 
does the Authorized Version of our passage appear to us to be 
consistent with the inspired character of the sacred volume, inas- 
much as the Evangelist is made to assure Theophilus that he had 
perfect understanding of all things from the very first, whilst yet 
a reference to the Gospel of St. Matthew, and more especially 
to that of St. John, will show that in the account of St. Luke some 
highly important discourses, several visits of our Lord to the 
Jewish capital, and other interesting circumstances connected with 
his life, are left unrecorded. We are consequently to infer that 
Luke either knowingly omitted, or rather suppressed such in- 
formation, or that unknowingly his assurance was not made in 
conformity with truth; and both suppositions we hold to be 
equally irreconcilable with a belief in the inspiration of his G«|spel. 



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1849.] 



Preface to his Gospel. 



305 



Thus grammatical as well as internal reasons fully entitle us to 
reject the common version of our sentence. 

*Ea-i7tv<w(jxgtv, ver. 4 (composed of the verb yivaxTKeit to leam^ and 
the augmentative particle Im) to obtain a more accurate^ a fuller 
knowledge, l^arnxsoyiai {vix'»\ to hear a report^ to receive informa^ 
tion^ to he instructed, 'A<y^alXgia, that which isjirm^ the real truth of 
a thing^ the real fojct as to a reported occurrence. This da^ak^ioLv 
Theophilus is to learn, the Evangelist writes, *irsqi <5v KOLrv^xM'ns 
Xoyojy, which words may be interpreted either in a doctrinal or a 
historical sense. According to the former our Authorized Version 
reads, 'That thou inightest know the certainty of those things 
wherein thou hast been instructed.' We hold this translation to 
be inadmissible for several reasons. In the first place, St. Luke, 
as a non- Apostle (in the more restricted acceptation of the term 
apostle) being but the equal of any other authorized teacher of the 
Christian doctrine, did, consequently, not possess that superior 
authority which the translators of our Bible would have him arro- 
gate to himself. In the second place, the Gospel of St. Luke is 
not, properly speaking, so much a doctrinal as a historical work. 
Lastly, the plural form ol Xoyot (onan) is never made use of to 

express doctrines^ the implied^ but erroneous sense of the correct, 
but only ostensibly employed term ' things ' of the Authorized 
Version. 

Having thus explained what we believe to be the true meaning 
of the original text of our preface, we are enabled to pve a cor- 
responding translation of it. Here it is, placed, for comparison's 
sake, in juxta-position to the accustomed phraseology. 



Authorized Yersion. 

Fbrasmuch as many have taken 
in hand to set forth in order a de- 
claration of those things which are 
most surely believed among us, 
even as they delivered them unto 
us, which from the beginning were 
eye-witnesses and ministers of the 
word ; it seemed good to me also, 
having had perfect understanding 
of all things from the very first, 
to write unto thee in order, most 
excellent Theophilus, that thou 
mightest know the certainty of 
those things wherein thou hast 
been instructed. 



Revised Tran8i«ation. 

Already many having under- 
taken to publish a connected ac- 
count of such events as have come 
to pass among us, even as they 
were related to us by the earliest 
eye-witnesses and propagators of 
Christianity ; it has seemed good 
also to me, who have been from 
the first the constant companion 
of all these men, to write unto 
thee, most worthy Theophilus, 
in accurate order and succession, 
to the end that thou mayest 
more fully become acquainted with 
the real truth of those things, 
regarding which thou hast received 
information. 

To 



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306 A Comment on St. Luke^s [OcL 

To judge of the comparative merits or demerits of either version 
we must leave to our readers. What would appear to us to con- 
stitute the chief source of error on the part of our early translators, 
is that, forgetinl of the historical character of St. Luke's work, in 
the second part of which, ^the Acts (i. e. the History of the 
Apostles* (ch. i. 1) he himself calls ihejirst part, the Gospel, tot 
vpojroy Xoyov, ' tlie first book of histories^* the Greek term being in 
this sense used also by Herodotus, Xenophon, &c. They mistook 
the corresponding character of our preface, in taking a doctrinal 
view of it, and thus, for the sake of consistency, were compelled to 
force, in dubious language, a construction upon the text which it 
does not and will not bear. 

As to the conclusions to be drawn from our prooemium in regard 
to the origin of the three first Gospels, it is not our present purpose 
to enter into this subject further than to point out its most apparent 
feature — the all-important fact that at any rate those histories of 
primitive Christianity which had been written previously to the 
Gospel of St. Luke, and among which number the Gospels of both 
St. Matthew and St. Mark may be proved to belong, were based, 
as well as his own, partly on the oral testimony of tiie entire body 
of the Apostles and other eye-untnesses, and partly on the personal 
knowledge and experience of the writers themselves. One or two 
more remarks : St. Paul, in his second epistle to the Corinthians 
(viii. 18) says, ' <TfV6greV\}/a/X6v Je ptcr' avrov (T irov) tov aS6X(p6v, o5 o 
fiVaivof gv Tu svacyysXicf} diai Traauv tmv e)cxXa)<Tift;v, which WOrds are 
by our translators of the Bible rendered, ' And we have sent with 
him (Titus) the brother, whose praise is in the Gospel throughout 
all the churches.' The brother here alluded to is generally ad- 
mitted to be St. Luke, whom we know at that time to have been 
in the company of^t. Paul ; and the evident sense of our quotation 
is, that the Gospel of Luke was the subject of universal praise 
among the Christian churches. Now the second epistle of St. Paul 
to the Corinthians, or at least that portion of it from which the 
above sentence is taken, can most satisfactorily be shown to have 
been composed in the year 59 a.d., shortly after Easter. The 
three first Gospels consequently must have been written previously 
to that period. 

With regard to the Gospel of St. Luke, we believe this period 
may be fixed with much greater accuracy. That Theophilus was 
a Roman, and that the Gospel dedicated to him was designed for 
the especial use of Romans, we are entitled to infer from numerous 
passages occurring in it, and upon the most ample grounds. When 
St. Paul, after a prolonged stay at Corinth, left that city, according 
to our computation in the early part of the year 53 a.d., Aquila 
and Priscilla, his fiiends and disciples, accompanied him as far as 

Ephesus, 



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1849.] Preface to his Gospel. 307 

Ephesus, where they remained (Acts xviii. 19, comp. 26). About 
six years later we find them again settled at Rome, whence a public 
decree of the Emperor Claudius against the Jews had expelled 
them in 49 a.d. (Orosius, Hist, JEccL vii. 6) ; for St. Paul, in his 
Epistle to the Romans (xvi. 3-5), says, ' Greet Aquila and Priscilla, 
my helpers in Christ JesuSy who have for my life laid down their 
own necks ; unto whom not only I give thanks, but also all the 
churches of the Gentiles. Likewise greet the church that is in 
their house,' &c. Who, in reading these words of the Apostle, 
can doubt but that the Christian community at Rome, then already 
numerous, was planted by Aquila and Priscilla ? At the earnest 
entreaty of St. Paul, it would appear, they had returned to Rome, 
& spread and confirm the truths of the Gospel of Christ among its 
adherents in that capital, until such time as he himself should be 
able to visit Rome, to the end that they might ' be established.' 
Hence he calls Aquila and Priscilla ' his helpers in Christ Jesus ; 
hence he says, * they have for his life laid down their own neck,' 
which is evidently to be taken in a proverbial sense, meaning that 
for ' his life,' the promotion of Christianity, they have made every 
sacrifice, and perhaps even incurred personal danger ; hence he 
states them to be deserving not only of his individual gratitude, 
but of the thanks also of every Gentile church. Connecting then 
these two facts with the last sentence of St. Luke's preface, the 
natural conclusion we arrive at will be, that Theophilus, a Roman 
of distinction, and a former personal acquaintance of the Evan- 
gelist, on hearing firom Aquila of 'the new doctrine' and the 
wonderful circumstances which had attended its introduction into 
the world, took a sufficient interest in that relation to make 
inquiries of St. Luke as to its real truth. Such, indeed, would 
appear to have been the immediate occasion which originated the 
third of our Gospels ; and if this view be correct, we may with a 
considerable degree of certainty place its appearance in tne years 
65-57 A.D., a sufficient time with regard to the two extreme 
periods named above being allowed, on the one hand, for the stay 
of Aquila and Priscilla at Ephesus and their return to Rome, and, 
on the other hand, for the Gospel becoming known * throughout 
all the churches.' 

Lastly, it is deserving of notice that St. Luke, according to our 
rerised translation, states his Gospel to be arranged in strict 
chronological order. Whether the same order is still preserved, 
or whether it has subsequently been disturbed, and under what 
influences and to what extent — these are questions the discussion 
of which is necessarily excluded from the scope of our present 
design. 

Observations 



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308 ObservaHom on the Tenses [Oct. 



OBSERVATIONS ON THE TENSES OF THE 
HEBREW VERB. 



By the Rev. D. H. Weik, M.A. 



* When we oome to the consideration of the manner in which time is specified in 
Hebrew, we must beg^n by discarding the preconceived notions we have acquired 
as to the proper fanction of the tenses/ — Nordheimer. 



I. — On the Formation of the Tenses. 

* Verbs,' says Adam Smith, ' must necessarily have been co-eval 
with the very first attempts towards the formation of language. 
No affirmation can be expressed without the assistance of some 
verb. We never speak but in order to express an opinion that 
something either is or is not. But the word denoting the event, 
or the matter of fact which is the subject of our affirmation, must 
always be a verb.' 

This observation I believe . to be upon the whole well-founded* 
It is true, indeed, that some very simple propositions may be, 
and in Hebrew and other languages are, expressed without the 
assistance of the verb. But, in general, the verb is essential to 
the expression of thought, and must, therefore, constitute an 
original part of every language. 

The attempt to trace back every Hebrew verb to a more pri- 
mitive noun seems, therefore, to involve a violation of the consti- 
tution of language. There is, indeed, a very intimate connection 
between the cognate verbs and nouns in the Hebrew language ; 
and upon this connection Dr. Lee has founded his very ingenious 
system. But to affirm that the noun has in every case preceded 
the verb in the order of time — however numerous the analo^es 
by which that affirmation may seem to be supported — is an excess 
of refinement by which the natural and probable are sacrificed to 
the apparently simple and ingenious. 

Neither, on the other hand, is the noun to be regarded as in- 
variably a derivative of the cognate verb. In very many cases, 
I believe, it is ; but there are in every language, not excepting 
Hebrew, nouns to which, if our classification be a natural one, we 
must assign the position of primitives. It appears to be as incon- 
sistent with the principles of language to consider the noun in 
every case the derivative of the verb as to consider the verb in 

every 



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1849.] of the Hebrew Verb. 309 

every case the derivative of the noun. And much ingenuity has 
been thrown away in searching for verbs from which to deduce 
the formation of nouns really primitive. 

To say that it is convenient, in laying down the rules of Hebrew 
grammar, to consider either the noun or the verb as comprehend- 
ing all primitives, is no proper defence of an arrangement, which 
is obviously unnatural. 

Assuming then the verb to be an original and essential part of 
the Hebrew language, we proceed to inquire into the formation 
and uses of its various parts. Our attention will be confined to 
the inflections of the kal conjugation, as the other conjugations 
(or rather distinct derivative verbs) probably came into use at a 
later period in the history of the language. 

If any part of the verb must be fixed on as the root, from which 
all the others are derived, that part appears to be the imperative. 
This is the part which would naturally come first into use, especially 
in a primitive state of society ; and in all languages, accordingly, 
its form is extremely simple. When I say, * come,' * go,' * stand,' 
^ tell me,' &c., I use a form of expression necessary even from 
the earliest times ; and we cannot, therefore, err greatly if we 
fix upon this part — ^supposing it necessary to fix upon any — as the 
primitive part or root, from which to deduce all the other in- 
flexions of the verb. 

Another principal part of the verb is the participle, the form 
of which is very short and simple. It usually consists of the same 
consonants as the imperative ; but the difference in signification 
was probably marked from the beginning by a difference in sound. 
It is employed to denote a state of action or existence either 
really present or supposed to be present ; and is thus essentially 
distinguished from the imperative, which necessarily involves the 
idea of futurity. This distinction in signification was accompanied 
and expressed by a distinction in sound ; thus Q^p arise, D^ arising ; 

Vop, ^e>, &c. 

From these two parts, the imperative and participle, all the 
other inflexions of the verb are easily deducible. 

From the imperative is derived at once the infinitive, which is 
usually of the same form, and expresses the same idea, but with- 
out any particular reference to person or time. ' He told me to 
come ' is only a modified form of the more ancient expression, 
* He said to me. Come.' Hence we find top imperative and in- 
finitive. The absolute form of the infinitive seems to be of later 
origin. 

Each of these forms, the imperative and infinitive, is varied ac-* 
cording to the number, &c., of the objects spoken to or spoken of. 

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. Y The 



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^10 Observations on the Tenses [Oct. 

The imperative is used only when one or more persons present 
are addressed. It has, therefore, but one person — ^e second. Of 
this person, however, there are four variations, formed by affixing 
particles of gender and number. For the masculine singular the 
primitive form is retained. The feminine is distinguished from it 
oy the addition of % probably part of ion. To denote the mas- 
culine and feminine plural respectively n and nj are affixed : ^ or 
p which is sometimes found being the sign of the plural, and n^ 
or njrr its feminine. 

The use of the infinitive is more extensive and indefinite. It is 
employed to denote action, &c., on the part not merely of the 
person or persons addressed, but also of the person or persons 
speaking and those spoken of. It, therefore, admits and requires 
a greater variety of inflexions than the imperative. These are 
formed, chiefly, by /prefixes : the object speaking or spoken to or 
spoken of being first brought before the mind, while the action 
or state of beiiiff affirmed of that object is regarded as future, and 
therefore placed last. Thus Vd?, to kill, is an expression than 
which no other can be more indefinite. But when I prefix n^pt, as 
bbp K>PT, contr. ^tDp?, he to kill, or he shall kill, the expression at 
once becomes definite — the act of killing being restricted to the 
person of whom I speak. Similar is the formation of bbp$ and 
bbp^ ; the former being a contracted form Vbp nWK, thou to kill, 
or thou shalt kill ; and the latter of fep *3K, I to kill, or I shall 
kill. Adding to the first two of these three forms the plural 
termination ^ (for p), and changing the prefixed ^ of the other 
into } (from .13^)5 we have the three corresponding plural forms 
^^Pip% ^^PPP, ^b?}* These six forms probably constituted the 
original future. But, as the language became more, copious, 
other changes of inflexion were made with the view of marking 
the distinction not only of number and person, but of gender. 
Such a change was obviously unnecessary in the first person. To 
the second and third persons, however, both of the singular and 
plural feminine forms were attached. Those of the second persons 
are analogous in structure to the corresponding parts of the im- 
perative, ^^^spn and ri3!?bpn. With these the third persons feminme 
are nearly identical, bbpjsi and nj!?bpJn. The formation of these 
last has never been very satisfactorily explained. May I hazard 
the conjecture that they originally belonged to the second person, 
the object spoken of (according to the present usage) being 
formerly the object spoken to ? 

We come now to what is usually called the past tense, but 

wl^ich 



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1849.] of the Hebrew Verb. 311 

which I propose, for reasons afterwards to be given, to denominate 
the present. Its formation is equally simple with that of the 
future. The participle may be regarded as its stem or root ; and 
to this the pronominal particles are affixed, not prefixed. This 
constitutes the very obvious distinctioQ between the two tenses ; 
and the explanation of it is not difficult. In the present tense, 
the object of which action, &c., is affirmed, is regarded as already 
before the mind of the speaker or writer, and therefore the most 
prominent position is assigned to the action affirmed of that object : 
while, in the future, the object must be clearly marked out before 
the action affirmed of that object is described, and is therefore 
placed first. 

The important inquiry now presents itself, What do these forms 
— the *Tpa and *Tpa^ — respectively import ? Under what varying 
phases do they describe flie idea expressed by the verbal root ? 
Many attempts have been made to give a satisfactory solution to 
1;his question, and many plausible hjrpotheses advanced ; yet, 
notwithstanding all that has been written, no certain conclusion 
has been arrived at. 

For a long period no great attention was paid to the funda- 
mental principles of the language. Much care and labour were 
expended (and by no means in vain) in collecting what were con- 
sidered variations in the use of the tenses ; but no attempt was 
made to trace these variations to any general principle. And 
thus, as the language became more accurately known, difficulties 
increased ; anomalies were multiplied to a very great extent, and 
the number of rules heaped together without any proper bond of 
union served rather to distract and discourage than to assist the 
student and stimulate him to perseverance. 

The two temporal forms were usually — as, indeed, they are still 
— called the past and the future. But grammarians assigned to 
each a much wider range of signification than these names respec- 
tively import. Both past and future tenses are set down as 
denoting also present time ; and even the past has not unfre- 
quently a future reference, and the future, a past. And now, 
after all the improvements which the study of universal grammar 
and a more careful attention to the principles of language have 
introduced, it must be confessed that much still remains to be 
done. The use of the Hebrew tenses, as described and explained 
in the latest and best grammars of the language, is so vague and 
indeterminate, that to the reflecting student some regulating 
principle appears still to be undiscovered, — some law which may 
give unity and harmony to the system, connecting and reconciling 
what now seems independent and anomalous. 

Of course we cannot expect that time should be very accurately 

y 2 marked 



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312 Ohservations on tlie Tenses " [Oct. 

marked in a language which has but two forms to denote it« But 
it is important that the original signification of these forms should, 
if possible, be fixed, and u)e extent of their use defined. The 
remarks which follow are the result of much thought and some 
research. 

IL— Of the ipQform. 

The connection between this form and the participle is gene- 
rally acknowledged. That the partidple *has most frequently 
the signification of the present ' *• is also acknowledged. Why, 
then, not come to the conclusion that the ipiD form also denotes 
present time ? 

Indeed, it is admitted that present time is sometimes denoted by 
this form : but that this is its proper and primary signification has 
not, so far as I am aware, been maintained by any grammarian. 
Ewald (§ 262) limits its use as a present to the description of 
^ actions which the speaker contemplates as finished, already 
accomplished, but extending in that state into the present, where 
modem languages would use the simple present,' and to the case 
of ' universal truths, which are clear from experience, and have 
decidedly proved themselves so.' In the same manner Gesenius, 
Nordheimer, and others, explain away this use of the nps) form ; 
and, in doing so, they exert no great ingenuity, as in the course of 
Providence every present action or state of being is in some 
measure dependent on past actions or states. 

But let us notice for a moment the examples Ewald gives, and 
which occur in almost every page of Scripture: ^jfOTj I know, 
♦^•jaj I remember, v^y;^ he hates. Now, it is true that knowledge 
is founded on experience, and memory necessarily implies some- 
thing past which is remembered, and hatred points to some injury 
sustained, or some ugly feature of character exhibited. Yet it is 
no less true that in all this we have no proper ground for con- 
cluding that '^r\IS^l or ^^"j3{ or a;^ denotes tnat which * the speaker 
contemplates as finished or already accomplished.' On the con- 
trary, what can be more evident than that these terms denote 
present time, describing something which occupies the mind at 
the time of speaking ? No doubt there is a past reference ; but 
that is only implied ; the state described is present. 

An example, difierent from any to which Ewald or Gesenius 
has referred, will set this in a clear light. In one of the visions 
described by Zechariah, four chariots with horses of difierent 
colours are seen coming out from between two mountains of 
brass. The Prophet asks. What are these ? He is told they are 

• See Rodiger's Gesenius* Grammy § 131. 

the 



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1849.] of the Hebrew Verb. * 313 

the four spirits of heaven going forth (rtKy^O ^^®™ standing 
before God (vi. 6, &c.) ; * the black houses which are therein go 
forth (d*nv*) into the north country ; and the white go forth O^yj) 
after them; and the grisled go fwth (JlK?j) toward the south 
country ; and the bay went forth (-INXj), and sought 08rpn?l) to go 
that they might walk,' &c. Let me dwell on this passage for a 
little, as we may derive from it some important conclusions. I 
must premise that this part of Zechariah^s prophecies is evidently 
written in simple prose. 1. We find here the participle (b^^V*) 
and the npB form (^yj) used to denote exactly the same time 
which confirms what was noticed above as to the connection of 
these parts of the verb. 2. We have the npB form used to denote 
present time ^ — to describe what was actually taking place, and 
that too without any very obvious dependence upon the past.. 
Here, it is obvious, the tense does not denote either * a condition 
or attribute already long continued and still existing,' or ' a per- 
manent or habitual action,' but simply describes what was at the 
moment going on before the Prophet's eye.« Here, then, the 
tense decidedly and necessarily denotes present time ; and that 
this was a common use of it we may gather from the fact of its 
being so used in this passage, in which the Prophet, rather than 
employ an uncommon phraseoloffy, would undoubtedly have con- 
tinued to use the participle witn which he had begun, and the 
signification of which could not have been mistaken. 3. We have 
here an example and illustration of the historic style, to which 
reference will be made more particularly afterwards, ^pnp ^«yj — 
translated in our Version, * they toent forth and sought.' But why, 
it is natural to ask, should "iKyj be rendered ' they go forth ' m 
one verse, and * they loeifit forth ^ in the very next ? There is no 
intimation of a change of time. The letters, both consonants and 
vowels, are exactly the same in bath verses. The conclusion, 
therefore, is a probable one, that the time is in both cases the 
same, i. e, present. And if the nps form denotes present time in 
such a phrase as ^K^pnjl ^Nyj, which represents the common use of 
the tenses in historical narrative, then the real character of this 
form is at once fixed. It must be a preserit tense. 

Another class of passages in which this form is obviously em- 
ployed to denote present time consists of those in which it is com- 
monly said to be used as a future — * in protestations and 
assurances in which the mind of the speaker views the action as 

^ See also, for passages iu which this form denotes present time very obyiousl j, 
Exod. vii. 1 ; Num. xiv. 20; Deut. iv. 26; viii. 19; ix. 16; xiv. 11 ; Judg. i. 2 ; 
1 Sam. viii. 5; xv. 2; xvi. 2; xvii. 10, 28, 34, 55; xxiY. 11, 15, 24; xxviii. 9. 

« Rodiger's Geseaius, § 124. 3 

already 



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314 * Observations on the Tenses [Oct 

already accomplished, being as good as done.'^ Thus it is 
employed in every page of the prophetic Scriptures. Gen. vi. 13, 
Dn*n^ ^M»^> 1^0, I destroying them ; I will destroy them. Here 
the participle is used, and rightly translated by the LXX, i^ou 
kyat Kxra^siqoj avrouf. So t£e *TpD form is Used. Thus Gen. 
ix. 9, >J:in5 n« D^j?tp ^Jjri ly« dyiffrnfjn^ I establishing my covenant, 
has evidently the same meaning as v. 11, ^inni HN ^nbpni xeu 
ffma-oj (according to the Seventy). Both participle and ipa form 
in this and similar passages evidently denote the same time, u e. 
present. 

There is, however, another very large class of passages to 
which the preceding remarks have little application — that in which 
the npB form is usually or rather universally supposed to denote 
past time. Can these be explained in consistency with our 
theory ? This apparent difficulty leads us to unfold a General 
Principle, which seems to have had an extensive influence on the 
structure of the Hebrew language. 

The principle is this : — The Hebrews were accustomed to 
regard and describe past events as present, because they trans- 
ported themselves, as it were, to the period when the events of 
which they speak took place, and thus viewed and described as if 
they were spectators of them. This is a principle which is 
adopted to some extent by all Hebrew grammarians ; but is not, 
I think, carried out far enough by any of them. 

It is evidently a natural principle : quite in accordance with 
the habits of thought and expression prevalent in a simple state of 
society.® To throw one's self back on former days — forgetting 
one's own position — and pourtray, as if from actual observation, 
what had taken place long before, is a characteristic which we 
might have anticipated from the period and the state of society in 
which the Hebrew language grew up to maturity. 

In primitive times, too, the memory of historical events seems 
to have been preserved by means of paintings. These probably 

E receded written annals. The American tribes, it is well known, 
ad attained some skill in painting, and employed it as a means 
of transmitting the knowledge of past events, while writing was 
altogether unknown among them. The same must have been the 
case in the East ; many specimens of Eastern historical painting 

** Rodiger's Gesenius, § 124. 4. 

• Nordhttimer's notion as to the Hebrews re^rdiug the present as a point of time 
fh>m which the past and the future extended m opposite directions appears to be 
utterly untenable. The present is far too important in the estimation of all men, 
whether Jews or Gentiles, to be reduced to a mere point. This * abstract idea of 
the nature of time' could never have regulated the formation of simple primitiye 
languages. More probable far is it that &e present would, in such circumstances, 
be greatly extended than that it should thus be indefinitely contracted^ 

Still 



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1849.] of the Hebrew Verb. 315 

8tiU remain. It is, therefore, probable that the first historical 
narrative was simply a description of a series of historical paint^ 
ings ; these were, perhaps, imder the writer's eye, and the events 
delineated on them would thus be very naturally described by 
him as if he were himself present a spectator of them all. 

Whatever weight may oe attached to* the preceding observa- 
tion, it is certain that, in a simple state of society, the imagination 
exerts a much more extensive influence than when society is more 
advanced and better compacted. Hence historical poetry usually 
precedes historical prose. Homer comes before Herodotus. And 
though we should admit — which we by no means do admit — ^that 
the earliest records the Bible contains are written in prose, yet it 
is a prose which preserves many of the characteristics of poetry. 

Let us notice some of these : — 

1. We find, in the first place, that various expedients are em- 
ployed by the Hebrew writers to bring the objects described and 
the events recorded as directly and immediately as possible 
before the mind. The parties, whose actions are recorded, are 
brought upon the stage m person, and made to speak for them- 
selves. We see them ; we hear them ; we, as it were, join their 
society, and enter into their feelings, and purposes, and actings. 

2. This delusion, if I may call it so, is strengthened by the fre- 
quent use of the particle njn, which points to something present, 
or imagined present, and thus brings the person or event it in- 
troduces immediately before the mind :' thus 1 Sam. xxx. 3, 
And David and his men come to the city, and lo I burnt with 
fire K^n nwife^ njni ; ver. 16, And he goes down, and lo I spread 
over all the land D^} 7\in\. See also Zecharlah ii. 1, And I 

look, and lo I four horns ; ver. 5, I look, and lo I a man having 
a measuring line ; ver 7, And lo ! the angel cometh forth («>(^) ; 
ver. 14, Sing and rejoice, O daughter of Zion ; lo ! I come 
K3 >;))n. This particle is employed to direct attention to past and 
future events, as well as present ; but in every case it tends to 
bring the object spoken of into our presence. Thus, in th^ 
examples given, the historian, as it were, points to the city burnt 
with fire, flie men lying in security, &c. ; we no longer hear, we 
see ; the past is changed into the present. 

5. The use of the demonstrative pronoun nj this (as distin- 
guished from K^n tha£) is not less frequent ; and this usage has 
the same efiect of bringing the object pointed at before the eye. 

' See also Exod. iii. 22; xiv. 10; Nnm. lii. 12; xiii. 10; Deut. iii. 11 ; Jndg. i. 
2; iii. 24, 25; 1 Sam. v. 3; ix. 14; x. 10; xti. 11 ; xvii. 23; xxiv. 2; xxyii. 8; 
2 Sam. \, 2, 6, &c. Instead of fljil, we sometimes find n^jfl. as in Dent. i. 8, 21 ; 
iL 24, 31 ; iv. 5, &c. 



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316 Observations on the Tenses [Oct. 

* nj oi/Tor, Aic, always points to an object present or near ; but 
wn flst/TOf, is, an object already mentioned or known. Tins dis- 
tinction is clearly seen in Judg. vii. 4.'« See^ 2 Sam. ii. 13, 
They sat down, the one (n^w) on the one side (njo) of the pool, 
and the other {rh^) on the other side (njp) ; ver. 20, And Abner 
said ^f«nby ni nn«n, * Art thou Asahel ? ' lit. * thou this one,* or 

* thou here ;' in which expression the real force of the pronoun is 
apparent. Several instances of such a construction might have 
been anticipated, and are met with in all languages, but in 
Hebrew this is the general usage ; and its eflFect is to bring us 
into immediate contact with the object spoken of, and thus excite 
a deeper interest in our minds. 

4. Similar is the result attained by the use of the participle, 
which, accordingly, we find conjoined with n|n and nt. Gram- 
marians are accustomed to say that the participle is used for all 
the tenses; though they generally acknowledge with Gesenius 
that it most frequently denotes present time. But, upon con- 
sideration, it appears erroneous to affirm that it denotes any other 
time than present. It is only used for the future when that 
future is conceived of as present ; and in all such cases the force 
of the passage depends on its being accounted a present and 
not a future. Nor are the examples of its use to xjenote past 
time at all more satisifactory. Gesenius refers to Job i. 16, 
^ ^Xi "^319 nj. n'Wj * the one [was] still speaking, and another came,' 
as be translates it^ but a little reflection must convince us that a 
present action is described. *Yet this one speaking, and this 
other comes.' The speakiiig of the one and the coming of the 
other are described as simultaneous, and the n|, here as else- 
where, has the eflFect of brineitig the whole party before us, 
and making us eye-witnesses of the scene. Another example he 
adduces is Gen. xlii. 35, * It came to pass as they emptied their 
sacks (D^pnp on), that behold every man's bundle of money was 
in his sack.* Here again the use of the present is preferable, 
especially as njirr is employed. ' And it is, they opening their 
sacks, that lo I each man [has] the bundle of money, &c.* His 
third reference is to Exodus ii. 6 : thus rendered in our Version, 

* And when she had opened it, she saw the child, and lo I the 
babe wept' rdi. But how much more simple and expressive the 
rendering, ^Tlien she opens and looks on the child, and lo I the 
babe is weeping.' 

The consideration of these various usages prepares the way for 
the enunciation of the General Principle — that the Hebrew 



B Kodiger's Gesenius^ § 120. 



writers, 



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1849.] of the Hebrew Verb. 317 

writers, instead of keeping constantly in view the period at which 
they wrot«, and employing a variety of tenses to describe the 
different shades. of past, present, and future time, accomplished 
the same object by keeping their own times quite out of view, 
and regarding as their present the period not at which but of 
which tney wrote. Thus, to take as an example the very first 
words of the Bible : * In the beginning God fenn the heavens and 
the earth' — ^this may either be rendered God 'created' or God 
* creates'. Adopting the former, we suppose the historian to 
speak from his own position, looking back on an event long past. 
Adopting the latter, we suppose him to speak as one present, as 
spectator, to forget himself and his time, and bring the event 
prominently before his reader's eye by describing it as present to 
his own. Either of these renderings may be adopted without in 
the least affecting the sense of the passage ; the latter we deem 
preferable, because it seems most in accordance with the general 
structure of the Hebrew language. 

The adoption of this principle gives very great simplicity to 
this part of Hebrew grammar. Turning to the Grammar of Ge- 
senius, we find no less than five different significations assigned to 
this form. According to that grammarian, and indeed almost 
every other, it stands 1. *in itself and properly for absolutely and 
fully past time ;' 2. for the pluperfect ; 3. for the present ; 4. for 
the future ; 5. for those relative tenses in which the past is the 
principal idea — the imperfect subjimctive, the pluperfect sub- 
junctive and the future-perfect ; not to mention the vanous changes 
effected by the conversive \ All this appears very unnatural 
and inconsistent with the simplicity of a primitive language. 
There must be some principle of adjustment and harmony yet to 
be discovered and applied ; — some idea which may form a bond 
of union between significations so various and apparently so oppo^ 
site and incompatible. Apply the principle which has been just 
laid down. View the speaker or writer, not as fixed at one 
standing^point ; but as moving along with the narrative, changing 
his standing-point with iiie course of events. Tlien we discover a 
reason why tne uses of the Hebrew temporal forms should be to 
our eyes so numerous and seemingly discordant. We have been 
applying to this ancient and primitive language the rules of those 
with winch we are more fatmliar ; and have thus become involved 
in great confusion. The simple and natural principle which has 
been explained, brings order out of confusion. To the tense but 
one signification is assigned ; and at the same time the variety of 
significations usually attributed to it is easily explained. 

Indeed, it is now generally allowed, that it is improper to call 
this a past tense. Ewald and otl^er grammarians prefer the 

name 



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318 Observations on the Tenses [Oct 

name Perfect, 'although not in the strict sense of ihe Latin 
grammar/ ' The conception of the time of action,' says £wald 
[§ 261], 4s twofold. It is either considered as ahready finished^ 
done, and therefore as definite and certain, or as not yet Jmished 
and done^ as being done merely. The first is the positive and 
objective, the other the negative and subjective side and view of 
the relation of the action to the circumstances of time. Hence 
these two forms of time are not confined to external spheres of time, 
to abstract past or future as contradistinguished from the present ; 
but in whatever sphere of time the speaker can conceive the event, 
he can consider it in that sphere either as finished or unfinished, so 
that these forms do not acquire their more definite signification by 
themselves alone but in particulars, essentially by the connection of 
the whole sentence also.' Several of these observations are, I think, 
well founded. But instead of the terms finished and not finished. 
I prefer the old fashioned present andfuturef for tiiese reasons : — 

1. The former seem to have reference almost exclusively to 
one class of verbs — active verbs. It is of these that Ewald speaks ; 
for to these only the terms he employs seem properly to apply. 
In other verbs, describing a state of bemg or existence, nothing is 
more common than the use of the ipQ form to denote a present 
state, — a state, which may indeed be continued from the past, but 
which may also be continued into the future. In such cases this 
form cannot strictly be said to denote what is finished in opposi- 
tion to what is not yet finished. Thus when tiie Psalmist says 
^Jn^PI'Ql, now I am old, it is plain the tense does not denote what 
is finished and done, for his old age was not then over, but simply 
a state or condition actually existmg. And such expressions are 
of very fi-equent occurrence. 

2. Even in active verbs this form does not alwavs denote a 
finished or completed action as distinguished from action not yet 
finished. This Ewald himself allows when he says that it some- 
times denotes ' an action which the speaker contemplates as finished, 
already accomplished, but extending in that state into the present,' 
that is, in plain language, finished but not yet finished. In such 
cases the idea expressed is not that of completion but of actual 
existence. 

Here tiien we have two ideas, the idea of something done, and 
the idea of sometiiing existing, denoted by this form. Both of 
these appear to be comprehended in the general idea of the He- 
brew present. In that language an action done and a present 
action seem to he one and the same thing. The very mention of an 
action as performed implies that the action spoken of is regarded 
by the speaker as actually present, Tlie period of performance is 
for the moment his standings-point ; he dwells amid the scenes, and 

takes 



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1849.] of the Hebrew Verb. Sift 

takes part in the actions, which he describes. Thus the distant 
past is regarded and described as the present. 

But, it may be said, if the writer lie thus supposed to follow 
the course of events, and describe past and future actions as pre- 
sent, without any regard to his own actual position, does not this 
banish from the form the idea of time altogether, and restrict its 
use to the mere affirmation of action or existence ? This inference 
would not be incorrect, were there no other form by which time is 
denoted, and with which the form just considered is most inti* 
mately connected. 

This leads to some observations on 

111.— The ^pt^> form. 

With regard to the formation of this tense, its probable con- 
nection with the imperative and infinitive has been already noticed. 
In both of these moods the idea of futurity is implied. The com- 
mand given by the imperative has reference, of course, to an action 
afterwards to be performed ; and the infinitive is a more abstract 
and indefinite form of the imperative. If this be so, we can have 
no difficulty in assigning to tiie ips* form a future signification, 
though its use differs, in many respects, from that of our future 
tense. 

In the grammars we are, as usual, overwhelmed with a great 
variety of significations ; but, by applying the principle already 
explained, we shall be enabled to render the investigation and its 
results more simple. My object is to show that un& form uni- 
formly involves the idea of futurity. 

That it denotes absolutely future time is, I believe, almost 
universally acknowledged. Examples are to be found in almost 
every page of Scripture.^ One may be sufficient, 1 Sam. xxii. 3. 
Let my mther and mother be with you till I know what God will 
do for me D^n% ^nbgrn© iHK 1^« Ig [lit. till I to know what he 
to do to me, God]. 

In the same chapter there is an example somewhat different, on 
which I mean to found some remarks. 1 Sams xxii. 22. And 
David said unto Abiathar, I knew it that day (x^nn DVa *?«?^j) 
when Doeg the Edomite [was] tiiere that he would surely tell 
iyVl ^'W*?) Saul. Now, at the time when these words were 
spoken, Doeg had actually told Saul of the matter to which re- 
ference is made. But it is plain that the action denoted by the 

^ See also Exod. vi. 1 ; vii. 2 ; ix. 29 ; xi. 1 ; xii. 44 ; Num. ii. 2 ; vi. 3 ; Judg. 
i. 2; ii, 2; 1 Sam. i. 11 ; ii. 30, 34; 1 Sam. viii. 9, 11, 19; x. 3; xvii. 26, 27, 37; 
XTiii. 17, 18 ; xx. 10; xxii. 3, 22, 23; xxiii. 2, 12, 13 ; xxvi. 6 ; 2 Sam. i. 10 ; ii. 
1, 6, 22, 26 ; Zach. ii. 8, 9j iii. 7, 10 ; Lament, ii. 13, &c. 

verb 



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320 Observations on the Tenses |^Oct. 

verb n^iS though absolutely past, is here viewed as future in 
reference to the time denoted by the verb ^J^nj. In other words, 
David throws himself back to the period when he saw Doeg the 
Edomite, and when the thought occurred that the information of 
Doeg would occasion the slaughter of the priests. That period 
he regards as present ; and in relation to that period, therefore, 
the act of Doeg is viewed as future. By this simple device the 
Hebrews avoided the complexity of our verbal formation. But it 
is to be noticed that, on the principle thus laid down, ^jsqnj must 
denote present time, indicating the period in reference to which 
the telUnff of Doeg is future. The literal translation, therefore, 
is as follows, * I know in that day, when there Doeg the Edomite, 
that he unll surely tell Saul.' This is scarcely good English ; 
but it matters not, if it furnishes an exact expression of the mode 
of thinking adopted by the Hebrews. That tne act of the mind 
of which David speaks was past at the time when he spoke is 
certain ; but the fact that it. was past in that point of view is indi- 
cated not by the verb ^r\)pj but by the phrase ' in that day,' with 
which it is conjoined. See also 2 Sam. i. 10, I slew him because 
I was sure he could not live iTri; K^ *3 '^i^i^ ^3 [lit. because I know 
that he will not live.] Such modes of expression appear very 
strongly to confirm the views we are suggestmg.* 

For, in these cases, this form is employed to denote actions 
which are absolutely past, but which are regarded and described 
by the speaker as futiu*e. Why ? Because he takes as his stand- 
ing-point and describes as present not the time at which, but the 
time of which he speaks — in relation to which period the events to 
which reference is made are future. 

On the same principle we easily perceive how this tense is em- 
ployed to denote the conseqtience of an action or state, even though 
that consequence, as well as the action or state from which it flows, 
be, according to our mode of thinking, strictly past.'^ Thus, 1 Sam* 
iii. 2, Eli's eyes began to wax dim, so that he could not see, ^DV fc6 

^ See Ewald*8 Grammar, § 602. He adduces as examples Exod. ii. 4, and Job 
xxxYi. 10 ; and his remark is : * A proposition containing an indirect thought is 
annexed in the same simple manner (as if direct), for the language possesses 
no particular form or mode to express it : the tense remains as it would be if the 
thought were simple and direct How much more probable the explanation here 
giyen. Ewald almost touches on what I think the true view when he remarks on 
Exod. ii. 4, * She stood to know what would be done ' (M^.^. Hp), that < cU the time 
when ehe wanted to hnow it, it was still future,* Surely, Uien, that time must hxve 
been regarded by the historian as present. 

^ See Ps. cxv. 5. A mouth to them, but they do not speak O"©*?* t^X) > ^7^ to 
them, but they see not 0^1^ tOI), &c : speaking, seeing, &c, being the proper 
effects of having month, eyes, &c. See Ps. cxtL 3, 10 ; Dent. iv. 28 ; Lament 
3, 7, &C. 



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1849.] o/the Hebrew Verb. 321 

r\\»rf^. Here ^5^* is future, being viewed in relation to the dim-* 
ness of vision mentioned immediately before. See 1 Sam. xix. 17. 

For the same reason this form is usually employed to denote 
continuance of action or existence. The Hebrews, following out 
the principle already mentioned, were accustomed to view such 
continuance of action from its commencement ; from which point 
it must be regarded and described as future. Gen. xxiv. 31, 
f ^na IbJO n©^, wherefore dost thou continue to stand without ? 
Judg. ii. 1, DnV®9 DpP^ n^fi^, I continued to ascend with you 
from Egypt ; the whole journey being viewed, as it were, from 
the point of starting. 1 Sam. xxv. 28, Evil hath not been found 
in thee all thy days. '?i>^o ^5 V^t^TCvh Hjfjl. Here the future 
tense is employed, because Abigail bepns her survey with the 
commencement of David's life (as is indeed not obscurely indicated 
by the use of the preposition D in ^*5Jp), and thus views his whole 
career as future."* 

On the very same principle we explain the use of this tense to 
denote habitual actions or states, common opinions, &c. ; — these 
actions, &c., being viewed from their commencement, and thus 
described as future. Haggai i. 11, whatsoever the ground bringeth 
forth, K^v'ii^, i, e.y usually brings forth. Judg. xxi. 25, Every man 
did, n^>, what was right in his own eyes, L e.j was accustomed to 
do. i Sam. xvi. 7, The Lord seeth not as man seeth, nvr\\ ; for 
man looketh, n^)y on the outward appearance, but God looketh 
on the heart, nvnn, t. ^., is accustomed to look. 1 Sam. xviii. 5, 
David went out whithersoever Saul sent him, «n^K^, [and] behaved 
himself wisely, ^^3K^i [wherever Saul will send him, he will behave 
himself wisely], the series of actions being viewed as future, because 
viewed, according to our principle, from its commencement." 

Now, in all these usages, there is involved ibis one principle — 
that, in viewing a continued series of past events, the Hebrews, 
instead of looking back towards the commencement of the series, 
take their station in thought at the commencement, and, looking 
forward from thence, view its gradual development. Admit this 
principle, — and we have an easy solution of difficulties in which we 
must otherwise be involved. 

We now proceed to examine briefly the various significationa 

^ See also Exod. iv. 11 ; t. 15; Num. xiv. 11; Judg. i. 21, 27; 1 Sam. v. 5 ; 
xi. 5; xxiii. 13; xxiv. 10, 14 ; xxix. 5; 2 Sam. iii. 8; Lament, ii. 1, 10, 12; iii. 
8, &c. 

» See also Gen. xxix. 26; Exod. xiii. 22; xyiii. 15, 16; xl. 32; Num. ii. 17; 
iii, 31 ; iv. 9, 14; ix. 14, &c. ; xj. 5; Deut L 31 ; ii.. 11, 20; iii. 9, 13; iv. 17 j 
viii. 3, 5 ; 1 Sam. i. 7, 8 ; ii. 14, 19, 22 ; ix. 6, 9 ; xix. 24 ; xx. 2 ; xxiii. 22, 23 ; 
xxiy. 20 ; xxvi. 20; Lament, ii* 15. 

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Observations on the Tenses [Oct 

assigned to this form by Gesenius, applying to them the preceding 
remarks. 

After mentioning the use of this tense to denote strictly future 
time, which I hold to be its only use, he goes on to notice that it 
is employed (2) to denote present time, especially ^ in the expression 
of permanent states which exist now and always will exist ; hence 
lilso in the expression of general truths.' But it is very obvious 
that the tense may denote and describe permanent states and 
general truths without necessarily marking present time.^ These 
states and truths have no necessary connection with the present, 
though, in expressing them, we generally use the present tense. 
That is the mode of expression which we adopt, but it does not 
follow that the Hebrews adopted the same. A permanent state 
may be spoken of as future not less strictly and properly than as 
present ; and this the Hebrews seem usually to have done, because 
they looked rather to the beginning of the state, and to its conti- 
nuance from that time forward, than to the fact of its being a 
present state. On the examples, therefore, adduced by him under 
this head, it is unnecessary to enlarge ; one general remark will 
suffice. 

These general truths and permanent states are expressed some- 
times by the Ipa, and sometimes by the npD^ form. Perhaps it is 
impossible to describe exactly in what cases the one of these forms 
is used, and in what cases the other. The following rule, how- 
ever, will be found extensively applicable. When toe state de- 
noted by the verb is described, either formally or by implication, 
as the caiLse of some other state, the npa form is employed ; when 
as the consequence^ the *TpQ^ is employed. Two examples given by 
Gesenius himself will illustrate this rule. Psalm i. 1, Blessed is 
the man who walketh (n^n) not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor 
stands (npy), &c. Here the ipa form is used because the not 
walking in the counsel of the ungodly, &c., is described as the 
catLse of blessedness, whereas in Prov. xv. 20, A wise son maketh 
glad {rxd^) his father, the making glad is the effect resulting from 
Sie wisdom of the son. This rule, which, so far as I have been 
able to examine, is very extensive in its application, flows at once, 
it will be perceived, from the principles already laid down. The 
present tense properly denotes the accompanying cause ; the future, 
the resulting effect. 

• ** See Lnke i. 87 : oIk iZwurfyrti irapk r^ 9c^ irojr ^fta: ' NothiDC shall be im- 
possible with God/ This we more natuiidly express. ' Nothing is impossible.' 
But it would surely be very erroneous to affirm tiiat the future tense here denotes 
present time. The reason why the future is used plainly is, that there is implied 
a future reference to the miraculous birth of Christ which the angel announced as 
soon to happen. 

Gesenius 



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I849.] of the Hebrew Verb. 328 

Gesenius properly remarks that it is not necessarily without dif- 
ference of meaning that the sacred writers employ such phrases as 
Mnn l^xp and ntx^ n|p ^^. The former is usually employed : and 
for this reason, that^ according to their accustomed mode of think- 
ing, the Hebrews viewed the journey from its commencement, and 
framed their questions accordingly. The ^ coming ' is viewed and 
expressed as friture, in relation to the place of departure ; and not 
past, in relation to the time of arrival. When the latter form is 
employed there is usually some good reason. In Gesenius's ex- 
ample. Gen. xvi. 8, the reason is very obvious, nKJ being con- 
trasted with *5!?p. So much for this use of the ip&> form. 

Further, according to Gesenius, *it denotes a series of relations 
which in Latin are expressed by the subjunctive, especially by the 
present-subjunctive;' more particularly (1) for the subjimctive 
after particles signifying that, that not, &c. ; (2) for the optative ; 
(3) for the imperative ; (4) for the potential. In all these, how- 
ever, the idea of futurity is necessarily implied. The Hebrews 
easily dispense with those distinctions of mood essential to other 
languages, by adopting the simple device of transferring themselves 
and their hearers to the period of which they speak and the scene 
which they describe. 

Fourthly, Gesenius sets down this form as denoting past time. 
It is chiefly used thus in the following cases, which we must ex- 
amine and explain ; otherwise our theory falls to the ground. 

1. After the particles TN then, Dnp not yet, D'TOa (when not yet) 
before. Applying to these cases the general principle already 
explained, we discover an easy solution of the apparent diflBkJulty. 
Suppose the historian not to speak of events in relation to his own 
times, but to go along with his narrative, we at once perceive why 
he employs such phrases as n^ n'^ t^ and j^iT nan? IK ; the 
singing of Moses and speaking of Joshua being fdture in relation 
to the events recorded immediately before, and which, for the time, 
the historian views as present. So with d'TO and Dnjpa. The idea 
of futurity is necessarily implied in the verb which follows such 
particles. In such cases, indeed, we employ the past tense. We 
say, ' before he came, went, &c.' But the reason is that we view 
time quite diflerently from the Hebrews. We speak of events in 
relation to our own times. But the Hebrews did not so. Or, at 
least, suppose they did not so — suppose their notions of relative 
time were such as have been already set forth— then we have at 
once the reason why in such expressions they use the future tense. 
The action denoted by the verb, following such a particle as Dnp, 
must necessarily be future in relation to some other action or state 
with which it is connected, and from which it is viewed and de- 
scribed. 



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324 Observations on the Tenses j^Oct 

scribed. Gen. xxiv. 45, ngn^ n^?S D'39, before I had done speak- 
ing in my heart, behold, Rebekah came forth ; lit. I, before I to 
finish to speak in my heart, lo I Rebekah coming, &c. ; n^3^ being 
future in relation to the coming forth of Rebekah. 

2. Of customary and continued action. How the idea of future 
time is implied in these has been already explained. 

3. Also of single acts that are done and past where the preterite 
might be expected.^ The examples are all taken from the poetical 
scriptures. Job iii. 3, Perish the day in which I was born, te n^K ; 
lit. I to be born in it ; Job going back in thought to a period pre- 
ceding this birth. So Job iii. 11, Why not from the womb I to 
die, moK. Even in these cases, therefore, we find the operation of 
the same principle. 

It is unnecessary to dwell on the fifth variety of signification 
which Gesenius ascribes to this form — ^that of an imperfect sub- 
junctive — especially in conditional sentences. In all the examples 
future time is apparent. 

Neither is it necessary to enter on the questions suggested by 
the lengthened and shortened forms of this tense. These do not 
at all affect the present inquiry. 

IV. — ^npEs^i and npgsi. 

Having considered the tenses separately, we now come to view 
them in combination. This will lead to a discussion as to the real 
character of the \ conversive, which has occasioned so much per- 
plexity to grammarians. If our theory furnishes a satisfactory 
explanation of the diflSculties connected with this part of the sub- 
ject, this will go far to establish its truth. 

1. npB^i. 

The explanation of this form may be introduced by the notice 
of some other usages of a similar kind. The np&^ form is employed 
after — 

1. IK. Numb. xxi. 17, i^N'j^J "i^p^ t«, then Israel sang. Dent, 
iv. 41, nKto ^^"jji^ TK, then divided Moses. In these examples, as 
in others already adduced, the use of the future seems to intimate 
progression in the narrative. The events recorded in these pas- 
sages are described as future in relation to those recorded imme- 
diately before. This particle is not alwavs connected with the 
future tense. It is used also with the np& lorm, especially by the 
later writers. In such cases the idea of futurity is not prominent, 
as usually in the former. 

p- This third class is not found in the earlier editions of Gesenius' Grammar, 
and it had better have been omitted in the later. 

2. 



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1849. ] of the Hebrew Verb. 825: 

2. trn. Gen. xix. 4, «3|5?? on©, before they lay down ; lit. they 
to lie down. 1 Sam. iii. 3, njlpj Djp, before the lamp went out. 
Exod. X. 7, in© DTDPj, dost thou not yet know, or rather, is it not 
yet thou to know. £xod. xii. 34, f^ry\ Dno, before it was leavened. 
In such usages we perceive the operation of the same principle. 

3. DB^iD, |>KD. Gen. ii. 10. ir)^\ Dtfp from thence it is divided 
— the writer standing, as it were, at the point where the separa- 
tion commences and following the course of the river. Judg. xvii. 
9. Kbn j;kc whence hast thou come ? — the mind of the speaker 
being fixed on the starting point. 

4. 1B^, f'fefS. Deut. i. 33. an-O^jF) ^\^ ip;?. the way in which ye 
went, «^in being future in relation to the beginning of the journey. 
Exod. i. 12, r\y\\ t5 \r\\^ ^SJ?^ ik^KD the more they afflicted them the 
more they grew. The eye of the writer is fixed on the beginning 
of their troubles and describes them onward from that point in 
their increasing severity. 

5. nS)^, JD-^y. 1 Sam. ii. 23. |Jib»jn rvoh Why do ye (Eli ad- 
dressing his sons) or why continue ye to do — the use of the par- 
ticle n»^ leading the speaker back to the cause, and therefore to 
the beginning of their wickedness. So also ver. 29 ; 1 Sam. xvii. 
8, &c. ; Gen. x. 9 ; 1 Sam. xix. 24 ; npK* p-by therefore it is 
commonly said — the cause being prominent before the writer's 
mind. 

6. DK. Exod. xl. 37. When the cloud was taken up (rt^jjfna) 
they went onward. . . .but if the cloud were not taken up (i6"D«l 
\Wi •^•^r) *^®^ ^^®y journeyed not Jiyp? fc6l. 

In all these passages the future tense is employed, though 
there is in all, according to our mode of thinking, a past reference ; 
and although in most, if not all, we would employ the past tense. 
The explanation is simple upon the principles already stated. 

Anotoer step leads to the solution of the difficulties connected 
with the 1 conversive. The same principle which we have been 
tracing in so many minute forms of construction is here seen ope- 
rating in its full extent. 

As the ftiture tense is often employed without i to denote a 
purpose or design, so it is, as might be expected, when connected 
with 1. Exod. ii. 7. Let me go and call a Hebrew woman that 
she may nurse (p?^ni) lit. and she to nurse. So ver. 20, call him 
that he may eat bread (SsN^l). Exod. viii. 4. Entreat Jehovah 
that he may take away ("ipjl) the frogs from me and my people that 
I may send (nn^^^l) the people away, that they may sacrifice . 

VOL. IV. — ^NO. VIII. z (^"?.??1) 



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326 ObtervoHom m ike Tenses [Oct 

Oniif^l) to Jeboyah, lit Entreat Jehovah . . . and he to take . . . 
and I to send . . . and they to sacrifice.'! 

In all these passages there is a future reference even on our 
method of determining time ; and the explanation of them is, 
therefore, simple. The difficulty lies in another class of j^assages 
in which the reference, according to our mode of thintin^ and 
speaking, is necessarily to past time, and yet the npfi^ form is em- 
ployed. Examples of this construction occur in every page, 
almost in every clause, of the Hebrew scriptures. Thus Deut 
ix. 15 T^^?J t8«i and I turned and went down, ver. 21 ^Tk^J *?D5^ 
I took and burned. 

This has always been one of the principal difficulties connected 
with the syntax of the Hebrew language ; and yet I cannot but 
think that the explanation of it on the principle already suggested 
is extremely simple. Suppose Moses, in his address to the 
Israelites, throws nimself back on the times of which he speaks, 
and describes the various incidents as if they were taking place 
before the eyes of the people, then we may at once perceive the 
reason of his employing the future form. The first example, lite- 
rally rendered, will be, * then I to turn and I to go down ;* and 
the second ^ I take and I to bum ;' the future tense being em- 
ployed to denote the succession of events — ^the futurity of the one 
to the other. This difficult construction, therefore, so far frona 
being at variance with tiie principles of the language, is, on the 
contrary, a legitimate application and carrying out of them, 
though, when measured by the standard of other languages, it 
appears somewhat anomalous. 

npa^l most frequently follows the IpB form, but not uniformly. 
It is also found following the participle, and sometimes the verb 
preceding must be supphed. 

1. npB^I following npB form. Exod. xxxi. 17, K^ejfing^ he 
rested and was refreshed, lit. he rests, and [as the consequence of 
resting] he to be refreshed, or then he is refreshed. 

2. npB^i following participle. 1 Sam. ii. 6 SjJl3l«<K^ n*"rttD he 
bringing down to Hades and he to bring up. Tlus construction 
we might anticipate, as there is so close a connection between the 
npB form and the participle ; in both the idea of present time being 
prominent. 

3. npB^i following implied verb. Exod. ii. 16. And to the 
priest of Midian seven oaughters njK^Jsjl n^nnj njNnril and they 
go and draw and fill. In the first clause the substantive veiHb 
must be supplied to complete the construction : thus illustrating 

•1 See also Exod. iii. 10; jv. 23; vi. 11 ; vii. 19, 26; viii. 4; x. 3, 7,- xxxv. 10 
Nam. z. 35; ziii. 30; Deot. is. 14; x. 2, 11*; 2 Sam. iiL 8, 21 ; Lament ii. IS. 

our 



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1849.] of the Hebrew Verb. 327 

our theory still farther, since, where there is nothing to denote 
past or future time, the natural conclusion is that present time is 
meant. This I believe to be uniformly the case when the verb is 
omitted, as here. 

When a sentence begins with the npB form, the participle, or 
the implied verb, that first verb may be followed by any number 
of others in the form ipB'^l each describing an action or state 
future in relation to that mentioned immediately before. For the 
same reason '\pt^'*\ not unfrequently follows an infinitive, the infi- 
nitive and future being closely allied. Deut. ix. 9. nnnn '*ri>SA 
3g^Kj ... in my to ascend the mount . . . and I to remain, ver. 
23. n»ni . . . 7m\ nV?^ in Jehovah to send, then ye to murmur. 
The rationale of this construction is obvious. 

It seems, therefore, that this diflSculty in Hebrew syntax is 
entirely removed by the application of the principle here de- 
scribed. On this subject the translator of Rodiger's Gesenius* 
Grammar has the following curious note: — 'This construction 
may perhaps be accounted for by supposing that what was thus 
put in the future was conceived of as relatively future, L e. as 
later than and subsequent to what had been expressed by the pre- 
ceding preterite. This conjectures^ he adds, ' will obviously hold 
good in the first example given above, viz. Gen. iv. 1.' There is 
an air of ori^nality about the remark that is truly amusing, con- 
sidering that the conjecture, which the author so cautiously 
hazards, is as old as the hills. No doubt the conjecture is well 
founded ; and my object has been to trace this particular form of 
construction to a general principle, extensively pervading the 
structure of the language. 

In the explanation here ffiven it is implied that the ipB form 
denotes present time : by which I do not mean that the idea of 
the present is very prominent and emphatic, but simply that it 
enters into it — a present action and an action done being, ac- 
cording to my view of the Hebrew mode of thinking and speaking, 
much the same thing. This view of the subject is confirmed by 
turning from the tpa^i to the ipBl form. 

2. npBi. 

This form seems to have occasioned less diflSculty than the 
other. There are in all languages analogous forms of expression ; 
that is, the present tense is not unfrequently employed to denote 
an emphatic future. In such expressions as ' Adopt this measure 
and you are safe,' the present tense is employed to denote the 
necessary connection between safety and the adoption of tJie mea- 
sure spoken of And indeed in cases where the connection is by 

z 2 no 



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328 Observations on the Tenses [Oct. 

no means so close, we frequently omit the continaed indication of 
future time. 

So in Hebrew. When a future series of events is described, 
the futurity of the series is indicated by the first verb, or somo 
term connected with it, and in those that follow the present tense 
is adopted — the use of the present denoting the intimate con- 
nection between the members of the series. Gen. iii. 22. And 
now lest he put forth his hand (jh^i) and take also of the tree of 
life (nglfl) and eat (^5Ki) and (>m) live for ever. Deut. vii. 12, 13. 
If ye shall hearken (pvpj^in) to tiiese judgments and keep (DJP)"loe^) 
and do them (djtj^?^), the Lord shall keep (lOf^l) his covenant . . . 
and love thee and bless thee and multiply thee ^^nn^ 1?13^ 15»1^1 
• . . all these being regarded as necessary and contemporaneous 
results of hearkening to God's commandments. 

Now, whether we regard the npa and npa^ forms as denoting 
past and future, or perfect and imperfect, or past and present, the 
explanation of this construction is by no means satisfactory. But, 
suppose them to denote present and future, the solution of the 
difficulty is very simple — the first verb denoting the futurity of 
the series, the others the close connection of its parts. 

In the examples which I have given npai follows the future 
tense. That is the usual construction. But to this general rule 
there are many exceptions. 

1. npBl sometimes follows the infinitive. This we might natu- 
rally expect, as the future seems to be simply the infinitive with 
the pronominal prefixes. Thus, Exod. i. 16, When ye do the 
office of a midwife (pn^!?) . . . and see (to^«*yj). Exod. vii. 5, 
Wlien I stretch out Onb^a) my hand and bring forth (>riNX^n^) the 
children of Israel. 

2. Still more frequently ipai follows the imperative, which, as 
has been noticed, is closely connected with the infinitive and 
future, and always includes the idea of futurity. Exod. vii. 26. 
Prp^\ N'n go and speak. Deut. i. 16. D^ilpep^^ pfaB^ hear and 
judge. Judg. iv. 6 Jn5efe-1 '^^ go and draw. Haggai i. 8. 
Dri«nni h)l go up and bring. In such cases the imperative re- 
lates to some future action, while the present tense following it 
describes the object of the command or the immediate conse- 
quence of the action ' 

3. When the participle is employed to denote a certain future 
action or state, regarded on account of its certainty as present, it 
is often followed by npei. Gen. xvii. 19. Sarah thy wife beget- 

' Bee also Exod. iii. 16 ; xxviii. 2 ; Num. iii. 6, 46 ; xiii. 17 ; Deut. x. I ; Judg. 
iv. 20; I Sam. iii. 9; vi. 7, 8; xii. 24; xiv. 34; xxii. 5; xxiii. 2, 23; xxv. 5; 
2 Sam. i. 9 ; 2 Kings v. 10. 

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1849.] of the Hebrew Verb. 329 

ting (nn^^) and thou shalt call (nwnjjl)- Exod xvii. 6. I shall 
stand (npV *jjn) at the rock . . . and thou shalt smite (n^snj). 
Micah i. 3. yr\\ T)^\ nv^ r\\n] Jehovah coming and he goeth down 
and treadeth. In such cases' the participle is employed to indi- 
cate that the event is as certain as if actually present, and npBl 
denotes the immediate consequence. 

4. For the same reason npB) sometimes follows the present 
tense, that tense being used, like the participle, to denote some- 
thing future, yet so certain as to be accounted present. Gen. 
xvii, 20, ^n^^ini \rk wn^nj ^n^ ^jppia nan lo 1 I (shall) bless him 
and make him fruitful and great^that being the necessary conse- 
quence of the blessing.* 

5. For the same reason npai sometimes follows a sentence where 
the verb must be supplied. Exod. vi. 6, *n&<>fin] mnj ♦?«. ' I 
Jehovah and I brinff you out, the present tense expressing the 
certainty of their deliverance when Jehovah was on their side. 
Deut. vi. 5, Jehovah our God [is] one God Mnw), therefore thou 
(shalt) love. . . . See also Num. iv. 5, 25 ; xiv. 40. 

In all this variety of usage the same leading principle is pre- 
dominant. The present tense is employed to denote the coinci- 
dence in time, or at least the closeness of connection, of the action 
described with that which precedes. In describing a past series 
of events, the Hebrew writers descend with the course of events 
and indicate the progression at every step. This they do by 
employing the future tense. Whereas, in describing a series yet 
future, they look forward on it as a whole, being more careful to 
set forth the intimate connection of the parts than their exact suc- 
cession in time the one to the other. In such cases, therefore, 
they usually begin with the future tense, or at least some indica- 
tion of the futurity of the series — ^and in the remainder the present 
is employed. 

On the same principle it is that in Hebrew the principal word 
is usually placed at the beginning of the sentence — sometimes 
absolutely, sometimes in closer connection with the rest of the 
sentence.** The object spoken of is by this arrangement brought 
prominently before the mind of the speaker ; and whatever is 
affirmed of it is affirmed as of a present object. This is but a 
legitimate application of the General Principle explained, and yet 

• See also Exod. vii. 17 ; xvi. 4 ; xxxiv. 11 ; Deut. iv. 22 ; 1 Sam. ii 14, 81 ; xi. 
3 ; xxiv. 5 ; Zech. ii. 13 ; iii. 9 ; yiii. 8. 

* See also I Sam. ix. 8 ; xii. 2 ; xxiv. 11 ; Num. xiv. 8 ; Zech. iii. 3. 

"^ For examples of this arrangement, on which the following observations are 
fomided, see Exod. ix. 30; Num. i. 50; Judg. i. 16, 30, 31, 33; ii. 21 ; 1 Sam. i. 
2, 5, 9, 10, 13; ii. 5, 11 ; x. 16, 19; xvi. 7; xvii. 3, 12, 14, 16; xxviii. 11, 15; 
Hagg. i. 10; Zech. ii. 9.* 

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330 Observations an the Tenses [Oct 

it introduces a variety in the use of the tenses which at first 
appears not in exact accordance with the views which have been 
suggested. 

It is only when the i usually called conversive is immediately 
connected with the verb that the tenses are employed in the 
manner explained — the future in the narration of past events, and 
the present in the intimation of future events. If any other word 
comes between the i with which the clause commences and the 
verb, immediately the tense is changed ; the present is employed 
in history, the future in prophecy. 

This apparent difficulty, however, tends strongly to confirm the 
preceding remarks, as will appear, if we consider it somewhat 
more fiilly. 

3. npB^i changed into ipa 1. 

This change takes place — 

1. When the idea expressed by the verb is not the most pro- 
minent, that to which the mind of the speaker is chiefly directed. 

1 Sam. viii. 5, ID^n fc6 ?|^J5^ rijgj nt^^ Thou art old and thy sons 
walk not in thy steps. 

1 Sam. xvii. 1, 2, D^np^^ ^^P^l\ And the Philistines gathered 
together ; )BpM| ^K*^. ^») h^H^ And Saul and the men of Israel 
were gathered. In this second clause the eye is directed to Saul 
and the men of Israel as opposed to Uie Philistines.^ 

There are, of course, cases in which it is difficult to determine 
which term is most emphatic, and in such cases either arrange- 
ment may be adopted. 

2. When fe6 or some other adverb is connected with i. 

Judg. iii. 28, nbj!^ B^K WW nS) n?^!! and they took [the 

fords] and did not permit, &c. 

Judg. iii. 29, K^6< o^pj fe6) ^321 and they smote. . . .and a 

man was not saved. 

Exod. V. 1, pqwj n0D ^K3 nn^j and afterwards came Moses and 
Aaron. 

Deut. ix. 16, DljKDn n.|n) 6<1kj and I looked and lo I ye sinned. 

Gen. xi. 9 Dy^an Df^ and from thence he scattered them.y 

On the principle explained these vgirieties of construction pre- 
sent no difficulty : indeed, it is only on that principle that they 

* See also Exod. xxxvi. 27, 28; xxxviii. 22; Nam. i. 18, 47; U. 33; iii. 4; 
xiii. 28 ; xiv. 44 ; Dent. ix. 8, 10 ; x. 6, 10 ; 'Judg. i. 8, 26, 29 ; ii. 2 ; iii. 24, 26 ; 
iv. 10; iii. 19, 20; 1 Sam. i. 22 ; ▼!. 14; yii. 10; ix. 2; xi. 6; xiii. 5, 11 ; xx. 41; 
xxii. 10 ; xxiy. 8 ; xxviii 3 ; xxx. 1 ; xxxi. 1 ; 2 Sam. i. 1,4; ii. 8, 13, 24, 29, 36 ; 
UL 22 ; Zech. iii. 3. 

y See also Deut i. 26, 43, 45 ; ii. 30 ; iii 26 ; ix. 23 ; Nam. xiy. 22; Judg. L 27; 
ii. 14, 17 ; 1 Sam. x. 21 ; xi. 11 ; xviii. 2; xxviii. 6 ; 2 Sam. ii. 19, 21. 

can 



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1849.] ofthe Hebrew Verb. 331 

can be satisfactorily accounted for. If the Hebrew writers 
descend, as I have supposed, with the stream of events, and, in 
order to indicate the progression in time, employ usually the 
future tense in close connection with the copulative i, we easily 
perceive how, when an object has been already brought promi- 
nently before the mind and viewed and spoken of as a present 
object, the future tense is jaecessaril v superseded by the present — 
the design of the writer being, in sucn case, not so much to indicate 
the progression of events as to make some affirmation with regard 
to tnis particular object. — This is still more necessary when there 
is no succession in time, but only in thought, as in several of the 
examples given above. 

So also with the examples given under the second head. The 
use of these particles tends, as it were, to bring forward the time, 
and thus renders the employment of the future unnecessary, 
rjjn brings the object at once before us. n^ and nfp fix our 
place, and that at the point spoken of. ^nn and J3"^nqN involve 
the idea of futurifrjr. And fc6, which always precedes the verb, 
and takes from it its positive character, renders the indication of 
time, in such cases, unnecessary. 

There is so great a uniformity in this usage, that we may 
justly fix upon a proper and satisfactory solution of it as the best 
test of the various theories which have been proposed. 

* From what haB been said,' remarks Professor Lee,' ^ it must 
have appeared that the writer, placing both himself and his reader 
in times contemporary with the events of which he is treating, can 
supply the deficiency of tenses apparent in the Hebrew paradigm 
— an expedient often resorted to, indeed, by tlie Latin and Greek 
historians without the necessity which presents itself here. We 
must not suppose, however, from this circumstance that they never 
recur to the original time from which they set out. This they 
seem to do aptionallt/, just as we find it done in the Greek and 
Latin historians.' And here he refers to Gen. i. 5, £xod. xvi. 24, 
examples similar to those given above, in which npa^i becomes 
npB— -1. 

Now, with the first sentence of this paragraph we agree 
entirely, believing it to be precisely the principle which the 
Hebrew writers adopted. But, with all deference to Dr. Lee, we 
object, in toto, to the latter clause, and cannot but be surprised 
that Dr. Lee should have written it. To say that the Hebrew 
writers recur to their own times, just as the Greek and Latin 
historians do, is certainly a most extraordinary statement. Dr. 
Lee has given no explanation whatever of the real facts of the 

* GramnuuTf heisL zvii. 

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332 Observations on the Tenses [Oct. 

case. He has not hinted at the extreme regularity of the con- 
struction. He has given no reason why the nj» form is employed, 
only when separated from the connecting particle. He has left 
us to suppose that the Hebrew writers vary the use of the forms 
optionally ; whereas, in almost every case, we are able to perceive 
and assign the reason of the change. For instance, he translates 
Gen. i. 5, * And God calls Knp^j the light day ; but the darkness 

he called night ing i.' This might do very well in a few cases 

scattered here and there, as in the Greek and Roman writers. 
But why is there such a uniformity in the Hebrew usage ? Why 
is the Kip^ necessarily joined with i, and the Knp form necessarily 
disjoined from it? On Dr. Lee's theory, ingenious as it un- 
questionably is, there is no satisfactory reply to this question. 

But applying the principle contained in the first sentence of the 
extract given above to the explanation of this usage, on the 
supposition that the npa and npEs* forms, instead of past and 
present, are present and fixture respectively, we have at once the 
reason of the change of tense and of the close connection between 
the npB> form and the copulative pai*ticle. 

Again, Ewald ^ thus adverts to the usage we are considering : 
* There are cases in which these two forms, though possible as to 
the idea, are nevertheless abrogated, and yield to the simple ones. 
For, in these forms, the Vav and the verbal form are most inti- 
mately and inseparably united. If then another word than the 
verb IS necessarily driven to the beginning of the proposition, so 
that the copula can only be attached to it, but the verb follows, 
then that combination is broken up, and the whole form is 
destroyed at the same time: the members of the combination, 
therefore, then appear simple and naked ; the simple copula and 
the apipropriate simple tense which would be used without this 
successive consequence.' My only remark on this passage is, that 
it contains simply a statement of the difficulty, not an explanation 
of it. 

4. nj^i changed into npD* i. 

This change likewise takes place — 

1. When an emphatic word or clause intervenes : — ^ 

Numb. i. 50, 51. j3?^i» a^nm ^niry^, Dnj--- J3f»n-n^ ^wf; n©|i 
D?lS!7 ^n*K nn\* l|f»n jbjn-l : «n! 'They shall bear the taber- 
nacle .... and thei/ [the Levites, they and they only~] shall do 
its service, and round the tabernacle they shall encamp [the 
prominent idea being their peculiar care of the tabernacle, and 

• Grammar, § 614. 

b See also Exod. xxv. 21; xxvi. 1 ; xxix. 4; Nam. i. 53^ ii. 16; iii. 10, 38; 
iv. 7, 11 ; ix. 15; x. 7, 8; xiv. 24; xix. 8; Deut. i. 39, 40; lii. 28; ix. 3; Jadg. 
ii. 2, 4 ; 1 Sam. i. 13 ; viii. 13; xxiii. 17. 

not 



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1849.] of the Hebrew Verb. 333 

not the fact of their encamping] ; and when the tabernacle 
setteth forward, the Levites shall take it down. 

2. When \lh or some other adverb is connected with i : — ^ 

1 Sam. i. 11. If thou shalt look nfrnivn^n on the affliction of 
thine handmaid and remember me ^?A*>3|4, and shalt not forget 
TX^fn vh) thine handmaid. 

Mai. iii. 1. v}\1\ D'Kn^ and suddenly shall come. 

Apply the principle we have unfolded to these forms of cour 
struction, the explanation is extremely simple. Usually, when 
the verb is connected with i its futurity is involved in the fiiturity 
of the first verb of the series ; but, when a more emphatic word is 
placed between the verb and the connecting particle, then the 
object denoted by that word is, as it were, brought prominently out 
before the eye ; and, if some ftiture action or state is predicated of 
that object, the futurity of such object or state must be distinctly 
marked. In the same manner, when the negative particle is 
connected with i, the time which had been carried along is lost, 
and the futurity of the action or state must again be marked. 
Hence, in such cases the future tense must be employed. 

In order to point out the regularity of this part of the syntax 
of the Hebrew language, I shall set down a somewhat lengthened 
passage, in which we have many examples of the npai and 
1p£)>----1 forms, and from which we may be able to discover their 
relation the one to the other. Exod. xxix. 1, &c., Moses re- 
ceives the following injimctions : ' Take one young bullock, and 
two rams without blemish, and unleavened bread and cakes 
unleavened ... of wheaten flour shalt thou make nb^p (1) 
them ; and put nnj^ (2) them into one basket, and bring them 
I39']W1 (2) .... And Aaron and his sons thou shalt bring 

a^'Tpn \ (3) unto the door of the tabernacle, and wash nynil 

(2) them with water.' [In this paragraph we have the various 
forms of expression above described. (1) Future, because 
relating to future time ; (2) Present, because present in relation 

to the verb going before ; (3) a^-ipn ], because Aaron and bis 

sons are mentioned for the first time — ^therefore prominent, there- 
fore placed between the verb and connecting particle.] *And 
thou shalt take r\ry^\ [L e. then thou takest] the garments, and 
put Fi?^3^n) upon Aaron the coat .... and gird him nnBK] with 
the curious girdle of the ephod, and put npfe^i the mitre on his 
head, and put nnjl the holy crown on the mitre, and take nng^j 
the anointing oil and pour npvj) it on his head, and anoint him 

" See also Exod. ix. 4; xxiii. 24; Num. iv. 15; vi. 20; viii. 15, 19; xi. 25; 
xiv. 35; 1 Sam. i. 11 ; viii. 18 ; zii. 14. 



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334 Observations on the Tenses of the Hebrew Verb. [Oct 

nni^. And his sons thou shalt bring 3^*$0'--l9 and put coats 
on them Dp^'^^nv' [In this paragraph the form npai is used 
nearly throughout, because the attention is directed diiefly to the 
successiye actions enjoined. There is, however, one exception, 
anpn-.-^, and the obvious reason is that *his sons' is an em- 
phatic expression, being contrasted with Aaron mentioned imme- 
diately before.] For the same reason, the form *^p^'\ is used on 
to the twelfth verse : * And thou shalt take rinj?^) of the blood of 
the bullock and put it nnn^l on the horns of the altar with thy 
finger, but all the blood thou shalt pour ijb^n-— 1 beside the 
bottom of the altar. And thou shalt take J<in^^1 all the fat ... . 
and bum them JJ'jepni on the altar. But the flesh of the bullock 
and his skin and tis dung shalt thou bum ci'ib^p-— 1 with fire. 
Then one ram thou shalt take ni5n----1,' &c. [In tliis paragraph 
1pa*----1 is three times used : (1) 'all the blood,* or rather the 
rest of the blood, is placed immediately after i, because contrasted 
with the blood sprinkled on the altar : (2) ' flesh, skin, dung/ 

Eut first, because distinguished from the fat mentioned just 
efore ; (3) ' one ram ' put first, because distinguished from the 
bullock to which the preceding verses relate. These expressions, 
being thus prominent and emphatic, are placed each in the 
beginning of the clause, and the objects denoted by them we thus 
regard as present — before our eyes ; and, therefore, the verbs 
connected with them must take the future tense, as they describe 
something yet to be done to the objects thus regarded as present.] 
This construction is followed with great exactness. 1 do not 
by any means assert that it is uniformly followed — that we never 
meet with npai when we should expect npa* — i, or with npa^ — i 
when we should expect npai. But there is sufficient uniformity 
to constitute the basis of a general rule, and to induce us to 
search for the principle on which it is founded. I know no 
principle at all adequate to the explanation of it but the prin- 
ciple which has been applied in this paper to the explanation of 
many other peculiarities of the Hebrew syntax. That principle 
furnishes an easy and satisfactory solution in this case also. 
Consider the writer as going along with the series of events : if it 
be a past series, we see at once why the historic style should be 
Tpan npa. Consider the writer, when detailing a future series, 
as viewing them grouped together, we see at once why the 
prophetic style is npBi npB*. The same principle accounts for the 
apparent anomalies in the construction of the tenses, and furnishes 
an explanation of other distinguishing peculiarities of the Hebrew 
language. 

Thoughts 



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( 


335 ) 




THOUGHTS 


ON 


THE 
OF 

Br G. 


LITERARY 
DAVID. 

, M. Beli,. 


CHARACTER 



Six piiles south from Jerusalem, on the road to Hebron, is a little 
city called Bethlehem, more generally, Bethlehem-Judah, cele- 
brated as the scene of the transactions recorded in the book of 
Ruth and the birthplace of Christ. The number of its inhabitants 
is said to be about 3000, and at the time to which I shall presently 
allude it was probably less. Situated in the heart of a fertile 
country, the surrounding valleys afforded rich and abundant pas- 
ture for flocks. The most honourable and general pursuit oi the 
neighbouring people was that of shepherds. Two thousand years 
before the birth of Christ one of the humble shepherds in this 
valley was the father of eight sons, three of whom are mentioned as 
soldiers in the army of Saul, the King of Israel, while the eighth 
andyoungest tended his father's sheep in tjie valley of Bethlehem. 

The seven eldest sons of Jesse were of goodly stature, and 
comely to look upon, but of David the youngest we have a par- 
ticular description : * He was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful 
countenance, and goodly to look to' (1 Sam. xvi. 12) ; *a comely 
person' (ver. 18) ; 'ruddy and of a fair countenance ' (xvii. 42). 
Such was his appearance when he was brought from the fields, and 
placed before oamuel, and anointed by that prophet. Upon his 
first introduction to Saul, the King of Israel, whom in the course 
of Providence he was destined to supplant in the kingdom, that 
monarch was immediately prepossessed in his favour, 'and he 
loved him greatly.' A still deeper and more enduring feeling of 
attachment was afterwards entertained for him by Jonathan, the 
son of Saul ; for ' the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of 
David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul ' (1 Sam, xviii. 1). 

At the period when he is thus introduced to our notice he would 
probably be about the age of seventeen or eighteen. He is de- 
scribed as ' a youth,' ' a stripling,' contemned by Goliath of Gath 
on account of his juvenile appearance. Previous to this time he 
had been occupied solely in the simple and innocent life of a shep- 
herd, tending the flocks of his father Jesse at Bethlehem. ELis 
youth had been spent among flocks and herds in the valleys, by the 
watercourses, and on the sides of the surrounding hills. The city 
in which his father dwelt was situated on the brow of a hill com- 
manding an extensive view of the surrounding mountainous country, 
rising in parterres of vineyards, almond-groves, and fig-plantations, 
w|i,tered by gentle rivulets, and diversified by towers and wine- 
presses. 



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386 Thouffkts on the [Oct. 

l»resses. No pasture could be more attractive to sheep than that 
which abounded in the valleys and hill-sides around Bethlehem ; 
no scenery more calculated to inspire the soul of the shepherd 
with the loftiest aspirations of devotion and love than the beauti- 
fully variegated landscape, the clear skies, and the balmy atmos- 
phere of Judah. 

In these eastern countries it was the practice to keep the sheep 
constantly in the open air, guarded by the sons and daughters of 
the owners, or by hired servants. It would be the duty of David, 
therefore, not merely to attend the sheep by day, but also fre- 
quently by night. Thus, in addition to the beauties of nature 
which were presented to his study during the day, there was also 
the, perhaps in many cases, not less attractive and solemnly im- 
pressive grandeur of the cloudless starlight night for his lonely 
meditation. The beauty of the starry heavens, heightened as it 
always is by the clear beams of the silver moon when she shines 
forth in silent majesty, is in those eastern regions an agreeable 
interchange to the sunny glades and fruitful slopes which enchant 
the senses during day ;. while the splendour of the moonlight and 
starlight is even much greater in those regions than what is wit- 
nessed in our northern latitude. 

The life of the shepherd in an eastern land, in the country of 
Syria, and around Bethlehem, where the flocks of Jesse roamed 
under the care of David, his yomigest son, was one calculated to 
bring constantly under his notice the beneficence, the wisdom, and 
the greatness of the Creator of all things. Such a life is indeed 
under any circumstances one in which, more than in any other, man 
is brought into what may be called daily and nightly communion 
with his God. He has leisure for reflection, he is removed from 
the harassing cares of the world and the active business of life, and 
all the objects presented to his contemplation are immediately and 
necessarily calculated to excite the most devotional feelings, and 
to kindle the most lofty and profound admiration. When the 
subject of these emotions is of an ardent and afiectionate tempera- 
ment, as was the case with David, the effects produced upon the 
mind are of a correspondingly deep and permanent character. 
They are never effaced by the altered scenes, the prosperity or the 
adversity of after life, but almost invariably acquire a more fixed 
hold of the imagination, and are called to remembrance upon 
every occasion of adversity, and sometimes also of joy. They are 
the green spots in a man's memory upon which he loves to look 
back as upon a beautiful and refreshing landscape. 

The lite of David was chequered with joys and sorrows, with 
prosperity and adversity ; with the loss of friends, the deceit of 
allies, the ingratitude of those he had favoured, the implacable 

resentment 



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1849.] Literary Character of David. 337 

resentment of his enemies, and the opposition and rebellion of his 
own sons. At the same time it must not be denied that bis own 
faults were many. He was of an ardent temper, of violent 
passions, gratifying his unlawful desires even by the sacrifice of 
innocent life, frequently revengeful, often cruel. But with all this 
it must be confessed he was brave. To his bravery indeed is to 
be ascribed his great success in life. Then again he was devoted 
to the fear of God. This is the grand redeeming feature in his 
character, and stamps with an extraordinary significance all the 
other events recorded in his history. In the presence of his God 
he was as a little child. His heart overflowed with tenderness. 
His soul was poured forth like the pure streams of a heavenly 
fountain. There can be no dispute about the depth, the sincerity, 
the ardour of his devotion. It is the fountain from which millions 
of human beings have since his day dnmk the most refreshing 
draughts. The ardour of his love to God is the altar from which 
thousands upon thousands have taken a live coal to kindle and 
keep alive their own affection. When his piety and devotion to 
his God are taken into account, the exceptionable parts of his 
character are altogether lost and forgotten. 

It were idle to speak of the genius of David. The testimony 
of ages has placed that in the very highest order of human talent. 
The beauty, the sublimity, and the sweetness of his compositions 
are beyond praise. They need onljr to be read to be admired. 
They, however, bear the same distinctive character which gives 
beauty, freshness, and vigour to all human compositions. They 
portray scenes, impressions, hopes, desires, and experiences 
which he had himself witnessed and felt ; and their very indivi- 
duality being eminently applicable to the various conditions of 
mankind in all ages, has secured for them the approbation and 
esteem of the whole Christian world. Wherever the Bible has 
been received there also liave the Psalms of David been wel- 
comed ; and there are districts and countries, as in Scotland, where 
one can hardly enter a single dwelling the inmates of which have 
not some of these beautiful compositions by heart, while many is 
the happy fireside where they furnish the song of morning and 
evening praise. 

David no doubt received his first and strongest impressions of 
the beauty, variety, and grandeur of natural scenery during the 
period of his youth, while he ' followed the sheep.' The ideas and 
emotions peculiar to the profession of a shepherd are expressed in 
a variety of ways throughout the Psalms ; all the different objects 
of contemplation for which such a state afforded facilities are also 
frequently alluded to. Afker he entered upon the more active 
duties of life his experiences related chiefly to the camp, to war, 

to 



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338 ThoufffUs an the [Oct 

to spoil, to government, and to kingly power. Accordingly we 
find that all these subjects enter more or less into his composi- 
tions, but the fear and the love of God as the Supreme Ruler, 
his Guide, Comforter, and Protector in all his troubles, are emi- 
nently displayed throughout the Psalms, and some of those which 
relate chiefly to the love and the praise of God are exquisitely 
beautiful. The thought must not, however, for one moment be 
admitted that David was a natural genius merely in the sense in 
which the phrase is usually applied. No man is more distinctly 
and eminently entitled to or more universally enjoys the title of 
the ' inspired penman.' It is expresslv stat-ed (1 Sam. xvi. 13) 
that after the anointing of David by iSamUel at Bethlehem * the 
Spirit of the Lord came upon David from that day forward.' His 
poetical compositions deriving much of their sweetness from his 
fine perception of the beautiful and of the grand in nature, and 
from their portraying the peculiar feelings of his own mind in 
relation to the varied and often perilous situations in which he 
was placed, yet derive their greatest excellence from the strong 
devotional feeling which pervades the greater part of them, written 
as they undoubtedly were under the influence of that very * spirit of 
the Lord ' which came upon him at the anointing of the Prophet. 
His susceptible temperament and the devotional cast of his mind 
must have made him at a very early age a favourite among the pro- 
phets, from whom he would receive not only much useiul knowledge, 
but much serious counsel as to the love and worship of God. 

All the best judges, — Lowth, Herder, De Wette, Ewald, 
Tlioluck, and others, — pronounce the poetiy of the Psalms to be 
of a lyric order, which is not only the most varied, but the most 
abundant order of ancient poetical composition, and eminently 
adapted to music. ' They are,' says De Wette, * lyric in the 
proper sense ; for among the Hebrews, as among me ancients 
generally, poetry, singing, and music were united ; and the in- 
scriptions to most of the Psalms determine their connection with 
music, though in a way not always intelligible to us. Also as 
works of taste these compositions deserve to be called lyric. The 
essence of lyric poetry is the immediate expression of feeling ; and 
feeling is the sphere in which most of the Psalms move. Pain, 
grief, fear, hope, joy, trust, gratitude, submission to God, every- 
thing that moves and elevates thq heart, is expressed in these 
songs. Most of them are the lively eflusions of the excited sus- 
ceptible heart, the fresh ofifepring of inspiration and elevation of 
thought ; while only a few are spiritless imitations and compila- 
tions, or unpoetic forms of prayer, temple hymns, and collections 
of proverbs.' 

Although the whole collection of Psalms is usually designated 

tiie 



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1849.] Literary Character of David. 

the Psalms of David, yet it is well known that they are not all the 
production of his pen ; that they are in fact a collection of psalms 
or lyrical songs by a variety of contributors, of whom David is the 
chief. In addition to David the following are the names of some 
of the other authors : — Asaph, the sons of Korah, Heman, Ethan, 
Solomon, Moses; and some of the plaintive psalms have been 
ascribed to Jeremiah. To David have been ascribed 73 psalms 
in the Hebrew text, and at least 11 others in the Septuagint. 

The Hebrew psalter is the most ancient collection of poems in 
the world, and was composed long before those in which ancient 
Greece and Rome have gloried. It is a general opinion among 
the learned that the collection as it now stands was made long 
after the death of David ; and that the prophet Ezra was the col- 
lector and compiler of them. All antiqmty is nearly unanimous in 
giving Ezra tne honour of collecting the different writings of 
Moses and of the prophets, and reducing them into that form in 
which they are now found in the Bible, and of course the psalms 
among the rest.* 

The great peculiarity of the Psalms of David, as has been 
already remarked, is their individuality, and their religious and 
devotional character, to which, no doubt, is mainly to be attri- 
buted the fact that after the lapse of so many centuries, and the 
rise and £all of so many modes oi thought, and forms of social life, 
they still enjoy the unbounded favour of Uie Christian world. 

Josephus has stated, certainly without any apparent reason from 
the character of the compositions themselves, that the Psalms 
were composed by David in the latter part of his life : — * And 
now David being freed from wars and dangers, composed songs 
and hymns to God of several sorts of metre ; some of those 
which he made were trimeters, and some were pentameters.' — 
(Antiq. vii. 12, 3.) 

The character and style of the Psalms themselves show, it is 
imagined, very clearly that they were composed at various periods 
of life, even from his youth upwards. Some of them relate to his 
pastoral life, to the beauties of nature with which he was sur- 
rounded, to the quiet stillness and loveliness of the cloudless 
night, to the care of his God over him in such scenes, to the 
peculiar features of the country where he was residing, and to 
those devotional feelings which they called forth. Others relate 
to his adventures in war, his sufferings under the treachery and 
cruelty of his enemies, his anxiety to be revenged upon his foes, 
his longings to be at peace and to enjoy the public worship of God. 
Others refer to the anguish of his mind for the many sins of which 
he was guilty, to the afiSiction of his soul under the chastisement 

* Dr. Adam Clarke's notes on the Psalms. 

of 



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340 Thtmghti an the [Oct 

of Jehovah, to the joy he experienced in the retnrmng smiles of 
his reconciled God. Some are plaintive with grief, some exu- 
berant with gratitude and delight ; and all give unquestionable 
evidence of being written at different periods of his history, and 
often under widely different emotions of mind. It is true that we 
occasionally find in the same Psalm so many different states of 
mind and circumstances pointed out, as to impress us vrith the 
conviction that they could not be the experience of one and the 
same person at the same time. This difficulty appears to be 
solved satisfactorily by Dr. Adam Clarke, who supposes that such 
Psalms were composed from memoranda or a diary of his ex- 
periences some days or short period after their occurrence. 

David was thoroughly imbued with all the peculiarities of a 
true poet, with this paramount distinction, that he was in an 
especial manner the man after God's own heart. He may not 
have ' lisped in numbers,' but he must have commenced to tune 
his lyre at a very early age. His first themes were essentially 

?Lstoral ; they were in praise of Nature and of Nature's God. 
astoral poetry is usually the first employment of the imagination 
— the first literary amusement of the young poet The occaaons 
on which purely pastoral poetry can be produced are no doubt 
few. They are also generally circumscribed. A youth confined 
to the simple pleasures of tiie country has so little diversity of 
objects, is exposed to so few vicissitudes, terrors, surprises, and 
alarms, that he can seldom produce what will attract curiosity or 
excite the passions. In the words of Dr. Johnson, his ambition is 
without policy and his love without intrigue. He has no com- 
plaint to make of his rival but that he is richer tiian himself, nor 
any disasters to lament but a cruel mistress or a bad harvest 
The poetry of David however is infinitely removed from such 
criticism by its exalted tone, its divine spirit, its pure abstraction 
from what is low, grovelling, and sensual, and its great elevation 
above the ordinary level even of the best pastorals. * The Lord 
is my shepherd ' are the very first words of one of the sweetest 
lyrics in any language, and the imagery and sacredness of the 
subsequent parts are sustained with a beauty and simplicity which 
have made their way to every heart. All his other pastorad pieces 
are written in the same divine spirit. The delineation of nature 
is happily blended with the idea of the superintending care and 
direction of the Supreme Being. 

The best poets, like the best painters, are those who are the 
closest observers of nature; who study the simplicity and the 
beauty, and the majesty of the works of God ; who have an eye 
to discern the beauty of the modest cowslip, as well as to notice 
the grandeur of the towering pine. The same faculty of close 

observation, 



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1849.] Literary Chxiracter of David. 841 

observation, of correct description, and of lofty piety pervades 
the whole of the Psalms of David, whether they refer to the 
anxieties and dangers with which he was surrounded, or to the 
joys and consolations he experienced. Whether he deprecates 
the punishment of his sins — * O Lord, rebuke me not in thine 
anger ;' — or rejoices in the prospect of their forgiveness — ' Bless 
the Lord, O my soul,' — whatever be the object or occasion of the 
psalm, the same deep perception of the beautiful in nature, the 
same lofty idea of the sovereignty of his Maker pervades the whole. 

It has been justly remarked that in almost all countries the 
most ancient poets are considered the best. Whether this arises 
from the circumstance that every other kind of knowledge is only 
gradually attained, and that poetry is a gift conferred at once ; 
or that the first poetry so far surprised by its novelty as to retain 
by consent that approval which it may be supposed to have re- 
ceived as it were by accident ; or whether, as the true province of 
poetry is to describe nature and passion, which are in all ages 
more or less the same, the first writers monopolized those ideas 
and beauties which subsequent authors could only imitate and 
rarely improve ; — whether any or all of these circumstances are 
calculated to account for the result, the fact is beyond dispute 
that to the ancients is generally ascribed the possession of nature, 
and to their followers perfection in art.^ Now as regards the 
book of Psalms, its pretensions to antiquity are of the very highest 
order, it having been composed, as already observed, long before 
those collections of poems in which ancient Greece and Rome 
have gloried. Its claims to the veneration and love of mankind 
are also infinitely beyond those of any other human composition. 
To all the aids of mere intellectual ability there is superadded 
the direct inspiration of the spirit of God, and there can be no con- 
dition of life, no emotion of the mind where they are not calcu- 
lated to afibrd consolation and delight. Their language is not 
tile language of any one city or country^ but it is the language of 
Christian souls in all ages of the world. 

David was imbued with a love of music as well as of poetry. 
He was himself no mean performer upon the harp, as was shown 
in the influence of his strains in soothing the perturbed spirit of 
Saul. Many of the Psalms were expressly written and adapted 
for both vocal and instrumental performance : — * Sing unto the 
Lord with the harp ; with the harp and the voice of a psalm. 
With trumpets and sound of cornet, make a joyftil noise before 
the Lord tne King ' (Ps. xcviii. 4, 5). * Praise him with the 
sound of a trumpet ; praise him with the psaltery and harp ; 
praise him with the timbrel and dance ; praise him with stringed 

^ Johnson. 

VOL. IV.— NO. VIII. 2 A instruments 



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342 Thought$ on the Literary Character of David, [Oct. 

instruments and organs ; praise him upon the loud ^mbals, praise 
him upon the high^souncUng cymbals (Ps, d.). From our own 
experience of the overpowering effects and the high devotional 
feelings produced by tne singing of the psalms by a fiill choir, 
when accompanied by the orgai^ or other instrumental music, in 
our churches at the present day, it is not difficult to understand 
how animating must have been the influence of those services at 
Jerusalem in which the Poet-King himself often joined ; nor to 
form an opinion of the still more splendid effects of the Temple 
service in the days of Solomon, when the Levites in their several 
choirs performed their music divided into classes. 

It has been trul v remarked by Bishop Home that * the Psalms 
are an epitome of the Bible adapted to the puiposes of devotion. 
They treat occasionally of the creation and tormation of the 
world ; the dispensations of Providence, and the economy of grace ; 
the transactions of patriarchs ; the exodus of the children of Israel ; 
their journey through the wilderness, and settlement in Canaan ; 
their law, priesthood, and ritual ; the exploits of their great men, 
wrought through faith ; their sins and captivities ; their repent- 
ances and restorations ; the sufferings and victories of David ; the 
peaceful and happy reign of Solomon ; the advent of the Messiah, 
with its effects and consequences ; his incarnation, birth, life, pas- 
sion, death, resurrection, ascension, kingdom, priesthood ; the 
eflusion of the Spirit ; the conversion of the nations ; the rejection 
of the Jews ; the establishment, increase, and perpetuity of the 
Christian Church ; the end of the world ; the general judgment ; 
the condemnation of the wicked, and the final triumph of tite 
righteous with their Lord and King.'* 

The literary excellencies of David are, that his ideas are clearly 
aid consecutively expressed, his images natura,! and boldly drawn, 
his language simple and effective. His compositions speak at 
once to the heart and the feelings. They neither tire the atten- 
tion, fatigue the imderstanding, nor outrage the judgment. They 
are less imaginative than real, less worldly than heavenly, less 
human than divine. They are the fountain and well-spring of 
true poetry, whence the young disciple of the Muses may draw 
the best examples and tne richest instruction, fuid where the 
veteran poet may learn to chasten his style, enlarge his ideas, and 
elevate his thoughts. 

' I know nothing,' says Dr. Adan^ Clarke, * like the book of 
Psalms. It contains all the lengths, breadths, depths, and heights 
of the patriarchal. Mosaic, and Christian dispensations. It is the 
most useful book in the Bible, and is every way worthy of the 
wisdom of God.' 

" Preface to Commentary on the Book of Psalms, 

Davidson's 



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1849.] C 343 ) 



DAVIDSON'S INTRODUCTION TO THE NEW 
TESTAMENT. 

An Introduction to the New Testament^ containing an examination of 
the most important questions relating to the AtUhority^ Interpretaiiony 
and Integrity of the Canonical Boohs^ with reference to the latest 
inquiries. By Samoel Davibson, D.D. of the University of 
Halle, and LL.D. Vol. ii. ITieActs of the Apostles to the Second 
epistle to the Thesscdonians, London : Samuel Bagster and Sons, 
1849. 

In this volume Dr. Davidson carries on his work from the Acts of 
the Apostles to the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians (inclusive). 
The subjects considered under the heads of the several books possess a 
general resemblance to those discussed in the Introduction to the 
Four Gospels (see this Journal, No. lY., p. 342). In treating of the 
Gospels, and the questions which have arisen with regard to them, Dr. 
Davidson had to meet a vast quantity of that scepticism which has so 
especially assailed the historic records of our religion. In the 
Epistles of the New Testament the case, however, is very different. 
Here we find many documents, the authenticity of which is admitted 
even by the greater proportion of those who have relentlessly attacked 
the Gospels. This circumstance necessarily impresses a somewhat 
different character on the volume now before us. 

We believe that many biblical students will hail the appearance of 
this volume as a worthy successor of that which the learned and re- 
spected author had already published. Many will gladly learn what 
the questions are which are now discussed by scholars of various 
countries, and of many habits of thoi^ht, with r^ard to those books 
of the New Testament which follow the Gospels. And as to objections 
which have been raised to books, or parts of books, the student will be 
able here to learn what the objections are, and how they may be met. 

We deprecate a morbid appetite for the works of opponents of re- 
velation; a mind may become unconsciously poisoned by familiar 
association with rationalism — but we also deprecate that self-satisfied 
ignorance which tries to exclude all knowledge of danger, and whicli 
would substitute blindness for security. As inquiries with regard to 
Scripture have been so widely taken up by men of learning and re- 
search, who are really opposed to Scripture and to all revelation, and 
as these inquiries are more and more made known, it is in a manner 
incumbent on the friends of Scripture and Bevelation to know what 
those inquiries are— to meet the cavils which might injure the unin-* 
structed, and to obtain such a fundamental knowledge of the whole 
subject as shall (through God's blessing) be a safeguard against the 
inroads of cavillers. Of one thing we may be sure, self-satisfied blind- 
ness is no safeguard for ourselves or for others in such cases. 

2 A 2 We 



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344 DavidsavLS Introduction to [Oct 

We therefore rejoice that in the midst of pressing avocations (and 
also of personal sorrow),* Dr. Davidson has completed his second 
volume at an earlier period than he evidently contemplated, when he 
wrote his Preface to the first volume. Having this Introduction we 
have no occasion to direct any inquirer to doubtful and rationalistic 
sources of information, to works in which we find a strange and me- 
lancholy union of extraordinary learning and exceptionable sentiment. 
Dr. Davidson tells us what the arguments are by which Scripture 
is assailed ; he instructs how such ailments are met and refuted ; 
he introduces to those points of investigation by which a really 
accurate knowledge of the Scripture may be attained. Most sincerely 
do we trust that his labours will be amply appreciated, and that a more 
extensive acquaintance with the whole range of biblical inquiry may 
.again be found in this country. We are fully aware that learning 
by itself cannot produce this ; but learning is a valuable accompani- 
ment of that sanctification of the heart and reverence for the word of 
God, which those only can know who have trusted in that Saviour of 
whom the Scripture testifies. 

In conside