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bE^^ 


ALLEN  COUNTY  PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


3  1833  01736  5682 


GENEALOGY 
929.102 

yiseMMD 

1910, 
JAN-MAY 


THE 


METHODIST  REVIEW 


(BIMONTHLY) 


VOLUME  XCII.— FIFTH  SERIES,  VOLUME  XXVI 


WILLIAM  V.  KELLEY,  L.H.D.,  Editor 


CiKciNNATi:  Je^tninqs  h  Grahajh 
New  Yobk:   Eaton  &  Mai:n8 


^'1 


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"^Of 


CONTENTS  OF  THE  VOLUME 


JANUARY— FEBRUARY 

rAox 

THE  MESSAGE  OF  BAPTISM 9 

Professor  J.  A.  FAOLKNEa,  D.D.,  Drew  Theological  Beiainary,  Uadison,  N.  J. 

THE  BISHOP  A  MEMBER  IN  THE  GENERAL  CONFERENCE— A  STUDY       25 
RoBEBT  T.  MiLi£B,  LL.D.,  Cincinnati,  O. 

THE  CIVIC  VALUE  OF  THE   OLD  TESTAMENT. 4A 

WALLA.CB  MacMdllen,  D.D.,  New  York,  N.  Y. 

THOMAS  ARNOLD  AT  OXFORD:  A  RETROSPECT 55 

Professor  Jaues  Maik  Dixon,  F.R.8.,  Univereiiy  of  Southeni  California,  Los 
Angeles,  Cal. 

VISIONS  OF  THE  CHRIST 65 

Professor  Oscab  Kuhjs-b,  Pb.D.,We8leyan  University,  Middletown,  Conn.  _ 

BROWNING   AND    OMAR  KHAYYXm 77 

Professor  A.  W.  Crawtokd,  Ph.D.,  University  of  Manitoba,  Winnipeg,  Canada. 

THE  PRACTICE  OF  ROMAN  COURTS  AS  SEEN  IN  THE  PROSECUTION 

OF  VERRES - .  •       90 

E.  B.  T.  Bpkncbb,  A.iL,  Collegio  Uetodieta,  Rome,  Italy. 

BHAKESPEAREANA 102 

Professor  T.  W.  H€NT,  Ph.D.,  Princeton  Univeraity,  Princeton,  N.  J. 

LA  SAISIAZ 114 

Professor  H.  J.  Hootsb,  Ph.D.,  Baker  University,  Baldwin,  Kan. 

EDITORIAL  DEPARTMENTS: 

Notes  and  Discussions 1-0 

The  Message  of  the  Fathers.  121. 

Thb  Arena - 131 

A  Worthy  Creed,  131;  The  Young  People's  Society,  132. 

Tbb  Itinerants'   Club 134 

Christ's  Teaching  Concerning  Almsgiving  and  Prayer.  134. 

AsciLiEOLoaT    and  Biblical  Research 137 

A  New  Collection  of  Ancient  Texts,  137. 

Foreign  Outlook. 142 

The  Conservative  Tendency  of  Old  Testament  Scholarehip,  142. 

GLIMP3E3    OF   ReVTEWB  AND   MaGAZTNIS 145 

Book  Notices 153 

Thomas's  Chriatianitv  is  Christ,  153;  Macfarland's  The  Christian  Ministry  and  the 
Social  Order,  15G;  McFadyen's  Tlio  (  ify  witli  P'oundations,  159;  Youn-'s  To-Day: 
An  Ane  of  Opnortuniry,  Ifil;  Bacheller's  The  Masfcr,  16.>;  Rosiers's  Propliecy  ami 
Poetry,  168;  Chesterton's  Geor^s  Bernard  Shaw,  109;  Crofhers's  Oliver  Wendell 
Hohnea,  172;  Warren's  The  Earliest  Coemologiea,  174;  Watkine's  Young  Life  of  Fa- 
moas  Folk,  176. 


Contents  of  the  Volume 


MARCH— APRIL 


I.  JESUS  OR  CHRIST? 177 

Profeeaor  Bobobn  P.  Bowne,  LL.D.,  Boston  University,  Boaton.  UaM. 

II.  THEOLOGY  AND  THE  HISTORICAL  METHOD 194 

Rev.  H.  F.  Rall,  Ph.D..  Baltimore.  Md. 

in.  A  FRIEND  OF  LAMB'S:  WILLIAM  HAZLIIT 211 

H.  T.  Bakbb,  A.m.,  Beloit  College.  Beloit,  Wis. 

IV.  DENOMINATIONAL  CONTROL  OF  COLLEGES 224 

Tbouas  Nicholson,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Eda- 
eation  of  the  Methodiat  Episcopal  Church,  New  York.  N.  Y. 

V.  THE  CASE  OF  THE  METHODIST  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH 234 

R.  J.  Cooke,  D.D..  Book  Editor  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 

VI.  THE  SPIRITUAL  BEAUTY  OF  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  EVOLUTION..     258 
A.  J.  Ltman,  D.D..  Brooklyn.  N.  Y. 

Vn.  THE  HOLY  CATHOLIC  CHURCH 266 

G.  M.  Hammeli.,  D.D.,  Cincinnati.  O. 

VIII.  A  NEW  ESSAYIST 269 

Charijis  L.  Goodell,  D.D.,  New  York,  N.  Y. 

IX.  MUSIC  AND  WORSHIP 280 

Rev.  S.  F.  Davi^,  A.M..  Elizabeth,  N.  J. 

EDITORIAL  DEPARTMENTS: 

Notes  and  Dibcxtssions 290 

Richard  Wat«on  Gilder  on  Ideals  of  Life,  290. 

The  Arbna 300 

Bishope  in  the  General  Gonferencei  300;  Answers  to  Prayer  for  Temporal  Things,  301. 

The  iTiisrERANTs'   Club 303 

Sermonic  Literature,  303;  English  Versions  of  The  Lord's  Prayer,  304. 

AaCHiBOLOGT    AND     BlBLICAL   RESEARCH 308 

The  Ponti&oal  Biblical  Institute,  808;  Notes  from  Rome,  312. 

Foreign  Outlook 313 

Newest  Aspects  of  the  Study  of  the  History  of  Dogma,  313. 

Glimpses  oe  Revtewb  and  Maoazixes 317 

Book  Notices 321 

What  la  ChriatianitvT  321;  Tiadall's  Comparative  Relizion,  323;  Horton's  Great  Issues, 
327;  Thomnaon'a  Shellov,  330;  Ri-cklev's  The  Wron?  and  Peril  of  Woman  Snffracre. 
333;  Gladden's  Ileco! lections,  335;  A  Memoir  of  the  Right  Honorable  William 
Edward  HartpoleXieoky,  340;  Faust's  The  German  Element  in  the  United  States,  343. 


Contents  of  the  Volume 


MAY— JUNE 


FAOX 

I.  JOHN  HENRY  NEWMAN:   HOW  HE  FOUND  A  LIGHT  AMID  THE 

ENCIRCLING  GLOOM 345 

Rtv.  Edwin  Lewis,  B.D.,  Madison,  N.  J. 

n.  THE  MORAL  RESPONSIBILITY  OF  GOD  TO  MAN 363 

Rev,  Fbed  Leitch,  Ph.D.,  Skowhegan,  Me. 

III.  PULPIT  MANNERISMS  AND  MANNERS 375 

Isaac  Cbook,   D.D.,  Spokane,  Wash. 

IV.  THE  APOSTLE  OF  THE  SUPERMAN 385 

Professor  J.  F.  L.  Raschen,  Ph.D.,  Lafayette  College,  Easton,  Pa. 

V.  AN  OPTIMISTIC  VIEW  OF  LIFE  IN  THE  CHURCHES 395 

J.  W.  Van  Cleve,  D.D.,  Champaign,  111. 

\'L  "ARMS  AND  ITIE  MAN  " 402 

Ceorqe  C.  Peck,  D.D.,  New  York,  N.  Y. 
VII.  THE  SEVENTH  HERO:  A  SUGGESTION  TO  SOME  NEW  CARLYLE     411 
Rev.  Joseph  M.  M.  Grat,  A.M.,  Baltimore,  Md. 

VIIL  RACE  CONFLICT 423 

George  A.  Grant,  D.D.,  Stafford  Springs,  Conn. 

IX.  HOW  I  FOUND  STANLEY 431 

Professor  R.  T.  Stevenson,  D.D.,  Ohio  Wesleyan  University,  Delaware,  O. 

X  WHERE  THE   FATHERHOOD  OF  GOD  FAILS 438 

Rev.  Foster  C.  AxDEftsoN.  A.M.,  East  Palestine,  O. 

XL  THE  PREACHER  OF  THE  EVANGEL 445 

L.  H.  BuoBEE,  D.D.,  Brookline,  Mass. 

XIL  THE  PREACHER'S  PULPIT  PRAYERS 451 

C.  F.  Reisner,  D.D.,  New  York,  N.  Y. 

EDITORIAL  DEPARTMENTS: 

Notes  and  Discttssions 456 

A  Revival  of  Religion,  456;  Address  at  a  High  School  Commencement,  458. 
The  Arena ; 468 

The  Veiled  Prophet,  468;  The  Pre-Raphaelites,  471;  Relation  of  Bishops  to  the 

General  Conference,  472;  Membership  of  a  Bishop,  473. 
The  Itinerants'   Ci.trB 474 

The  Preacher  and  Social  Science.474;  An  Important  View  of  the  Ideal  Mim9ter,477. 
Abchaologt  and  Biblical  Research 479 

Abraham,  479;  The  Amurru,  481. 
Foreign   Outlook " 484 

Concerning  the  Periodical  Literature  of  German  Protestantism,  484. 

Glimpses  of  Reviews  and  Magazines 487 

Book   Noticfs 491 

The  Fundamentals,  491:  Lyman's  The  Christian  Pastor  in  the  New  Age,  494; 
Joynt's  Pastoral  Work,  49S;  Phelps's  Essays  on  Modern  Novelists,  504;  Craw- 
ford's Thoburn  and  India,  508;  Clarke's  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God,  511. 


Contents  of  the  Volume 


JXn.Y— AUGUST 


TAQK 

.   L  BORDEN  PARKER  BOWNE 613 

ProfessorGEOBQK  A.  Cob,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  Union  Theological  Seminaiy,  New  York,  N.  Y. 

II.  JESUS  CHRIST  ON  MARRIAGE  AND  DIVORCE 525 

,    Professor  Milton  S.  Terky,  D.D.,  Garrett  Biblical  Institute,  Evanston,  111. 

in.  THE  POET   HERRICK ' 543 

Professor  Wiluam  Lton  Phelps,  Ph.D.,  Yale  University,  New  Haven,  Conn. 

IV.  THE  CARNEGIE  FOUNDATION  AND  THE  AMERICAN  UNIVEPwSITY     550 
President  Eookne  A.  Noble,  D.D.,  Goucher  College,  Baltimore,  Md. 

V.  A  PLEA  FOR  THE  CONGREGATION 563 

Rev.  W.  TV.  T.  Doncan,  A.M.,  New  Rochelle,  N.  Y. 

VL  SOME  ASPECTS  OF  MODERN  PSYCHOLOGY 676 

E.  C.  WiLM,  Ph.D.,  Washbume  College,  Topeka,  Kan. 

Vn.  WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  THE  EARLY  CHURCH 584 

Chancellor  Fhanxlin  Hamilton,  D.D.,  American  University,  Washineton,  D.  C. 

VnL  METHODIST  METHODS  IN  ROME. 590 

Rev.  Ghant  Peekiks,  A.M.,  Norway,  Mich. 

IX.  PRAGMATISM  AND  THE  PERSONAL  PHILOSOPHY 598 

President  F.  L.  Stbickland,  Ph.D.,  Simpson  College,  Indianola,  la. 

X.  ISRAEL'S  THREAD  IN  HISTORY 605 

Rev,  E.  G.  RiCHABDsoN,  A.M.,  Bristol,  Conn. 

XL  AN  INTERPRETER  OF  BROWNING ^ 610 

Ella,  -B.  Hallock,  Southold,  N.  Y.  *" 

Xn.  A  STUDY  IN  LOCAL  CHURCH  FEDERATION 615 

Rev.  Geohqe  F.  Wsils,  A.M.,  Burlington,  Vt. 

EDITORIAL  DEPARTMENTS: 

Notes  and  Discussions 619 

A  Letter  from  Professor  Bowne,  619;  Pleasures  and  Pains  of  Foreign  Travel,  620. 
The  Arena 640 

What  Wesley  Said  About  Calvin,  640:  The  Earliest  Traceable  Astronomy.  642; 
"Service  in  Plant  Life,"  643. 

The  Itinerants'    Club 644 

Minbterial  Fidelity,  644;  The  "Los-Von-Rom"  Movement  in  Austria,  646. 

ABCHiBOLOOT     AND    BiBLICAL  ReSEARCH 647 

HiJprechfa  Deluge  Tablet,  647. 
FoBKioN   Outlook. 651 

Becent  Personal  Changes  in  German  Protestant  Theological  Facultiee,  651;  Arthur 
Drews  and  the  "Christ  Myth,"  652. 

GuupsES  OF  Reviews  and  Magazines 654 

Book  Notices 659 

Vance'3  Tendency,  659;  Huizinga's  Belief  in  a  Personal  God,  6G3;  Van  Dyke's  The 
Spirit  of  .\meriea.  007:  Ilunekpr's  Egoists,  670;  Butler's  Ten  Gi-eat  and  Good  ilen, 
073;  Montgomery's  Western  ^V"omcn  in  Eastern  Lands,  67S;  Ilockint's  The  Soul  c* 
Dominic  Wildthorno,  OSO. 


Contents  or  the  Volume 


SEPTEIVIBER— OCTOBER 


rAOK 

L  803IE  PROBLEMS  INVOL\'ED  IN  INDLA.'S  EVANGELIZATION 681 

Bishop  F.  W.  Warne,  D.D.,  Luoknow,  India. 

IL  INTELLECTUAL  FRONTIERSMEN 696 

President  F.  J.  McConnell,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  DePauw  University,  Greencastle,  Indiana. 
HL  S.^AirLE  LATIN  LYRICS  BY  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY  GERMANS...     706 
Professor  K.  P.  Harrington,  Ph.D.,  Wealeyan  University,  Middletown,  Coon. 

IV.  THE  UNCOMMON  COMMONPLACE ' 726 

Bishop  W.  A.  Qdatle,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Olilahoma  City,  Oils. 

V.  THE  SOLITARINESS  OF  THE  HUMAN  SOUL 734 

Henrt  Graham,  D.D.,  Albany,  N.  Y. 

VI.  CHRISTIANITY  AND  THE  SUPERNATURAL 739 

President  A.  B.  Storms,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Iowa  State  College,  Ames,  Iowa. 
Vn.  WILLIAM     JOHNSON    FOX— LITERARY     FATHER     OF     ROBERT 

BROWNING 750 

8.  O.  Atres,  A.m.,  Librarian  of  Drew  Theological  Seminary,  Madison,  N.  J. 

VIIL  THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  POETRY 754 

President  R.  W.  Cooper,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Upper  Iowa  University,  Fayette,  Iowa. 

IX  AN  INDIAN  SUMMER  ]  N  THE  HISTORY  OF  ISRAEL 769 

O.  L.  Joseph,  A.M.,  B.D.,  Su£fern,  N.  Y. 

X.  MOSES,  AN   INTERPRETATION 774 

Frank  Crane.  D.D.,  Chicago,  111. 

XL  WHAT  IS  THE  UNPARDONABLE   SIN? 784 

Rev.  A.  S.  Walls,  A.M.,  Dauphin,  Pa. 

EDITORIAL   DEPARTMENTS: 

Notes  and  Discussions 788 

The  Filial  and  the  Unfilial,  788;  Christ's  Law  of  Antagonism,  789. 
The  Arena ^ 794 

Bishops  in   the  General  Conference.  794;    An  Old  Description  of  the  Bible,  795; 
Sunday  Delivery  of  Mail,  798. 

Tub  Itinerants'    Club 800 

Summer  Vacation  Notes,  800;  The  Spirit  of  Christian  Unity,  801. 

Archjiologt   and   Biblical  Research 804 

Excavations  in  Mesopotamia,  804. 

FoBcioN    Outlook 808 

The  Borromeo  Encyclical  and  German  Protestants,  808;  Methodism  in  the  Jud£- 
Eient  of  German  Churchmen,  809. 

Glimpses  or  Reviews  and  Magazines , 813 

Book   Notices 819 

Parkhursc's  The  Sunny  Side  of  Cbrislisnity,  819:  Mfclaren's  Expositions  of  Holy 
bcrintnrc,  S22:  Watkinson's  The  Fatal  Barter.  825:  Upham's  Simon  Peter,  Shep- 
i;  'o  o  '  ^^<^'?^'^'*  Twice  Porn  Men.  S30;  Winchrster's  A  Group  of  English  Essay- 
Lr,t'  *,'.2;  Urown's  Government  By  Influence,  834;  Fowler's  Patriotic  Options, 
ol'*  C'lf^risfs  The  Life  of  Mary  I.yon.  840:  ScbafT's  History  of  the  Christian 
t^hurch.  842;  Mudce's  History  of  the  New  Englnnd  Conference.  S44;  Leonard's  The 
Koiaan  Catholic  Church  at  the  Fount.iin  Head.  845. 

fiUPPLENfENT.     THE   VATICAN'S   ATTACK   ON  METHODISM:  A  REPLY 

TO  ARCHBISHOP  IRELAND 84T 

R.  J.  CooxB,  D.D.,  Book  Editor  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 


Contents  of  the  Volume 


NOYEMBER-DECEMBER 

FAOS 

L  THE  SUPREMACY  OF  CHRIST 881 

The  late  Professor  Bowne  of  Boston  University. 

IL  THE  LITERATURE  OF  SAINTS;  OR,  THE  REALISM  OF  GOOD....     890 
Bishop  E.  R.  Hendeix,  D.D..  LL.D.,  Kansas  City,  Mo. 

III.  THREE  BORDER  TOWNS 912 

Professor  A.  C.  AaMsTKONO,  Ph.D.,  Wealeyan  University,  Middletown,  Coao. 

IV.  THE    GENIUS    OF   METHODISM   AND   THE  DOCTRINE    OF    THE 

IMMINENT  APPEARING  OF  CHRIST 925 

H.  R.  Calkins,  A.M.,  B.D.,  Cawnpore,  India. 

V.  LEST  WE  FORGET 944 

Bishop  William  Boet,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Zurich,  Switzerland. 

VI.  ORATORY  IN  THE  WORLD  MISSIONARY  CONFERENCE 956 

H.  K.  Carroll,  LL.D.,  Plainfield,  N.  J. 

VIL  THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  PRAYER  MEETING 963 

W.  W  Kino.  D.D.,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 

Vm.  THE  CHURCH  TO  MEET  THE  NEW  NEED 972 

A.  H.  GooDENouoH,  D.D.,  Stamford,  Conn. 

IX.  THE  WIZARDRY  OF  HARDSHIP 980 

C.  F.  Reisneb,  D.D.,  New  York,  N.  Y. 

EDITORLA.L   DEPARTMENTS: 

Notes  and  Discussions 987 

The  Peaks  and  Plains  of  Christian  Experience,  987. 

The  Arena 998 

Progressive  Sanctification,  998;  The  Jesuit's  Oath,  999. 

The  Itinera.vts'  Club 1002 

Spontaneity  and  Method  in  Christian  Service,  1002;  What  is  a  Mission  Field?  1004. 

ARCttEOLOGT     AND     BiBLICAL   RESEARCH 1007 

The  Harvard  E.xpedition  to  Samaria,  1007 

Foreign    Outlook. 1011 

Recent  Theoloeical  Literature,  1011. 

Gliupses  of  Reviews  and  Magazines 1014 

Book   Notices 1024 

Quayle's  The  Pastor-Preacher.  1024;  Strong's  My  Relipion  in  Everyday  Life,  1028; 
Roads's  Rural  Christendom,  1030;  Hardy's  Time's  LaugUingatocks,  1033;  Greene'a 
The  Gospel  in  Literature,  1036;  Earland'a  Ruskin  and  His  Circle,  1040;  Ferrero's 
The  Valley  of  Aosta,  1044. 

Ivdex 1047 


METHODIST    EEYIEW 


JANUARY.  1910 


aet.  I.— the  message  oe  baptism^ 

If  any  of  my  honored  colleagues  have  thought  of  the  matter, 
or  have  reckoned  back  the  swiftly  flying  years,  they  have  noticed 
that  it  is  not  six  years  since  I  occupied  this  place  in  this  sacra- 
mental service,  as  it  would  naturally  be,  but  only  five.  One  year 
of  the  reckoning  has  dropped.  It  was  that  year  when  our  great 
dear  Dr.  Upham — for  he  was  great  in  more  senses  than  one, 
nomen  venerahile  et  clarum — ^went  up  to  the  Light  Eternal.  As 
I  recall  his  presence  on  that  occasion,  exactly  five  years  ago  this 
very  moment,  I  let  fall  in  passing  this  reference  to  the  noble 
memory  of  one  which  those  who  knew  him  will  keep  green  in  their 
hearts  forever.  In  this  sacramental  service  it  seems  fitting  to 
recall  the  spiritual  message  of  the  sacraments  as  given  in  the  IN'ew 
Testament.  And  as  on  Eebruary  24,  1904,  I  considered  the 
message  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  it  remains  for  me  this  morning  to 
consider  the  religious  challenge  of  baptism — not  the  doctrine,  but 
the  spiritual  message  of  baptism  as  found  in  our  K'ew  Testament 
sources.    Text:  Acts  10.  44-48. 

Jesus  came  to  a  world  where  baptisms  were  the  everyday 
acts  of  religious  cleansing.  So  far  as  historical  background 
is  concerned,  Christianity  has  enough  and  to  spare.  There 
were  the  numerous  washings,  immersions,  pourings,  or  sprink- 

'  A  apnnon  preached  in  Drew  Theoloscical  Seminary  on  the  occasion  of  the  presence  for 
•  '<»  last  time  of  the  senior  class  as  a  whole  at  the  Wednesday  morninK  preaching  ser%-ice,  oa 
whirh  oucnsion  eince  IS'JO  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  is  athninistered. 


10  Methodist  Review  [January 

lings  prescribed  in  the  Mosaic  law,  all  of  which  had,  how- 
ever, onlv  ritualistic,  ceremonial,  or  external  religious  significance 
(see  Heb.  9.  9,  10).  Of  the  number  and  importance  of  these 
baptisms  we  who  are  brought  up  in  a  religion  of  the  Spirit  can 
have  very  little  idea.  They  attended  the  Israelite  all  through  his 
life,  and  met  him  at  almost  every  turn.  We  may  be  glad  to  be 
free  from  that  yoke.  Still,  we  may  recognize  that  outside  of  the 
religious  significance  they  had  indirectly  a  valuable  sanitary  oflSce^ 
and  helped,  among  other  things,  to  give  the  Jews  that  superb 
health  and  toughness  which  has  kept  them  a  distinct  race  to  the 
present.  Then  there  were  the  proselyte  baptisms.  For  a  long  time 
there  was  a  dispute  as  to  whether  the  baptism  of  proscljies  coming 
into  Judaism  from  heathenism  arose  as  early  as  the  time  of  Christ. 
But  we  know  now  that  these  baptisms  were  in  full  swing*  in  the 
first  and  second  centuries;  and,  if  so,  they  were,  as  Schiirer  and 
Edersheim  have  shown,  practiced  before.  After  Christianity  be- 
came an  established  faith  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  Juda- 
ism, with  its  intense  hatred  of  the  new  religion,  to  take  over 
from  that  religion  the  custom  of  baptizing  its  converts.  That 
custom  was  introduced  long  prior  to  the  Incarnation.  In  fact, 
since  all  heathens  were  ceremonially  and  religiously  unclean,  it  is 
inconceivable  to  think  of  proselytes  being  received  without  the 
religiously  purifying  bath.^  All  proselytes,  male  and  female, 
were  baptized,  or  rather  baptized  themselves.  How  was  this  done  ? 
They  entered  the  water  in  a  state  of  complete  or  almost  complete 
nudity,  preferably  into  a  running  stream,  waded  out  up  to  the 
shoulders  or  neck,  were  asked  whether  they  received  the  yoke  of 
the  law,  or  questions  to  that  effect,  and  on  their  answering  "Yes," 
they  bowed  the  head  underneath  the  water,  and  rose  up  new  crea- 
tures. There  is  no  doubt  that  these  prosel}i:e  baptisms  were 
perfectly  well  known  in  the  time  of  Jesus — ^taken  for  granted  with 
every  new  comer  into  Israel.  In  fact,  the  echo  of  them  is  heard 
in  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  precious  documents  of  Christian 
antiquity,  the  Didache,  or  so-called  Teaching  of  the  Twelve  Apos- 
tles, written  anywhere  between  80  and  120,  where  directions  are 


»  See  the  excellent  remarks  of  Schurer,  Gesch.  des  judischen  Volkes  im  Zeitaiter  Jesu 
Christ!,  3  Aufl..  Leipiig.  1898,  iii,  129-132. 


IQIO]  The  Message  of  Baptism  ^  11  ~ 

civcn  that  when  one  is  baptized  the  immersion  must  take  place,  if 
possible,  in  running  water.  O  ves,  there  were  plenty  of  presup- 
positions for  Christian  baptism.  But  there  was  a  more  important 
one  still.  John  the  Baptist  came  preaching  the  baptism  of  repent- 
iince  as  a  preparation  for  the  Messitinic  kingdom,  and  immers- 
ing, in  the  Jordan  all  who  came  to  him  with  penitence.  This 
baptism  of  John,  though  it  had  analogies  to  previous  customs, 
especially  to  proselyte  baptism,  was  really  a  new  thing  in  Israel, 
as  it  was  given  to  every  Israelite  without  distinction  who  desired 
it  as  a  symbol  of  moral  cleansing.  Priest,  scribe,  Pharisee,  soldier, 
peasant — all  were  baptized  on  the  confession  and  renunciation  of 
their  sins.  The  Messianic  kingdom  was  to  be  a  kingdom  of  holi- 
ness, not  ceremonial  holiness,  but  actual  holiness,  holiness  of  heart 
and  life,  and  underneath  all  the  distinctions  that  divided  Jew  from 
Jew  was  the  common  moral  .unfitness  to  receive  the  new  guest 
from  God.  Therefore  they  must  repent  of  their  sins,  and  as  a 
symbol  of  their  changed  state  go  under  the  waters  of  the  Jordan. 
This  was  the  baptism  of  John,  and  it  was  the  immediate  historical 
introduction  to  Christian  baptism.  Under  its  influence  for  'a 
brief  time,  in  Jesus's  opening  Judsean  ministry,  his  own  dis- 
ciples baptized  those  who  came  to  the  Master  (John  4.  1,  2),  though 
the  practice  was  soon  discontinued,  due  in  part  to  the  removal  from 
the  country  of  the  Jordan,  in  part  to  the  martyrdom  of  John  and 
the  consequent  cessation  of  his  baptisms,  after  which  the  disciples 
of  Jesus  had  no  heart,  perhaps,  for  theirs,  and  in  part  to  the  new 
interests,  problems,  ideas,  ideals,  dangers,  etc.,  of  the  Galilsean 
ministry. 

There  was  another  element  in  that  historic  background  on 
which  Christian  baptism  stepped  forth  to  men,  and  that  is  the 
baptism  of  the  Grseco-Eoman  mysteries,  of  the  Egyptian  and  other 
heathen  religions.  Scholars  who  belong  to  what  we  would  call  the 
comparative-religion  school,  the  school  which  looks  upon  religions 
scientifically  and  historically,  without  reference  to  their  divine 
origin  or  divine  content,  love  to  trace  the  resemblances  between 
Christianity  and  other  religions,  with  the  inference  not  far 
removed  that  they  are  all  at  bottom  divine  in  about  the  same  sense. 
Now,  we  have  incontrovertible  evidence  that  later  Christianity 


12  Methodist  Review  [January 

borrowed  industriously — sometimes  consciously  and  sometimes 
unconsciously — from  that  old  heathen  world,  that  she  took  over 
many  pagan  customs,  restampcd  them  with  Christian  names  and 
adapted  them  to  Christian  uses,  and  that  that  spoiling  of  the 
heathen  accounts  largely  for  the  Catholic  Church  of  the  Middle 
Ages  and  earlier,  and  for  much  in  the  so-called  Catholic 
Church  of  to-day  (the  Eoman,  Greek,  High  Anglican,  etc). 
Every  historian  knows  this.  But  that  is  far  different  from  saying 
that  in  that  earliest  time  of  the  church's  life  her  sacraments  were 
shaped  by  the  Greek  mysteries,  or  received  their  impulse  from 
them.  For,  first,  no  moral  change  was  required  from  the  naddpaiay 
the  purifying  baptisms  of  the  mysteries,  no  more  than  is  required 
to  be  initiated  into  a  secret  lodge  to-day,  whereas,  in  Christianity 
a  religious  change,  or  profound  religious  preparation,  was  neces- 
sary. Second,  the  whole  spiritual  background  of  the  pagan  bap- 
tisms was  different.  As  Rhode  well  says :  "It  was  not  a  heartfelt 
consciousness  of  sin,  not  a  moral  sense  of  pain  that  the'  purifying 
rite  had  to  assuage;  rather,  it  was  the  superstitious  dread  of  a 
world  of  spirits,  hovering  over  men  with  eerie  presence,  and 
clutching  at  them  with  a  thousand  hands  out  of  the  dim  obscurity, 
which  called  for  the  help  of  the  purifier  and  the  atoning  priest.* 
There  were  all  kinds  of  trivial  defilements  from  which  the  super- 
stitious looked  for  cleansing,  in  their  baptisms,  something  similar 
to  the  ceremonial  cleansings  of  the  levitical  law.  But  in  Chris- 
tianity there  was  the  one  bath  for  the  remission  of  sin,  a  rite 
which,  before  it  became  degraded  in  later  times,  marked  a  great 
crisis  in  a  man's  spiritual  history.  I  must  agree,  therefore,  with 
Anrich,  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  early  history  of  Christian 
baptism  to  suggest  the  pagan  mysteries,^  though  in  the  later  rites 
I  coidd  not  be  at  all  so  sure. 

Let  us  now  take  a  rapid  glance  through  our  New  Testament 
sources  to  find  out  what  is  the  spiritual  message  of  baptism  to  U3 
as  Christian  men  and  ministers.  The  first  mention  of  Christ  in 
relation  to  baptism  is  that  of  John :  "I  baptize  you  in  [or  with] 


>  Psyche,  368.  quoted  by  Cheetliam,  Mysteries  PBgan  and  Christian.    London.  1897.  101. 
'  Das  antike  Mjsterienwe:<en  in  Beinem  Einflusa  aiif  das  Christentum.     Gottingen,  1S94 
118-19. 


jyiO]  The  Message  of  Baptism  '  13 

water;  but  he  shall  baptize  you  in  [or  with]  the  Holy  Spirit" 
(Mark  1.  8).  Here  John's  baptism  is  placed  in  contrast  to  that 
which  Jesus  is  to  found,  this  latter  being  not  an  outward  rite  but 
an  actually  divine  thing,  namely,  the  communication  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  by  such  an  outpouring  that  the  subjects  of  it  are  possessed 
and,  so  to  speak,  covered  by  it.  Then  comes  the  actual  baptism  of 
Jesus  by  John,  where  Jesus  places  himself  in  absolute  oneness 
with  the  sinful  race  of  man,  and  for  them  and  with  them  fulfills 
all  righteousness.  The  next  reference  is  the  familiar  passage  in 
John  3.  5,  which  some  interpreters  refer  to  Christian  baptism, 
with  the  implication  that  unless  one  rs  thus  baptized  he 
cannot  be  saved.  .  But  a  little  attention  to  the  historical  situa- 
tion makes  that  implication  impossible.  Christian  baptism 
was  not  yet  instituted,  nor  did  iSTicoderaus  know  anything 
about  it,  and  it  was  therefore  impossible  that  he  should  be 
saved  by  it.  What  he  did  know  about  was  the  baptism  of  John 
for  the  remission  of  sins,  a  baptism  for  the  preparation  for  the 
Messiah,  as  the  expression  of  the  repentance  and  change  of  heart 
by  which  alone  the  Messiah  coidd  be  received  when  he  came.  W\Cr 
odemus  and  others  of  his  party,  with  their  lofty  consciousness  of 
ritual  cleanness,  of  their  being  now  in  possession  of  all  the  bless- 
ings of  the  true  Israel  of  God,  disdained  that  baptism,  and  refused 
to  confess  their  sins  and  go  under  the  waters  of  the  Jordan  at  the 
Lands  of  the  shaggy  prophet  of  the  wilderness.  So  Christ  meets 
him  on  his  o\vn  ground.-  It  is  as  though  he  said  to  him:  "John's 
mission  was  from  God;  his  baptism  was  from  heaven;  you  and 
your  brethren  think  yourselves  above  it  and  have  proudly  refused 
it;  but  in  that  humble  way  of  confession  and  repentance  of  sin, 
8>Tnbolizcd  by  that  cleansing  and  by  the  new  birth  of  the  Spirit- 
only  in  that  way  can  you  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God." 

The  only  remaining  passage  in  the  Gospels  which  we  have  to 
deal  with  (since  Mark  16.  16,  is  not  genuine)  is  the  great  commis- 
sion— Matt.  28.  19.  This  is  the  only  place  where  Christ 
Rpeaks  of  baptism  as  something  to  be  observed  in  his  church. 
In  fact,  the  total  absence  of  all  prophecies  or  promises  concerning 
the  future  baptism  which  he  was  to  institute  is  something  startling 
if  baptism  is  the  saving  ordinance  taught  by  Catholicism  of  all 


14  -  Methodist  Review  [January 

shades.  That  Christ  himself  did  not  believe  that  baptism  was  the 
regenerating  rite  of  his  kingdom  is  shown  bj  his  unvarying  empha- 
sis on  the  spiritual  and  ethical  when  he  speaks  of  salvation  or 
entrance  into  his  fold,  his  unbroken  silence  as  to  the  regenerating 
office  of  any  ritual  bath. 

The  Eitschlian  school  of  historians  have  in  mj  judgment, 
however,  gone  too  far  in  cutting  out  ]\[att.  28.  19,  and  claiming 
that  Jesus  did  not  institute  the  sacrament  of  Christian  baptism, 
except  as  he  started  an  historical  evolution  which  included  it. 
What  they  say  is  this:  (1)  There  is  no  record  in  the  IsTew  Testa- 
ment of  any  baptisms  in  the  name  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son 
and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  which  is  inconceivable  on  the  supposition 
that  Christ  actually  gave  such  a  command.  The  baptisms  are 
always  in  the  name  of  Christ  alone.  (2)  This  baptism  was  kept 
up  in  the  second  century  and  even  in  the  third  century.  (3)  It 
was  not  Jesus's  custom  to  give  formulse  or  liturgical  rubrics 
according  to  which  religious  acts  were  to  be  performed.  (4)  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  such  formulae  were  not  iu  use  in  primitive  Chris- 
tianity. (5)  The  struggle  with  which  Paul  had  to  carry  through 
the  full  independent  right  of  taking  the  gospel  to  the  Gentiles  is 
inconceivable  if  Christ  ever  gave  the  great  commission  of  Matt. 
28.  19..  Kor  on  the  strengih  of  that  commission  would  it  ever 
have  occurred  to  the  council  of  Acts  15  to  legitimate  Paid  and 
Earnabas  as  apostles  to  the  Gentiles  and  Peter  as  the  apostle  to  the 
circumcision.  The  original  apostles  would  have  claimed  as  of 
right  a  universal  apostolate.  (G)  Paul  could  not  have  known  the 
l)aptismal  command  of  ]\f  att.  28.  19,  or  he  would  not  have  thrown 
aside  the  duty  of  baptizing  as  something  to  which  he  was  not 
called,  nor  could  he  have  thanked  God  that  he  had  baptized  only 
two  or  three  in  the  great  church  at  Corinth  (1  Cor.  1.  14-17). 
(7)  Peter  himself  does  not  seem  to  feel  that  baptism  is  any  special 
duty  of  his,  as  he  turns  it  over  to  others  (Acts  10.  48).  Such 
are  the  arguments  of  some  of  the  "advanced"  school  of  the  early 
church  historians.^  I  must  confess  that  to  me  these  argum.cnts 
are  more  plauslljlc  than  convincing.     (1)  How  do  we  know  that 

1  For  a  hanfiy  afatcmcnt  of  them  8t*e  Feine.  art.  Taufe,  Schriftlehre,  in  the  Herzog-Hauck, 
3  Aufl.  xix,  397  (1907). 


29  JO]  The  Message  of  Baptism      .  15 

Christ  '^ave  Matt.  28.  19,  as  an  actual  rubric  or  formula  to  be 
repeated  by  the  month?  Did  he  not  have  a  deeper  meaning — a 
spiritual  dedication  into  the  very  nature  of  God  as  manifested  by 
Christ  throu"-h  the  Holy  Spirit  ?  Of  course  we  do  well  to  use  those 
exact  words,  but  it  is  not  likely  that  Christ  was  commanding  a 
formula  to  be  literally  observed.  (2)  According  to  the  New 
Tcstnincnt  conception  of  God,  baptism  into  the  name  of  Christ 
was  really  equivalent  to  baptism  into  the  name  of  the  Trinity. 
Ill  the  consciousness  of  the  apostolic  Christians  Christ  mediated 
God  and  sent  forth  the  Holy  Spirit.  (3)  The  first  Christian 
baptisms  were  given  to  Jews,  who,  as  already  believing  in  God, 
would  naturally  be  baptized  into  the  name  of  Jesus.  The  same 
course  might,  well  be  pursued  for  a  time  with  Gentiles,  to  whom 
the  acceptance  of  Christ  meant  the  acceptance  of  the  Christian's 
God.  (4)  We  cannot  argue  that  because  Christ  gave  certain 
general  directions,  which  at  times  may  have  assumed  even  the 
form  of  an  actual  prescription,  the  early  Christians  must  inevi- 
tably follow  these  directions  according  to  the  letter.  In  the  free 
life  of  the  first  church  the  Spirit  did  not  lead  them  into  hard-and- 
fast  forms  or  expressions,  though  he  did  lead  them  into  all  the 
truth  that  they  could  .bear  at  the  time.  For  instance,  it  is  allowed 
by  nearly  all  critics  that  Christ  gave  what  we  call  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  Must,  therefore,  that  prayer  be  used  by  Christians  ?  And 
if  we  find  them  not  using  it,  must  we  infer  he  never  gave  it  ?  !N'ot 
at  all.  That  prayer  absolutely  disappears  in  apostolic  Chris- 
tianity. It  emerges  in  the  second  century.  But  because  there  is 
just  as  little  trace  of  it  in  apostolic  times  as  of  what  we  call  the 
Trinitarian  baptismal  formula,  must  we,-  therefore,  infer  that 
Christ  never  uttered  this  prayer?  E'either  need  we  infer  that 
Christ  never  spoke  Matt.  28.  10,  because,  so  far  as  we  know  to  the 
contrary,  people  were  always  baptized  in  the  name  of  Christ  in 
the  apostolic  age.  (5)  Because  the  first  disciples  did  not  immedi- 
ately grasp  the  universal  destination  of  the  gospel  is  no  reason 
for  supposing  that  Christ  did  not  give  the  great  commission.  He 
foretold  his  death,  but  his  disciples  were  as  much  surprised  and 
>-ti>irgercd  by  it  as  though  it  had  never  been  told  them.  The  world- 
vide  gospel  was  distinctly  announced  by  Jesus  on  other  occasions 


16  Methodist  Review  [January 

(Matt.  24.  14),  but  it  took  the  revealiugs  of  the  Spirit  after  the 
ascension  and  the  teachings  of  history  to  bring  that  truth  honae 
to  the  apostles.  (6)  Paul's  and  Peter's  indifference  to  baptism  by 
their  own  hands,  so  long  as  it  was  performed  by  others,  is  no  argu- 
ment against  Matt.  28.  19,  inasmuch  as  the  confining  of  the  admin- 
istration of  baptism  to  a  certain  set  of  officers  is  a  Catholic  evolu- 
tion, and  did  not  exist  in  the  apostolic  age.  In  the  fresh  life  of 
the  Spirit  in  that  early  time  any  Christian  male  believer  who  for 
the  occasion  represented  the  congregation  could  perform  baptism. 
The  reason  Paul  was  glad  that  he  did  not  baptize  the  Corinthians 
was  twofold.  First,  his  special  divine  calling"  was  preaching, 
and,  second,  there  was  the  less  excuse  for  any  set  in  Corinth  to 
gather  around  him  as  their  leader,  and  use  his  name  as  their 
shibboleth.  (7)  The  Trinitarian  baptismal  sentence  in  Matt.  28. 
19,  is  the  less  doubtful  when  we  remember  that  the  Trinitarian 
conception  is  not  only  woven  into  the  whole  apostolic  proclamation 
(see  among  other  passages  1  Cor.  12.  4-6;  2  Cor.  13.  13;  Rom.  15, 

'  16,  30;  Eph.  2.  19-22;  5.  19f. ;  1  Pet.  1.  2;  2.  5;  4.  13f. ;  Heb. 
10.  29-31;  Pev.  1.  4f.),  but  is  involved  in  the  idea  of  Christian 
baptism  itself.  The  work  of  the  Father  is  immediately  related 
to  that  of  the  Son,  and  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  often  asso- 
ciated with  baptism  in  the  Acts.  The  Trinitarian  sentence,  then, 
in  the  great  commission  need  cause  no  surprise.  For  these  and 
other  reasons  I  am  unable  to  follow  Harnack,  McGiffert,  Feine, 
B.  "Weiss,  and  others  (not  all  of  whom  are  of  the  "advanced" 
school)  in  throwing  out  Matt.  28.  19.     To  us  the  great  commission 

■  comes  with  its  twofold  work — the  one  spiritual  and  intellectual, 
making  disciples,  the  other  sacramental,  as  sealing  and  publicly 
proclaiming  that  discipleshij)  by  a  beautiful  symbolic  act  of  con- 
fession. The  spiritual  necessarily  comes  before  the  other,  and  pre- 
pares the  way  for  it.  After  both  comes  the  lifelong  work  of 
instruction  (verse  20). 

Following  the  infant  church  now  into  the  Acts,  we  find  bap- 
tism taken  for  granted  as  the  rite  of  admission  into  Christianity. 
To  the  inquirers  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  Peter  says :  "Repent  ye, 
and  be  baptized  every  one  of  you  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ 
unto  the  remission  of  your  sins ;  and  ye  shall  receive  the  gift  of 


1910]  ^  The  Message  of  Baptism  17 

the  Holy  Spirit"  (2.  38).  Here  the  repentance  (which  includes 
faith)  is  placed  first,  the  baptism  following  "unto  the  remission 
of  your  sins,"  which  does  not  mean  in  order  to  receive  the  remis- 
sion but  to  set  it  forth  by  a  solemn  public  act  of  discipleship,  after 
all  of  which  they  would  receive  the  special  bestowal  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  It  was  the  function  of  baptism  to  publicly  declare  a 
remission  that  had  already  taken  place  on  repentance,  and  so  it  is 
called  "unto  the  remission."  The  next  case  of  which  we  have  any 
information  (except  the  mere  mention  of  baptism)  is  Philip  and 
the  eunuch,  where  after  hearing  Christ  preached  from  Isa.  53,  the 
eunuch,  whose  heart  had  turned  to  the  Redeemer,  said,  "Behold, 
here  is  water;  what  doth  hinder  me  to  be  baptized?"  Then 
Philip  baptized  him — doubtless  in  the  running  water  of  some 
southern  stream.  This  brief  narrative,  where  newly  awakened 
faith  in  the  Messiah  is,  of  course,  taken  for  granted,  seemed  too 
fragmentary  to  some  early  Christian  scribe,  who  thought  that  the 
eunuch's  confession  of  faith  had  been  omitted.  He  therefore 
inserted  these  words:  "And  Philip  said,  If  thou  believest  with 
all  thine  heart,  thou  mayest.  And  he  answered  and  said,  I  believe 
that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God."  While  this  addition  is 
an  interesting  proof  that  in  the  early  church  none  was  baptized 
who  had  not  faith  and  was  not,  therefore,  already  saved,  the  inser- 
tion of  the  words  was  unnecessary,  because  Philip  would  not  have 
baptized  him  at  all  if  he  had  not  received  the  Lord.  See  Acts  8. 
36-38.  The  next  case  of  baptism  in  Acts  is  that  of  Paul,  to  whom 
in  one  of  the  three  accounts,  Ananias  said :  "And  now  why  tarriest 
Ihou  ?  arise,  and  be  baptized,  wash  away  thy  sins,  calling  on  his 
name"  (22.  16).  This  might  be  interpreted  as  though  Paul's  sins 
still  clung  to  him,  after  his  conversion,  after  his  prayer,  after  his 
divine  call  as  an  apostle,  after  his  acceptance  of  that  call,  still 
clung  to  him  awaiting  only  the  baptismal  bath  to  be  washed  away. 
But  I  think  that  interpretation  woidd  be  doing  violence  to  Paul's 
epiritual  history.  He  was  already  a  called  and  a  fundamentally 
qualified  apostle,  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins  having  taken  place 
the  moment  he  had  yielded  to  the  heavenly  vision.  What  Ananias 
means  is,  "Let  the  reality  of  God's  love  to  thee  in  forgiveness  be 
brouglit  home  to  thee  and  to  others  by  this  public  cleansing." 


18  Methodist  Review  '.  [January 

The  verbs  here  are  in  the  middle  voice — "Get  thyself  baptized, 
and  thus  appropriate  sensibly  before  the  world  the  blessedness  of 
that  secret  inner  cleansing  which  thou  didst  receive  the  moment 
thy  eye  of  faith  turned  in  obedient  response  to  the  eye  of  thy 
Saviour  in  the  heavenly  vision."  We  must  not  materialize  an 
essentially  spiritual  religion  by  taking  literally  the  bold  oriental- 
isms of  Scripture:  "Purge  me  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be  clean: 
wash  me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow."  "Then  will  I  sprinkle 
clean  water  upon  you,  and  ye  shall  be  clean."  "Let  thyself  be 
baptized,  and  wash  away  thy  sins."  These  bold  figures  of  the 
East  must  not  tempt  us  to  externalize  and  mechanicalize  the 
Christian  religion  after  a  Catholic  fashion.  The  rhetoric  must 
be  interpreted  by  spiritual  principles  laid  down  in  a  thousand 
passages  of  which  this,  perhaps,  is  the  essence — that  the  regenerate 
life  is  born  by  faith,  is  illuminated  by  hope,  and  is  perfected  by 
love ;  this  we  must  do,  and  not  interpret  the  clear  shining  funda- 
mentals by  the  tropes.  While  Peter  was  speaking  to  Cornelius 
and  other  Gentiles  the  Holy  Spirit  fell  on  them  with  power.  But 
this  inner  cleansing  and  illumination  needed  an  outward  embodi- 
ment and  witness,  so  that  the  new  converts  might  mark  by  a  public 
act  of  tremendous  physical  significance  their  break  with  the  old 
life.  Therefore  Peter  said :  "Can  any  man  forbid  the  water,  that 
these  [Gentiles]  should  not  be  baptized,  who  have  received  the 
Holy  Spirit  as  well  as  we  [Jews]  ?"  (Acts  10.  47.)  Then  he 
turned  them  over  to  some  of  the  believers  to  baptize  them.  There 
is  nothing  to  remark  about  the  baptism  of  Lydia  and  the  jailer 
except  that  they  heard  the  word,  believed,  and  were  immediately 
baptized  (IG.  14,  15,  31-33).  The  game  with  Crispus  and  the 
Corinthians,  of  whom  it  is  said :  "Many  of  the  Corinthians  hear- 
ing believed,  and  were  baptized"  (18.  8).  An  interesting  case 
is  that  of  the  twelve  disciples  of  John  the  Baptist  at  Ephesus,  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Paul  instructed  them,  directed 
their  faith  to  Jesus,  who  was  to  send  down  the  Spirit,  had  them 
rebaptized  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  laid  his  hands  upon 
them  in  a  prayer  of  blessing.  By  that  time  their  faith  had 
become  directed  to  this  one  thing  of  a  special  outpouring  of  the 
Spirit  to  equip  them  for  service  in  that  wicked  pagan  city.    Their 


igjOj  The  Message  of  Baptism  19 

faith  claimed  the  promise,  the  Spirit  came  on  them,  and  they 
8puke  with  tongues  and  prophesied  (19.  1-7).  Paul's  hands  had 
nothing  to  do  with  this  outpouring,  except  that  his  prayer  and 
iKjrsonal  touch  so  strengthened  their  faith  that  that  faith  opened 
ihcir  hearts  to  the  baptism  divine. 

Entering  now  the  rich  pastures  of  Paul's  epistles,  we  find 
no  reference  whatever  to  baptism  in  the  two  epistles  to  the  Thes- 
salonians,  though  there  is  much  about  his  gospel.  In  Galatians 
there  is  only  one  reference  to  our  subject,  but  that  is  an  interest- 
ing and  important  one.  He  says  that  the  "law  is  become  our 
tutor  to  bring  us  unto  Christ,  that  we  might  be  justified  by  faith. 
But  now  that  faith  is  come,  we  are  no  longer  under  a  tutor.  For 
yc  are  all  sons  of  God,  through  faith,  in  Christ  Jesus.  For  as 
many  of  you  as  were  baptized  into  Christ  did  put  on  Christ. 
There  can  be  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,"  etc.  (3.  24-28).  The 
thought  is:  (1)  Ye  have  faith,  and  are  therefore  the  sons  of  God 
in  Christ.  (2)  Ye  were  baptized  into  Christ,  into  his  name,  into 
his  ownership,  so  that  now  ye  officially  and  publicly  belong  to 
him.  (3)  Ye  thus  put  on  Christ,  or  clothed  yourself  with  him. 
As  the  water  closed  you  around  and  for  the  moment  clothed  you, 
so  by  this  dedication  of  yourselves  to  him  ye  clothed  yourselves 
with  Christ.  In  the  mind  of  the  apostle  baptism  is  the  sign  or 
.sacra-ment  of  identification  with  Christ  of  a  most  intimate  and 
precious  kind.  But,  as  Meyer  says,  it  "necessarily  presup- 
poses .repentance  and  faith"  (see  on  Gal.  3^  27),  wMch  alone 
bring  the  new  life  in  Christ  (Gal.  2.  16-20;  3.  2^  5,  8,  11, 
14,  20). 

In  First  Corinthians  it  is,  as  every^'here  with  Paul,  the  "fool- 
ishness of  the  thing  preached  by  which  God  saves  them  that 
believe"  (1.  21),  the  gospel,  and  not  baptism,  which  has  the  power 
of  the  new  birth  (4.  15).  Baptism  was  performed  as  a  matter  of 
course,  though  it  was  a  rite  in  the  performance  of  which  Paul  did 
not  concern  himself  (1.  14-17).  In  fact,  the  use  of  the  middle 
voice  might  lead  us  to  think,  perhaps,  that  in  some  of  the  first 
baptisms  the  part  of  the  administrator  was  not  a  great  one,  but 
that  the  candidate  baptized  himself,  as  in  the  proselyte  baptisms, 
under  the  direction  and  at  the  word  of  the  officiating  brother.    If 


20  Methodist  Review  [January 

so,  it  would  be  parallel  to  marriage,  in  which  essentially  and  legally 
the  two  parties  marry  themselves,  the  legal  attitude  of  the  admin- 
istrator in  the  mind  of  both  church  and  state  being  simply  that  of 
a  declarer  and  witness.  This  brings  us  to  6.  11,  where  Paul, 
after  speaking  of  the  wicked  men  of  Corinth,  says:  "Such  were 
some  of  you :  but  ye  washed  yourselves,  but  ye  were  sanctified,  but 
ye  were  justified  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  in  the 
Spirit  of  our  God."  I  have  no  doubt  that  "washed"  means  ^Hbap- 
tized,"  but  Paul  is  not  speaking  chronologically  as  though  the 
washing  preceded  the  justification,  but  rhetorically,  summing  up- 
in  a  magnificent  sentence  the  great  moments  of  their  salvation, 
which  moments  were  brought  home  to  the  consciousness  of  the 
believer  in  his  baptismal  bath.  And  here  I  would  like  to  say  that 
in  the  early  church  baptism  had  a  tremendous  religious  significance 
that  later  Christianity  could  and  can  know  nothing  of.  It  was  a 
wrench  and  break  from  paganism  on  the  part  of  the  new  convert, 
a  public  challenge  to  all  his  former  associates,  a  dramatic  act  of 
renunciation  of  the  devil,  of  his  former  religion,  of  his  former 
sins,  a  confession  of  Christ  before  his  world,  a  symbolical  burial 
of  his  old  life  in  the  baptismal  waters,  a  reception  into  a  new 
"brotherhood;  and  all  this  was  such  a  superb  act  and  venture  of 
faith  that  it  is  no  wonder  that  it  sometimes  put  the  climax  on  his 
conversion  and  regeneration,  so  that  the  Spirit  came  down  and 
baptized  him  in  that  supreme  confession.  -  This  explains  both 
psychologically  and  religiously  why  the  baptism  of  the  Spirit  is 
sometimes  associated  with  baptism  in  the  ]^^ew  Testament.  The 
only  analogy  the  modern  world  offers  is  baptism  in  heathen  lands, 
where  it  still  has  to  a  large  degree  the  same  office,  the  same  pro- 
found meaning,  the  same  effects.  The  words  of  chapter  twelve, 
verse  thirteen  ("for  in  one  Spirit  were  we  all  baptized  into 
one  bod}^'),  may  refer  to  the  baptism  of  the  Spirit,  or  it 
may  refer  to  ordinary  baptism  as  the  sacrament  used  by 
God  to  show  forth  the  unity  of  the  church — ^that  one  bap- 
tism by  which  Jew  and  Greek,  bond  and  free,  are  dedicated 
to  Christ,  their  one  Lord.  (I  pass  over  15.  29 — ^baptism 
for  the  dead — as  it  throws  no  light  on  Paul's  own  doctrine  of  bap- 
tism.)     Second  Corinthians  contains  no  references  to  baptism. 


1910]  3^6  Message  of  Baptism  21 

The  passage  1.  22,  about  God  sealing  us  does  not  refer  to  baptism, 
which  is  never  represented  in  the  ISTew  Testament  as  a  seal.  Bap- 
tism is,  of  course,  a  seal,  but  the  use  of  the  word  "seal"  to  designate 
it  belongs  to  the  last  half  of  the  second  century  or  later,  and  was, 
perhaps,  suggested  by  the  Greek  mysteries. 

In  Romans  there  is  only  one  reference  to  baptism — unu7n  sed 
leonein.  Everj-Avhere  faith  is  the  open  sesame  to  all  the  treasures 
of  the  gospel  of  gi-ace.  This  one  great  passage  is  6.  1-4 :  "What 
shall  we  say  then?  Shall  we  continue  in  sin,  that  grace  may 
abound?  God  forbid.  We  who  died  to  sin,  how  shall  we  any 
longer  live  therein?  Or  are  ye  ignorant  that  all  we  who  were 
baptized  into  Christ  Jesus  were  baptized  into  his  death  ?  We  were 
buried  therefore  vnth.  him  through  baptism  into  death :  that  like 
as  Christ  was  raised  from  the  dead  through  the  glory  of  the  Father, 
so  we  also  might  walk  in  newness  of  life."  This  is  one  of  those 
great  passages  of  Paul  that  peal  through  the  soul  like  the  bells  of 
eternity,  or,  changing  the  figiire,  it  is  one  of  those  which  divide 
the  very  marrow  of  the  spirit  and  challenge  our  secret  thoughts 
as  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ.  I  must  turn  the  exegesis 
of  it  over  to.  our  president,  who  has  dwelt  in  the  house  of  Paul  for 
60  many  years,  and  knows  him  as  one  knows  a  loved  and  intimate 
friend.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Paul  imports  here  a  new  idea  about 
baptism,  namely,  the  idea  of  being  baptized  into  Christ's  death, 
and  in  his  wonderfully  vivid,  rapid,  and  realistic  way  he  follows 
the  thought  up  as  representing  an  actual  baptism  into  death,  a  self- 
dedication  to  death  of"  the  old  man  in  the  baptismal  burial,  and 
to  an  emergence  into  newness  of  life  in  communion  with  the  risen 
Christ.  German  exegetes  are  inclined  to  interpret  the  apostle  as 
teaching  that  baptism  actually  brings  union  of  life  with  Christ; 
but  if  you  will  carefully  note  the  language  you  will  see  that  Paul 
speaks  nothing  of  any  change  in  the  soul  effected  by  baptism,  but 
only  a  new  reference,  a  new  dedication.  We  were  buried  that 
we  might  walk  in  newness  of  life ;  the  walking  is  an  active  thing, 
something  that  we  do  ourselves,  to  which  the  burial  calls  and 
dedicates  us,  but  the  power  to  which  comes  not  from  the  baptismal 
burial,  but  from  the  peace  and  power  of  faith  (5.  1,  2).  And 
remember  this,  brethren  of  Drew,  ye  were  baptized  into  the  death 


22  Methodist  Review  [January 

and  resurrection  of  Christ  to  the  intent  that  ye  might  walk  in 
newness  of  life.  If,  therefore,  ye  allow  yourselves  any  known  sin, 
and  do  not  constantly  strive  for  that  perfection  unto  which  ye  are 
called,  ye  belie  your  baptism,  and  in  so  far  Christ  to  whose  pos- 
session it  oflBcially  and  publicly  transfers  you.  The  same  thought 
of  burial  in  connection  with  baptism  occurs  in  Col.  2.  12.  And 
here  my  point  made  a  moment  ago  that  baptism  does  not  actually 
effect  our  newness  of  life  wth  Christ  but  only  represents  it  and 
dedicates  us  to  it  is  borne  out  by  the  statement  of  Paul,  "buried 
with  him  in  baptism  wherein  we  were  also  raised  with  him  through 
faith  in  the  power  of  God."  In  Eph.  4.  5,  we  have  the  "one  bap- 
tism" spoken  of,  which  helped  to  make  the  unity  of  the  church. 
In  5.  26,  we  have  another  tremendous  passage  of  Paul,  where  he 
speaks  of  Christ  having  loved  the  church  and  given  himself  for 
it,  "having  cleansed  it  by  the  washing  of  water  with  [or  in]  the 
word,  that  he  might  present  the  church  to  himself  a  glorious 
church,"  etc.  The  '"in  [or  with]  the  word"  refers  to  the  "word 
of  the  gospel,"  or  the  "word  preached,"  or  the  "word  of  faith" 
(Rom.  10.  8,  17;  Eph.  G.  17;  Heb.  6.  5;  1  Pet.  1.  15),  and  the 
meaning  is  that  by  this  word  through  faith  the  inner  cleansing 
of  believers  who  form  the  church  takes  place,  sealed,  set  forth,  and 
visibly  brought  home  by  the  baptismal  washing. 

I  now  leave  this  little  Scripture  study  to  find  out  the  spirit- 
ual message  of  baptism.  The  other  books  of  the  'New  Testament 
either  do  not  mention  baptism  at  all,  or,  if  they  do,  add  nothing 
new  to  what  we  have  found.    What,  then,  have  we  found  ? 

1.  Baptism  is  a  witness  to  Christian  unity,  both  our  union 
with  Christ  and  with  his  followers,  and  is,  therefore,  the  appropri- 
ate rite  of  admission  into  his  church. 

2.  It  sets  forth  our  union  with  the  death  and  resurrection 
of  Christ.^ 

3.  It  signifies  an  identification  with  Christ,  so  that  all  arbi- 
trary distinctions  disappear,  and  our  relation  with  Christ  only 
remains. 


'No  one  mode  is  definitely  taught  aa  an  indispensable  part  of  the  message  in  the  New 
Testament,  nor  could  be  consistently  with  a  relii;ion  nf  the  Spirit.  Any  mode  which  seta  forth 
the  symbolism  is  open  for  use.  Even  the  .symbol  of  burial  may  very  well  be  carried  out  by 
pouring,  the  method  us«h1  in  our  earth  burials. 


J 9 10]  The  Message  of  Baptism  23 

4.  It  sets  forth  in  a  vivid  and  dramatic  way  the  cleansing  of 
our  hearts  through  faith  by  the  Holy  Spirit. 

This  is  the  message  of  baptism,  according  to  our  "New  Testa- 
ment sources.  Baptism,  therefore,  is  a  great  and  beautiful  sacra- 
ment, full  of  precious  spiritual  meanings  handed  down  to  us  by 
Christ  and  the  apostles.  Our  .Quaker  friends  have  lost  much  in 
disc'ontinuing  it.  Though  it  is  possible  to  have  the  realities  for 
which  it  stands  without  it  itself,  the  danger  is  that  when  once  we 
have  abandoned  the  form,  the  testimony,  the  outer  seal,  we  shall 
](*sc  our  gi'ip  on  the  inner  grace,  the  inner  glory,  the  divine  truth 
and  blessing.     Both  must  be  kept. 

Dear  brethren  of  Drew  Theological  Seminary,  when  you  go 
out  into  the  ministry  you  will  be  met  by  two  temptations,  subtle, 
engrossing,  captivating,  like  seducing  angels  of  light.  One  will 
Ik,'  the  temptation  to  a  false  monism — there  is  a  true  monism — - 
the  temptation  to  resolve  all  things  into  God,  so  that  the  distinction 
between  natural  and  supernatural  fades  away,  between  the  miracu- 
lous and  the  nonmiraculous,  between  God  and  the  world,  between 
right  and  wrong.  In  that  dissolving  view  there  pass  away  also 
the  divinity  of  Christ,  the  incarnation,  the  fact  of  sin,  the  atone- 
ment, the  necessity  of  the  new  birth,  and  the  distinction  between 
ftnint  and  sinner.  That  I  call  the  monistic  temptation.  Before 
it  Christianity  itself  disappears  to  return  as  only  one  more  religion, 
tlie  best,  perhaps,  but  only  one  among  many.  Before  that  tempta- 
tion hundreds  of  ministers  in  our  Protestant  churches  have  stood 
entranced,  like  a  child  before  a  serpent's  jeweled  eye.  The  other  ^ 
temptation  I  call — for  want  of  a  better  word — the  Catholic  or 
niagieal  or  sacramental,  that  is,  that  spiritual  grace  and  life  are 
conveyed  to  us  in  or  through  material  channels,  the  idea  which 
lies  back  of  all  High  Church  theories  of  the  sacraments.  This 
idea  Catholicism  gave  to  us,  and  paganism  gave  to  Catholicism, 
While  monism  destroys  Christianity  by  evaporation,  this  material- 
istic sacramentalism  destroys  it  by  perversion  or  inversion,  ^ot 
on  Gerizim  or  at  Jerusalem,  but  men  shall  worship  the  Father  in 
spirit  and  in  truth.  Only  by  the  spirit  are  spiritual  things  dis- 
♦"ernrd  and  appropriated.  The  sacraments  are  vastly  precious  to' 
n«  In-cause  of  their  challenge  through  the  eye,  through  the  ear, 


24 


Methodist  Review 


[January 


through  the  senses,  to  the  soul,  to  the  spiritual  faculties.  Thej 
convey  no  grace,  but  they  proclaim  grace,  they  testify  of  Christ, 
they  set  forth,  they  seal  some  of  the  most  precious  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity and  some  of  its  inestimable  facts;  but  that  grace,  those 
blessings,  those  truths,  are  taken  hold  of,  are  appropriated  by 
the  spirit  only,  through  faith,  and  faith  alone.  I  appeal  to  you 
to.  dedicate  yourselves  to  a  lifelong  battle  against  those  mortal 
foes  of  the  Christian  religion,  a  false  rationalism  and  a  magical 
spurious  sacramentalism.  -  ' 


S)^ 


i.n.i^M'i  Ml  I* 


1910]     TAe  Bishop  a  Member  in  the  General  Conference  25 


^^cT.  I1._THE  BISHOP  A  MEMBER  IE  THE  GENERAL 
COIs^FERENCE— A  Study 

The  object  of  this  paper  is  to  point  out  the  relations  originall}' 
oatablii^hed  for  the  bishop  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and 
to  co!nj)are  them  with  some  views  of  the  present  day  respecting 
those  relations.  Throughout  this  comparison  episcopacy  will  be 
bad  in  mind  as  a  differentiated  system  of  ecclesiastical  government 
whoso  chief  function  is  episcopacy,  the  impersonal  factor  of  which 
is  the  bishop-o^ce,  and  the  personal  factor  the  bishop-o^cery  and 
that  each  of  these  is  inherent  and  organic,  and  an  inseparable 
necessity  of  the  system. 

The  policy  of  self-government,  by  the  "Independent"  and 
'•'Episcopal  Church"  into  which  the  United  Societies  in  America 
were  finally  organized,  had  its  initial  suggestion  in  the  transactions 
printed  in  "Minutes  of  Several  Conversations  between  the  Preach- 
ers in  Connection  with  Rev.  John  Wesley,  in  Kent  County,  April 
28,  1782,"  and  at  a  later  meeting  "at  Ellis's  Preaching  House  in 
Sussex  County,  Virginia,  in  May,  1TS2,"  as  follows: 

Ques.  12.   Ought  not  Brother  Asbury  to  act  as  General  Assistant  in 

America? 
Ane.  He  ought:    first,  on  account  of  his  age;    second,  because 

originally   appointed  by  Mr.  "Wesley;    third,  being  joined 

with  Messrs.  Rankin  and  Shadford  by  express  orders  from 

Mr.  Wesley. 

As  appears  in  this  record,  this  action  refers  to  Mr.  Asbury  not  as 
"iUsistant,"  but  as  "General  Assistant,"  and  was  confirmed  "at 
Ellis's  Preaching  House"  by  the  final  action  for  that  year,  which 
is  aa  follows : 

Qaes.  Do  the  brethren  in  conference  unanimously  choose  Brother 

Asbury  to  act  according  to  Mr.  Wesley's  original  appoint- 
ment, and  to  preside  over  the  American  Conferences  and 
the  whole  work? 

Ana.  Yes.  ' 

^r.  Wesley,  having  authority  over  "the  Societies"  both  in 
*^»i.qlai)d  and  in  America,  had  previously  appointed  llr.  Rankin, 
Mr.  Shadford j  and  Mr.  Asbury  as  his  assistants  in  America;  the 


26  Methodist  Review  [January 

term  of  the  first  two  having  expired,  they  returned  to  England, 
and  Mr.  Asbury,  who  had  remained,  then  became  the  only  as- 
sistant in  America,  and  continued  to  act  in  that  relation  until 
1784,  when,  having  been  appointed  by  Mr.  Wesley  to  be  "Joint 
Superintendent  with  Dr.  Coke  over  our  brethren  in  America," 
he  was  elected  and  ordained  a  bishop  in  the  church  into  which 
the  societies  were  organized  in  1784.  While  the  action  by  the 
brethren  in  1782  was  deliberate  and  unanimous,  it  is  not  to  be 
understood  as  in  any  sense  necessary  to  confirm  Mr.  Wesley's 
appointment  of  ~Mr.  Asbury  to  the  office  and  work  for  which  he 
had  originally  designated  him,  for  as  yet  Mr.  Wesley  had  full  au- 
thority over  the  societies,  and  "the  Conference"  as  a  corporate 
and  authoritative  body  had  as  yet  no  existence.  •  The  elective 
method  in  our  system  of  episcopacy  was  perhaps  foreshadowed 
by  Mr.  Asbury's  election  at  Ellis's  preaching  place,  and  took  per- 
manent form  when  later  ]\Ir.  Asbury  resolutely  declined  to  be 
ordained  to  the  office  and  work  of  a  bishop  in  "the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  in  America"  until  after  he  had  been  chosen  for 
that  work  by  the  brethren  present.  This  election  was  unanimous, 
as  were  those  of  1782,  and  was  no  doubt  intended  to  secure,  as  it 
did  seciffe,  the  approval  of  the  entire  ministry  of  the  church  for 
Mr.  Asbury's  previous  appointment  and  administration  as  "As- 
sistant" and  as  ^^ General  Assistant,"  and  also  their  moral  support 
for  him  as  joint  superintendent  ^vith  Dr.  Coke.  Neither  the 
appointment,  however,  by  Mr.  Wesley,  nor  the  election  by  the 
brethren,  made  Mr.  Asbury  a  bishop.  lie  became  a  bishop  only 
when,  after  having  been  elected  and  ordained  first  a  deacon  and 
then  an  elder,  he  was  finally  elected  a  bishop,  and  was  ordained 
according  to  the  duly  administered  forms  of  ordination  prescribed 
for  that  order  in  the  Liturgy.  These  forms  were  compiled  from 
the  English  Prayer  Book,  by  Mr.  Wesley,  who  had  sent  them 
over  by  Dr.  Coke,  by  whom  they  were  presented  at  the  "Christmas 
Conference"  in  1784,  and,  after  being  fully  considered  in  connec- 
tion with  "the  Bristol  letter,"  they  were  adopted  by  the  brethren 
then  assembled.  The  required  authority  and  "letters  for  the 
Episcopal  Office"  and  the  "letters  of  Episcopal  Orders"  delivered 
to  Thomas  Coke,  and  the  presb;^i;erial  to  Richard  Whatcoat  and 


lyiO]      The  Bishop  a  Member  in  the  General  Conference  27 

Thoinns  ^ascy,  whom  Mr.  Wesley — assisted  by  Mr.  Creighton 
.1.(1  other  presbyters  of  the  Church  of  England— had  ordained 
rc^I>cctivcly  as  "Superintendent"  and  as  "Presbyters"  for 
America,  were  no  doubt  presented,  when  these  brethren,  in  their, 
oniciul  capacity,  appeared  at  the  Christmas  Conference  and  took 
part  in  the  organization  of  "The  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in 
America."  The  most  authentic  statement  of  these  transactions  is 
Fct  forth  iu  the  Bristol  letter  and  in  the  official  interpretations 
of  them  in  the  Disciplines  of  ITS 7  and  1789,  each  of  which  appears 
in  a  later  page  of  this  paper.  "The  Bristol  letter"  is  a  marvel  of 
historical  condensation,  and  as  it  lies  at  the  very  foundation  of 
our  ciitire  ecclesiastical  system  and  is,  perhaps,  the  most  notable 
document  in  our  ecclesiastical  literature,  is  here  given  as  it  appears 
in  "Minutes  of  some  Conversations  between  the  Ministers  and 
Preachers  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  at  a  General  Con- 
ference Held  in  Baltimore,  January,  1785."  Mr.  Asbury  called 
the  preachers— yet  unordained  men  and  not  ministers  in  a  church 
— together  at  Baltimore  to  take  final  action  with  respect  to  this 
letter,  and  to  consider  the  organization  of  the  societies  into  a 
church,  which  event  occurred  at  the  "Christmas  Conference" 
immediately  after,  the  "Minutes"  of  which  seem  not  to  have  been 
printed  and  published  until  the  month  of  January,  1785.  They 
arc  as -follows: 

As  It  was  unanimously  agreed  at  this  Conference  that  circumstances 
made  It  expedient  for  us  to  become  a  separate  bodj,  under  the  denomina- 
tion of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  it  is  necessary  that  we  should 
here  assign  some  reasons  for  so  doing.  The  following  extract  of  a  letter 
from  Rev.  Mr.  John  Wesley  will  afford  as  good  an  explanation  as  can  be 
Clvcn  on  the  subject: 

"Bbistol,  September  10,  1784. 
-To  Dr.  Coke,  Mr.  Asbury,  and  our  Brethren  in  North  America. 

"1.  By  a  very  uncommon  train  of  providences,  many  of  the  provinces 
of  North  America  are  totally  disjoined  from  the  British  Empire,  and 
erected  into  Independent  States.  The  English  government  has  no  au- 
thority over  them  either  civil  or  ecclesiastical,  any  more  than  over  the 
Sl&tca  of  Holland.  A  civil  authority  is  exercised  over  them,  partly  by  the 
Congress,  partly  by  the  State  Assemblies.  But  no  one  either  exercises  or 
elalms  any  ecclesiastical  authority  at  all.  In  this  peculiar  situation  some 
thousands  of  the  inhabitants  of  these  States  desire  my  advice;  and  in 
compliance  with  their  desire,  I  have  drawn  up  a  little  sketch. 


28  ""  Metliodist  Review  [January 

"2.  Lord  King's  account  of  the  primitive  Church  convinced  me'  many 
years  ago  that  Bishops  and  Presbyters  are  of  the  same  order,  and  con- 
sequently have  the  same  right  to  ordain.  For  many  years  I  have  been  im- 
portuned from  time  to  time  to  exercise  this  right,  by  ordaining  part  of  our 
traveling  preachers.  But  I  have  still  refused,  not  only  for  peace's  sake; 
but  because  I  was  determined  as  little  as  possible  to  violate  the  estab- 
lished order  of  the  national  Church  to  which  I  belonged. 

"3.  But  the  case  is  widely  different  between  England  and  North 
America.  Here  there  are  Bishops  who  have  a  legal  jurisdiction.  In 
America  there  are  none,  and  but  few  parish  ministers.  So  that  for  some 
hundred  miles  together  there  is  none  either  to  baptize  or  to  administer 
the  Lord's  Supper.  Here,  therefore,  my  scruples  are  at  an  end;  and  I 
conceive  myself  at  full  liberty,  as  I  violate  no  order  and  invade  no  man's 
right  by  appointing  and  sending  laborers  into  the  harvest. 
*  "4.  I  have  accordingly  appointed  Dr.  Coke  and  Mr.  Francis  Asbury, 
to  be  joint  Superintendents,  over  our  brethren  in  North  America.  As  also 
Richard  Y/hatcoat  and  Thomas  Vasey,  to  act  as  Elders  among  them,  by 
baptizing  and  administering  the  Lord's  Supper. 

"5.  If  any  one  will  point  out  a  more  rational  and  scriptural  way  of 
feeding  and  guiding  these  poor  sheep  in  the  wilderness,  I  Will,  gladly  em- 
brace it.  At  present  I  cannot  see  any  better  method  than  that  I  have 
taken. 

"6.  It  has  indeed  been  proposed,  to  desire  the  English  Bishops  to  or- 
dain part  of  our  preachers  for  America.  But  to  this  I  object.  (1)  I  de- 
sired the  Bishop  of  London  to  ordain  one  only;  but  could  not  prevail. 
(2.)  If  they  consented,  we  know  the  slowness  of  their  proceedings;  but 
the  matter  admits  of  no  delay.  (3.)  If  they  would  ordain  them  now,  they 
would  likewise  expect  to  govern  them.  And  how  grievously  would  this 
entangle  us?  (4.)  As  our  American  brethren  are  now  totally  disentangled 
from  the  State,  and  from  the  English  hierarchy,  we  dare  not  entangle  them 
again,  either  with  the  one  or  the  other.  They  are  now  at  full  liberty 
simply  to  follow  the  Scriptures  and  the  primitive  Church.  And  we  judge 
it  best  that  they  should  stand  fast  in  that  liberty  wherewith  God  has  so 
strangely  made  them  free.  -  John  Wesley." 

The  action  which  followed  the  consideration  of  this  letter 
is  the  first  in  onr  ecclesiastical  history  having  the  dignity  of  a 
constitution  and  the  authority  of  organic  law.  It  bears  every 
evidence  of  deliberation  and  emphasizes  the  advent  of  '*T/ie 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  the  United  States"  and  the  dis- 
appearance of  "The  United  Societies  in  America."  Its  brevity 
and  comprehensiveness  are  noteworthy,  and  as  follows: 

Ques.  3.  As  the  Ecclesiastical  as  well  as  Civil  affairs  of  these  United 
States  have  passed  through  a  very  considerable  change  by 
the  Revolution,  what  plan  of  Church  Government  shall  we 
hereafter  pursue? 


1910]     The  Bishop  a  Memher  in  the  General  Conference  29 

Au«.  We  will  form  ourselves  into  an  Episcopal  Church,  under  the 

direction  of  Superintendents,  Elders,  Deacons,  and  Helpers, 
according  to  the  Forms  of  Ordination  annexed  to  our  Liturgy, 
and  the  Form  of  Discipline  set  forth  iu  these  Minutes. 

This  action  formally  organized  "The  United  Societies  in 
America"  into.  "The  ]!dethodist  Episcopal  Church  in  America" 
uiulcr  a  definitely  differentiated  ecclesiastical  system  which  was 
diftinctly  described  as  episcopal,  and  placed  this  church  "under 
the  direction  of"  an  integral  body  of  ministry  composed  of  three 
distinct  classes  or  orders  which  were  enumerated  as  "Superin- 
tondeiits,  Elders,  and  Deacons."  Each  of  these  orders  was  con- 
i^litutcd  according  to  certain  "forms  of  Ordination  annexed  to. 
our  Liturgy,"  which  forms,  duly  administered,  authorized  and 
intrusted  ihera  to  administer  the  rites  and  functions  which  were 
t-oiificled  to  this  ministry,  and  to  the  several  departments  or 
orders  of  which  it  was  composed,  according  to  "the  form  of 
Discipline  set  forth  in"  certain  "-Minutes."  The  relations  of  this 
body  of  ministry  as  a  whole  and  those  of  each  of  its  several^ 
orders  named,  to  the  church  and  to  the  respective  functions  com- 
mitted to  it  and  to  each  of  them,  is  thereby  established,  and  is 
therefore  fundamental  and  organic.  ITeither  the  body  as  a  whole, 
ijor  cither  of  its  oixlers,  nor  the  functions  intrusted  to  it,  or  to 
rithor  of  them,  can  be  otherwise  administered,  or  increased,  or 
diininiBhcd,  except  by  authority  equal  with  that  which  fixed  them. 
The  election  and  ordination  of  the  members  of  the  constituent 
orders  of  the  ministry  named  in  the  act,  and  the  election  and 
ordination  of  llr.  Asbury  as  "Superintendent"  by  the  three 
presbyters,  Dr.  Coke,  Mr.  Whatcoat,  and  Mr.  Vasey,  whom  Mr. 
We*-lcy  had  authorized  and  whom  "the  brethren"  had  approved 
and  received — and  assisted  also  by  Mr.  Otterbine,  at  'Mr.  Asbury's 
rc<juest — completed  the  organization  of  the  "Episcopal  Church" 
dcacribed  in  and  established  by  this  constituting  act. 

The  following  important  interpretation  and  declaration  re- 
•pocling  the  Bristol  letter  and  this  act  appears  in  the  Minutes  of 
1785: 

Therefore  at  this  Conference  we  formed  ourselves  Into  an  Independent 
^"rch.  and  following  the  counsel  of  Mr.  John  Wesley,  who  recommended 
»'=*  Ki.lsoopal  mode  of  Church  Government,  we  thought  It  best  to  become 


-  '  r 

30  Methodist  Review  [January 

an  Episcopal  Church,  making  the  Episcopal  ofRce  elective,  and  the  elected 
Superintendent,  or  Bishop,  amenable  to  the  body  of  mi7iisters  and 
preachers. 

The  deliberation,  dignity,  and  congruity  of  this  entire  action  and 
of  this  declaration  are  noteworthy.  The  bishop  is  carefully  made 
both  "elective"  and  "amenable" — but  not  amenable  to  Mr.  Wesley 
nor  to  Dr.  Coke — but  distinctly  declared  to  be  "elective"  by,  and 
"amenable"  to,  that  body  of  ministry  which  was  constituted,  or- 
dained, and  authorized  to  have  the  sole  direction  of  the  newly 
organized  church  by  the  Constitution  just  adopted.  The  follow- 
ing significant  explanatory  note  and  definition  appears  at  the 
close  of  the  Minutes: 

As  the  translators  of  our  version  of  the  Bible  have  used  the  English 
word  "Bishop"  instead  of  "Superintendent,"  it  has  been  thought  by  us  that 
it  would  appear  more  scriptural  to  adopt  their  term  "Bishop." 

Within  three  years  after  this  the  word  "superintendent"  disap- 
pears from  the  Minutes  and  the  term  "bishop"  thereafter  takes 
its  place  in  the  Discipline. 

The  first  separately  printed  edition  of  the  Discipline  (1787) 
gives  the  following  condensed  statement  of  these  events,  the  dis- 
tinction then  made  between  the  Anglican  *and  Eomish  Churches, 
the  system  of  ecclesiastical  government  under  which  those  Epis- 
copal Churches  were  governed  and  that  of  the  Episcopal  Church 
which  had  just  been  established  (178-4),  and  is  well  worth  the  ■ 
careful  study  of  every  student  who  wishes  to  know  the  facts  con- 
nected with  the  organization  of  his  church  as  stated  by  "the 
fathers": 

Sectiox  III  ' 
On  the  Nature  and  Constitution  of  our  Church 
We  are  thoroughly  convinced  that  the  Church  of  England,  to  which 
we  have  been  united,  is  deficient  in  several  of  the  most  important  parts 
of  Christian  Discipline,  and  that  (a  few  ministers  and  members  excepted) 
it  has  lost  the  Life  and  Power  of  Religion.  We  are  not  ignorant  of  the 
spirit  and  designs  it  has  ever  discovered  in  Europe,  of  rising  to  pre- 
eminence and  worldly  dignities  by  virtue  of  a  National  Establishment, 
and  by  the  most  servile  devotion  to  the  will  of  temporal  governors;  and 
we  fear  the  same  spirit  will  lead  the  same  Church  in  these  United  States 
(though  altered  in  name)  to  similar  designs  and  attempts  if  the  number 
and  strength  of  its  members  will  ever  afford  a  probability  of  success;  and 


VnO]     The  liUliop  a  Member  in  tJie  General  Conference  31 

nartlculurly  to  obtain  a  National  Establishment,  which  we  cordially  abhor 
AM  the  great  bane  of  truth  and  holiness,  the  greatest  impediment  in  the 
world  to  the  progress  of  vital  Christianity. 

For  these  reasons  we  have  thought  it  our  duty  to  form  ourselves  into 
«n  Independent  Church.  And  as  the  most  excellent  mode  of  Church  gov- 
ernment, according  to  our  maturest  judgment,  is  that  of  a  Moderate  Epis- 
copacy: and  as  we  are  persuaded  that  the  uninterrupted  succession  of 
UtBhojis  from  the  Apostles  can  be  proxen  neither  from  Scripture  nor  anti- 
quity, we  have,  therefore,  constituted  ourselves  into  an  Episcopal  Church, 
uzjcU-r  «he  direction  of  Bishops,  Elders,  Deacons,  and  Preachers,  according 
to  tho  Forms  of  Ordination  annexed  to  our  Prayer  Book,  and  the  Regula- 
tions laid  down  in  this  Form  of  Discipline. 

Aj'pt  nrinir  within  three  years  of  the  events  of  which  it  treats,  and 
U-ijij;  made  bv  those  who  took  part  in  those  events,  this  restatement 
nmv  well  be  accepted  as  representing  with  reasonable  accuracy 
njul  intelligence  "the  doctrine  of  the  Fathers"  of  1787  as  to 
inaltor.s  under  review.  It  serves  to  reaffirm  the  action  by  which 
the'  newly  organized  church  was  placed  "under  the  direction  of" 
that  body  of  ministry  the  several  constituent  orders  in  which  were 
distinctly  enumerated,  described,  and  constituted  by  the  organic 
act — and  7iot  any  longer  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Wesley,  or  of 
Mr.  Ashury  as  his  assistant. 

It  is  further  made  plain  that  the  episcopacy  adopted  was 
presihyterial,  as  was  that  of  the  primitive  church,  and  not  pre- 
lallcnl,  as  was  that  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  in  its  origin.  The 
ministry  was  to  be  itinerant,  and  not  "settled,"  the  supcrintendency 
was  to  be  "general"  and  not  diocesan,  and  the  method  of  operating 
it  was  "the  form  of  Discipline"  set  forth,  in  these  Minutes  which 
in  1808  was  called  "The  plan  of  our  Itinerant  General  Super- 
intondency."  The  entire  system  and  plan  of  1784:  was  thus 
n'affirmod  by  the  fathers  of  1787,  aud  under  this  system  and  plan 
the  bishop  was  "elective,"  but  not  by  a  papal  council,  nor  by  a 
royal  court,  nor  by  any  civil  authority,  nor  yet  by  the  decree  of 
any  Conference  or  other  corporately  organized  body.  He  was  to 
be  cho-senby  a  majority  of  the  votes  of  the  members  of  the  body 
of  ordained  ministers  and  preachers  of  the  church  of  which  body 
he  himself  was  a  member,  and  because  he  was  a  member  of  it  he 
'•va.s  made  amenable  to  this  body  for  his  administration  of  the 
'■piscopal  functions  with  which  he  was  intrusted  bv  it  and  for 


32  Methodist  Review  [January 

which    reasons    he    was    "received"    at    Baltimore    in    1784,    as 
described  by  .the  following  taken  from  the  Discipline  of  1789: 

Section  IV 
dn  the  Constituting  of  Bishops,  and  their  Duty 

Ques.  1.    What  Is  the  proper  origin  of  the  Episcopal  authority  in  our 
Church? 

Ans.  In  the  year  1784,  the  Rev.  John  Wesley,  who,  under  God,  has 

been  the  father  of  the  great  revival  in  religion  extending 
over  the  earth  by  the  means  of  the  Methodists,  determined 
at  the  intercession  of  multitudes  of  his  spiritual  children  on 
this  continent,  to  ordain  ministers  for  America,  and  for  this 
purpose  sent  over  three  regularly  ofdained  clergy;  but,  pre- 
ferring the  Episcopal  mode  of  Church  Government  to  any 
other,  he  solemnly  set  apart  by  the  imposition  of  his  hands 
and  prayer,  one  of  them,  viz.,  Thomas  Coke,  Doctor  of  Civil 
Law,  late  of  Jesus  College,  in  the  University  of  Oxford,  for' 
the  Episcopal  Office;  and  having  delivered  to  him  letters  of 
Episcopal  Orders,  commissioned  and  directed  him  to  set 
apart  Francis  Asbury,  then  General  Assistant  of  the  Meth- 
odist Society  in  America,  for  the  same  Episcopal  Office — he, 
the  said  Francis  Asbury,  being  first  ordained  Deacon  and 
Elder.  In  consequence  of  which,  the  said  Francis  Asbury 
was  solemnly  set  apart  for  the  said  Episcopal  Office  by 
prayer,  and  the  imposition  of  the  hands  of  the  said  Thomas 
Coke,  other  regularly  ordained  Ministers  assisting  in  the 
sacred  ceremony;  at  which  time  the  General  Conference 
held  at  Baltimore  did  unanimously  receive  the  said  Thomas 
Coke  and  Francis  Asbury  as  their  Bishops,  being  fully  satis- 
fled  of  the  validity  of  their  Episcopal  ordination. 

When  the  Constitution  placed  the  entire  church  "under  the 
direction  of"  the  body  of  ordained  ministry  which  it  had  consti- 
tuted, and  when  it  had  enumerated  and  constituted  the  bishop  as 
a  distinct  element  and  member,  and  made  him  the  representative 
and  administrative  member  for  carrying  into  effect  the  functions 
of  the  system  of  episcopacy  which  it  had  received  and  established, 
it  then  made  the  office  and  work  of  the  bishop  fundamental  and 
organic,  and  made  his  episcopal  relation,  authority,  and  juris- 
diction in  the  church  to  be  coexistent  with  that  of  the  church  itself. 
The  church  and  its  system,  the  system  and  its  ministry,  the  min- 
istry and  its  bishop,  were  one  and  inseparable ;  neither  could  be 
without  the  other.  The  Constitution  made  this  body  of  ministry 
subordinate  to  no  superior  authority.    It  was  sovereign,  and  exer- 


10 10]      The  Bishop  a  Member  in  the  General  Conference  33 

cinttl  euprcme  legislative,  supreme  executive,  and  supreme  judicial 
iK)\ver8  over  the  church  which  had  been  placed  ''under  the  direc- 
tion of  this  ministry  by  this  constitution.  For  the  exercise  of 
lho««o  |)Owcrs,  portions  of  the  ministry  met  at  their  ovm.  conven- 
ii-nrc  and  that  of  the  work,  as  to  time  and  place,  in  Annual  Con- 
fcp'nces — the  sum  of  the  finally  concurrent  actions  during  the 
vi-ar  being  the  final  and  completed  action  of  the  entire  body.  The 
prowl  h  of  the  church  and  the  increased  work  soon  made  this 
arrangi-mcnt  cumbersome,  if  not  impracticable,  and  in  the  year 
171)2  the  entire  body  of  ministry  was  called  together  at  Baltimore, 
in  what  Jesse  Lee  calls  "our  first  regular  General  Conference," 
for  the  broader  and  more  convejiient  exercise  of  its  powers.  The 
Conftrcnce  that  met  at  Baltimore  in  1784  was  called  by  Mr. 
Aj^bury  as  assistant;  but  this  was  called  by  the  body  of  ministry 
il*clf,  and  by  authority  of  this  body  the  composition  of  this  Con- 
ft-rcncx^  was  placed  under  limitations.  It  did  not  consist  of  the 
entire  body  of  ministry,  as  before,  but  only  of  "all  the  traveling 
preachers  who  are  in  full  connection  at  the  time  of  holding  the 
Conference."  This  numerical  limitation,  being  self-imposed,  was 
valid,  and  in  1800  was  extended  so  as  to  require  also  "four  years 
of  travel  after  being  received  into  the  Conference."  These  limi- 
tations neither  impaired  the  full  powers  confided  to  the  body  of 
ministry  by  the  Constitution  of  1784,  nor  excluded  either  of  its 
constituent  orders  from  membership  in  the  Conference.  They 
did  exclude  those  persons  whose  incompleted  relations  to  the 
ministry,  and  lack  of  experience,  disqualified  them  for  the  grave 
duties  and  responsibilities  involved. 

Under  this  constitution  the  body  of.  ministry  continued  to 
mfct  until  1812  in  successive  quadrennial  sessions  as  a  body  hav- 
ing supreme  powers,  which  had  been  originally  confided  to  it  by 
tlio  act  of  1784 — the  local  administration  remaining  with  the 
miDiBlry,  grouped,  as  heretofore,  in  Annual  Conferences. 

We  may  now  consider  the  rehtion  of  the  bishop  to  the  Gen- 
eral Conference  of  1792. 

The  authority  and  powers  conferred  in  1784  being  conferred 
^•n  the  body  of  ordained  ministry  then  constituted  as  a  whole, 
•nd  the  bishop  ha\'ing  been  made  a  constituent  element  and  in- 


34  Methodist  Review  -      [January 

tegral  part  in  this  body,  and  the  exclusive  administrator  of  epis- 
copal functions  in  the  church,  he  was  thereby  made^a  part  of  the 
composition  of  that  Conference,  and  could  neither  be  excluded 
from  it  nor  denied  the  rights  of  membership  in  it  without  impair- 
ing the  composition  of  the  Conference  and  the  completeness  and 
efficiency  of  its  work.  The  :(unctions,  rights,  and  relations  of  the 
bishop  as  a  constituent  element  of  this  body  of  ministry,  of  which 
rights  and  functions  he  was  made  the  custodian  and  adminis- 
trator, were  constitutionally  fixed  in  the  bishop,  and  could  be 
administered  only  by  him,  until  otherwise  directed  by  equal 
authority.  He  was  therefore  rccogTiized  as  necessary  to  and 
rightfully  a  member  of  this  body,'  and  took  part  in  its  proceed- 
ings without  challenge.  The  General  Conference,  duly  consti- 
tuted, composed,  and  in  the  exercise  of  the  powers  described,  met 
in  regular  quadrennial  session  until  ISOS,  and  in  that  session, 
before  adjourning,  after  long  debate,  so  modified  the  Constitution 
under  which  it  had  met  as  to  make  the  General  Conference  there- 
after a  different  kind  of  body  from  that  which  it  had  been  before. 
It  now  became  a  delegated-  or  representative  body,  under  a  new 
Constitution,  with  a  different  composition  and  a  different  kind 
of  powers.  These  were  not  the  full  and  unlimited  powers  of  the 
former  body,  but  only  "full  power  to  make  rules  and  regular 
tions,""  and  even  these  were  put  imder  certain  "limitations  and 
restrictions,"  which  were  clearly  set  forth  in  the  Constitution. 
The  General  Conference  being  now  no  longer  numerically  com- 
posed of  the  entire  body  of  ministry  as  before,  and  now  only  a 
representative  "and  no  longer  an  original  administrative  body, 
could  no  longer  exercise  the  same  powers  as  the  General  Con- 
ferences hitherto  had  done.  But  the  modified  Constitution  of 
180S  was  not  a  Constitntio)!  for  a  new  church.  It  was  a  Consti- 
tution only  for  a  new  General  Conference,  the  character,  compo- 
sition, and  administrative  powers  and  authority  of  which  it 
changed.  It  did  not  in  any  way  "change  or  alter  any  part  or 
rule  of  our  go\ernment  so  as  to  do  away  episcopacy  nor  destroy 
the  plan  of  our  itinerant  general  superintendency"  as  originally 
established;  nor  did  it  abridge  the  rights  of  trial  or  other  rights 
of  ministers  and  members  in  the  church;  on  the  contrary,   all 


lOlO]      The  Bishop  a  Member  in  the  General  Conference  35 

llic.-c  were  protected  and  perpetuated  as  they  had  been  established 
ill  ITSI.  The  church,  its  system  of  episcopacy,  its  plan  of  itin- 
rruiil  general  superintendency  and  its  ministry  were  not  only  not 
<listtirbed  by  these  limitations  and  restrictions,  but  were  carefully 
iKTjK-t anted  and  protected  by  the  terms  of  an  appended  proviso 
clnusc  which  clearly  left  all  these  as  they  had  been  originally 
intrusted,  under  the  direction  of  the  members  of  the  body  of 
ministry,  as  provided  in  the  Constitution  of  1784.  "With  equal 
onre  it  adjusted  the  future  relations  of  the  members  of  the  ministry 
in  the  respective  Annual  Conferences  so  as  to  secure  for  them 
equal  representation  in  future  General  Conferences.  It  made 
no  other  change  in-  the  composition  of  the  General  Conference 
than  a  reduction  in  the  number  of  those  who  had  hitherto  come 
ns  "the  meml)ers  of  the  Annual  Conferences."  The  change  was 
(luanlitalive  and  not  qualitative,  and  left  undisturbed  the  rela- 
lioijs  which  had  heretofore  existed  between  the  bishop  and  the 
(jcneral  Conference.  The  delegated  General  Conference,  thus 
t'-onstitutcd,  composed,  and  empowered,  assembled  for  the  first  time 
in  IS  12,  and  in  the  Discipline  of  that  year,  in  Chapter  I,  Section 
I,  to  which  reference  may  easily  be  made,  is  given  a  careful  review 
nnd  restatement  gi  the  reasons  for  organizing  the  church,  the 
nature  of  the  ecclesiastical  system  then  put  in  operation,  the 
validity  of  the  ordinations,  and  the  unity  of  the  church,  as  uuder- 
Ftood  by  the  delegates  and  representatives  convened  at  that  time. 

From  this  restatement  it  will  appear  that  the  new  General 
Conference  fully  understood  that  Thomas  Coke  and  Francis 
Asbury  had  been,  each  and  equally,  "set  apart  for  the  same 
Epi.^copal  Office"  by  Mr.  Wesley;  that  "letters  of  Episcopal 
Orders"  and  "letters  for  the  Episcopal  Office"  had  been  delivered 
to  them  (Discipline  of  1789)  ;  and  that  this  representative  Gen- 
eral Conference  also  was  satisfied  with  these  "letters  of  Episcopal 
Orders,"  and  with  the  validity  of  the  "Episcopal  Ordinations"  to 
th(?  episcopal  office  held  under  the  same  authority  by  both  Coke 
and  Asbury;  and  that  they  were  satisfied  also  with  the  kind  of 
episcopacy  and  "the  plan  of  our  Itinerant  General  Superin- 
tendency," protected  by  the  proviso  clause  in  the  new  Constitu- 
tion— and  with  the  church  as  they  had  found  it.     But  before* 


36  ■         Methodist  Review  [January 

considering  this  Constitution  further  it  will  be  well  to  turn 
again  to  the  relations  which  had  existed  between  the  bishop  and 
the  General  Conferences  of  1792  to  1808,  inclusive,  and  compare 
them  with  the  changes  made  at  the  end  of  that  time,  if  any,  by 
this  new  Constitution. 

We  have  already  found  that  the  organic  act  of  1784  had 
established  an  Episcopal  Church  with  a  body  of  ordained  ministry 
constituted  and  composed  of  three  classes  or  orders,  "according  to 
the  forms  of  ordination"  specified  in  that  act,  and  that  each  of  the 
classes  or  orders  named  therein  was  made  a  distinct  and  constit- 
uent part  in  this  integral  body  of  ministry,  and  that  the  church 
was  deliberately  placed  solely  "under  the  direction  of "  this 
ministry  as  a  body — and  not  under  That  of  the  "General  Assistant," 
or  of  the  "Joint  Superintendents,"  or  that  of  Mr.  Wesley,  or 
under  that  of  the  General  Conference.-  That  body  had  no  exist- 
ence as  a  body  until  after  the  church,  our  episcopacy,  the  ministry 
and  "the  plan"  had  been  in  operation  for  eight  years.  We  have 
also  seen  that  the  rights  then  established  and  the  functions  then 
intrusted  were  confided  to  the  ministry  of  the  ecclesiastical  system 
established  at  that  time,  and  could  never  be  withdrawn  from  this 
ministry,  or  from  either  of  the  constituent  orders  named  in  it, 
except  by  constitutional  process.  The  action  of  1792  fixed  the 
composition  of  the  governing  body  so  that  it  should  consist  only  of 
"the  traveling  preachers  who  shall  be  in  full  connection  at  the 
time  of  holding  the  Conference,"  rather  than  of  the  entire  ministry, 
as  before  that  time.  This  action  was  constitutional,  and  though 
it  reduced  the  body  numerically ,  it  excluded  neither  of  the  con- 
stituent orders  of  the  ministry  from  membership  in  that  body. 
The  relation  of  the  bishop  was  still  that  of  a  member  of  the 
ministry  and  a  member  of  the  General  Conference.  No  form 
seems  to  have  been  provided  or  specified  in  the  Constitution  of  1784 
for  ordaining  the  "helpers"  into  the  ministry,  and  they,  therefore, 
never  became  either  active  participants  in  "tlie  direction  of  the 
Church"  or  members  of  the  General  Conference. 

Under  an  episcopal  system  the  function  of  overseeing  is  an 
absolute  necessity,  and  the  right  to  oversee  is  a  right  inherent  in 
the  system,  and,  if  the  system  is  to  be  operative,  some  constituted 


1010]      The  Bishop  a  Member  in  the  General  Conference  3Y 

and  duly  authorized  functionary  must  be  provided  to  administer 
that  Fyotcni.  The  bishop,  who,  under  our  system,  is  made  this 
furjctionnry,  therefore  holds  an  inherent  and  indefeasible  right, 
n«>t  only  to  membership  in  the  body  of  ministry  of  this  system 
but  in  the  Conferences  as  well,  so  that  the  functions  committed 
t->  hitn,  as  the  authorized  ctistodian  and'  administrator  of  the 
l.;,iljo{vonicc,  may  neither  be  irresponsibly  administered  nor 
ij<>«'I(.'CtfHl  on  an  occasion  of  such  importance  to  the  church  as  a 
(JcTKTfll  Conference.  Moreover,  the  title  of  the  bishop  to  this 
membership  is  a  sort  of  duality,  the  units  in  which  are  the  title 
of  the  elder  before  he  is  ordained  a  bishop  and  that  of  the  bishop 
aficr  he  has  been  ordained  to^that  order — either  the  one  or  the 
otljor  of  which  he  may  rightfully  claim  during  the  acceptability 
of  his  ministerial  relations  to  the  church.  Under  this  form  of 
opit'copacy,  and  plan  of  itinerant  general  superintendency,  the 
bishop,  both  as  a  member  of  the  body  of  ministry  and  as  the 
<-piscopal  functionary  of  the  church,  had  participated  without 
challenge  in  the  transactions  of  previous  General  Conferences,  not 
cjTcopting  that  of  ISOS.  Constitutionally  possessed  of  these  rights, 
and  constitutionally  made  amenable  for  the  administration  of  the 
fuiictions  intrusted  to  him,  it  would  seem  that  neither  as  bishop 
nor  as  elder — and  certainly  not  as  both — may  the  bishop  be  dis- 
|K)fts<:-s.scd  of  the  one  or  released  from  the  other  except  by  equal 
constitutional  authority  and  action. 

The  Journals  show  that  Dr.  Coke  made  motions  eight  times 
ill  the  General  Conference  of  ISOO  and  fourteen  times  in  1804; 
that  Mr.  Asbury  spoke  in  his  own  behalf  once  in  ISOO,  made  four 
fno(io7i3  in  1804,  and  Bishop  Asbury  four  in  1808,  and  one  in 
1812,  and  addressed  that  Conference  five  times;  that  Bishop  What- 
ooat  made  one  motion  in  1804;  that  Bishop  McKendree  made  one 
in  1812.  In  1812  ten  motions  were  offered  by  "T/ie  Chair/'  So 
that  cither  as  Dr.,  Mr.,  Bishop,  or  The  Chair— and  as  both — 
ihwo  n\en  had  made  motions  and  participated  in- the  business  of 
ibo  General  Conference  during  this  entire  period  in  common  with 
«tl»cr  members  of  these  Conferences.  And  still  later  than  this, 
"LiJihcp  liforris  presented  petitions"  to  the  General  Conference  of 
^^i^,  and  "Bishop  Andrew"  cast  the  deciding  vote,  in  the  case  of 


38  Methodist  Revkio  [January 

a  tie  vote  on  the  motion  for  a  bishop  for  Africa,  and  defeated  that 
proposed  legislation.  In  1844  "Bishop"  Soule  engaged  without 
challenge  in  the  great  debates  of  the  General  Conference  on  the 
pending  questions  of  that  eventful  session.  According  to  these 
records,  therefore,  for  at  least  sixty  years  after  the  organization 
of  the  church  the  bishop  as  a  member  of  the  General  Conference 
seems  to  have  exercised  the  constitutional  rights  originally  con- 
fided to  him  as  a  distinct  element  and  integral  part  in  the  body  of 
ministry  "under  the  direction  of"  which  the  church  was  placed 
in  1784;  and  not  a  single  protest,  challenge,  or  question  against 
the  exercise  of  these  episcopal  rights  is  recorded  by  any  of  the 
Conferences  from  1784  to  1808,  notwithstanding  some  of  the 
members  were  those  who  had  been  in  all  these  Conferences  from 
the  very  beginning. 

If,  now,  the  system  of  episcopacy  and  the  "plan  of  our  Itin- 
erant General  Supcrintendency"  in  operation  from  1784  to  1808, 
together  with  the  constitutional  rights,  relations,  and  responsibili- 
ties then  affixed  to  them  and  to  each  of  them,  and  exercised  by 
them  jointly  and  severally,  are  what  the  "limitations  and  restric- 
tions" of  the  Constitution  of  1808  distinctly  forbade  the  General 
Conference  to  "do  away"  or  "destroy"  or  "alter  or  change,"  we 
may  now  return  to  the  Constitution  of  1808  and  inquire  whether, 
and  why,  and  hoiv — if  under  that  Constitution — the  relations  of 
the  bishop  have  come  to  be  those  of  "only  the  Presiding  Officer  of 
the  General  Conference,"  rather  than  those  of  the  bishop  in  the 
church,  whose  constitutional  function  and  right  it  is  "to  oversee 
the  spiritual  and  temporal  business  of  the  church" — wherever  the 
church  has  such  business. 

This  cannot  have  come  about  under  the  Constitution  of  1808, 
however,  for  that  Constitution  not  only  made  no  pretense  of  chang- 
ing the  existing  Constitution  of  the  church,  or  the  system  of 
episcopacy,  or  "the  plan  of  our  Itinerant  General  Supcrintend- 
ency," but  it  distinctly  forbade  that  this  should  ever  be  done 
except  according  to  the  proviso  clause.  Whatever  belonged  to  our 
episcopacy,  or  to  the  plan  of  our  Itinerant  General  Supcrintend- 
ency, under  the  Constitution  of  1 784,  was  left  undisturbed  by  the 
Constitution  of  1808. 


IVW]     The  Bishop  a  Member  in  the  General  Conference  39 

What  the  Constitution  of  1808  did  was  to  change  the  numer- 
ical composition  of  the  General  Conference  so  that  it  should  con- 
•iet  of  one  in  every  five,  instead  of  "the  entire  hodij  of  traveling 
prcAchcrs  in  full  connection  at  the  time  of  holding  the  Conference," 
ftj»  pn^vioiisly,  and  also  to  change  its  powers^  which  before  had  been 
nUv>luto  and  unlimited.  By  these  changes  it  transformed  that 
Kxlv  from  the  original  and  independent  body  it  had  been  up  to 
that  time  into  a  subordinate  and  delegated  body  composed  of 
irprtsoutatives,  selected  as  such,  and  on  a  basis  that  would  secure 
rqual  representation  in  the  future  General  Conferences  for  the 
members  of  the  ministry  in  the  several  Annual  Conferences. 
The  essential  and  most  conspicuous  change  made  is  that  the 
(icncral  Conference  was  now  no  longer  to  he  a  sovereign  body. 
Th«M?  changes  came  about  under  a  motion  which  was  declared  to 
be  "a  motion  for  regulating  and  perpetuating  the  General  Con- 
frronce,"  Out  of  this  motion,  after  long  debate,  finally  emerged 
ihc  Constitution  of  1808,  'which  grants  only  certain  specified 
powers  to  the  General  Conference,  which  action,  of  itself,  with- 
holds supreme  powers  in  all  things  fundamental,  and  also,  by  an 
added  proviso  clause,  continues  the  church  "under  the  direction 
of  the  body  of  ordained  ministry,  intrusted  with  it  by  the  Consti- 
tuijou  of  1784.  So  far  as  relates  to  this  paper,  the  provisions  of 
this  Constitution  are  as  follows : 

The  General  Conference  shall  be  composed  of  one  member  for  every 
Arc    members    of   each    Annual    Conference, 

One  of  the  General  Superintendents  shall  preside:  "The  General  Con- 
ference Bball  have  full  powers  to  make  rules  and  regulations  for  our 
Cburcb:*'  but  "Shall  not  change  or  alter  any  part  or  rule  of  our  govern- 
«^«(.  Ko  as  to  do  away  Episcopacy  or  destroy  the  plan  of  our  Itinerant 
CeofraJ  Superintendency." 

We  may  now  return  to  consider  what  change,  if  any,  is  made 
«n  the  relations  of  the  bishop  to  this  new  body  by  this  Constitu- 
tjon.  The  motion  declares  the  intention  to  be  to  perpetuate  and 
rrgulate  the  General  Conferences.  The  Constitution  itself  seems 
to  a-isnme  the  continued  relations  of  the  bishop  to  this  body,  and 
makcR  no  allusion  or  mention  of  either  excluding  or  including  him. 
n><-  bishop  had  always  been  and  was  now  a  member  of  the  General 
••nf«  reuce,  but  had  never  been  reckoned  a  member  of  the  Ajwvnl 


40  Methodist  Review  [January 

Conference;  so  that  no  reference  to  him  would  seem  necessary, 
nor  would  any  be  made,  unless  there  was  the  intention  to 
exclude  him,  or  to  modify  his  existing  relations.  The  phrase 
"Members  of  the  Annual  Conferences"  contained  in  the  speci- 
fication could  not  be  made  to  apply  to  him.  Such  relations 
had  never  before  been  the  basis  of  his  membership,  and  were 
not  now  made  so.  What  the  specification  excludes — and  all 
it  excludes — is  a  portion  of  the  former  numerical  composition 
of  the  General  Conferences,  and  this  exclusion  applies  only  to 
the  members  from  the  Annual  Conferences;  and  the  bishop  was 
not  now,  and  never  had  been,  among  these.  To  have  excluded, 
or  now  to  exclude, '  the  bishop  would  be  to  invade  the  constitu- 
tionally established  composition  of  the  Conference  and  the  long- 
recognized  rights  of  the  bishop  as  the  administrator  of  our  system 
of  episcopacy,  and  if  done  at  all,  it  must  be  done  by  open  amend- 
ment and  unmistakable  change — and  of  this  there  is  no  recorded 
evidence.  Having  participated  with  other  members  of  the  body  in 
the  proceedings  of  the  several  General  Conferences  prior  to  and 
including  this  session  (1S08),  the  bishop  was  no  doubt  well  in- 
formed of  its  intention  and  purposes  at  the  time  at  which  this 
Constitution  was  made,  and  it  is  hardly  probable  that  he  would 
have  taken  part  in  excluding  himself,  or  have  permitted  such  a 
proceeding  without  protest — and  of  this  we  have  no  record.  The 
fact  that  he  was  distinctly  enumerated  as  an  element  and  included 
-as  a  member  of  the  body  of  ministry  constituted  in  1784,  and  had 
participated  in  common  with,  and  as  part  of,  that  body  of  min- 
istry in  the  direction  of  the  church  for  twenty-five  years  previ- 
ously, not  only  gave  him  warrantable  claim  to  the  right,  but  made 
it  his  duty  to  continue  to  participate,  not  only  in  the  business  of 
the  General  Conference  of  1808  but  in  that-of  every  other  General 
Conference,  until  constitutionally  excluded  beyond  all  question — 
and  the  bishop  had  exercised  this  right.  Not  to  have  done  so  would 
seem  a  strange  and  unusual  attitude  for  a  bishop  in  an  Episcopal 
Church. 

But  it  seems  that  after  the  lapse  of  nearly  forty  years  under 
this  plan  in  our  suppvintcndency  a  contention  was  developed  in 
the  debates  of  1844,  affirming  that  the  Constitution  of  1808  con- 


lOlOj      'J'lic  Ilishop  a  Member  in  the  General  Conference  41 

uniXiA  the  saiiic  powers  and  authority  to  the  dtlegated  General 
(ouftrtKC'O  tlun  constituted — excepting  only  those  which  were 
Mnhj  enumerated  and  specified  in  the  "limitations  and  restric- 
j|„„^"„in  fact,  that  all  powers  not  specifically  excluded  were  in- 
(Iwl'd,  that  this  new  and  representative  body  was  sovereign,  and 
tiii-ht  rifilitfully  exercise  supreme  legislative,  supreme  executive, 
pt;d  Mspn-nic  judicial  powers  over  all  matters,  except  such  as  were 
•|^cilild  and  excluded  by  the  "limitations  and  restrictions"  in  its 
(oji.vtitutioii.  The  fundamental  defect  in  this  theory  is  that  if 
ihis  Ix.dy  was  representative,  it  was  subordinate,  and  if  subor- 
(I'uuiir,  il  coidd  not  be  sovereign.  This  contention,  advanced  by 
Dr.  llaiiilinc,  seemed  so  plausible  and  so  well  suited  to  carry  out 
ihf  p'.irposcs  of  the  majority  on  the  pending  question,  and  thus  to 
rv-7-traii»  the  fxercise  of  episcopal  functions  by  Bishop  Andrew, 
that  il  then  prevailed,  and,  to  a  large  extent,  has  prevailed  since 
that  time.  Without  stopping  here  to  controvert  this  contention, 
il  must  be  conceded  that,  eveai  though  approved  by  the  General 
Conference,  it  is,  at  best,  only  an  interprelaiion,  and  lacks  the 
sttthority  and  dignity  usual  in  and  essential  to  a  constitutional 
dix-laration,  and  that  it  is  embarrassed  with  the  fundamental 
dtfwt  pointed  out.  Whatever  may  be  the  merit  of  this  contention, 
it  will  not  be  herein  overlooked  that  the  questions  of  the  compo- 
rifion  arid  the  powers  of  the  delegated  General  Conference  are 
<-«]-.ially  fundamental  questions,  and  that  the  principle  on  which 
this  rontention  is  based  not  only  involves  the  powers,  but  the  com- 
j-^mdon  of  the  General  Conference  equally.  The  composition  of 
pn-ctHling  General  Conferences  had  included  almost  the  entire 
l»fvly  of  ordained  ministry  constituted  in  1784,  and  of  this  body — 
though  not  a  member  of  the  Annual  Conference — the  bishop  had 
Uvn  recognized  as  a  distinct  and  specified  element  and  part,  and 
a*  fiuch  had  been  conceded  and  had  exercised  the  rights  of  member- 
»hip  in  those  Conferences  from  the  beginning  without  question. 
Hut  {'incc,  and  by  virtue  of  this  contention,  these  rights  have  been 
denied  and  withheld.  »  ' 

In  its  si>ocification  as  to  composition  the  Constitution  of  1808 
ir.akfs  no  declaration  either  that  the  bishop  is  included  in  or 
«  ^rlM.lcd  from  the  membership  which  he  then  held  in  ihat  General 


"t^^^'^y?'" 


42  Methodist  Review  [January 

Conference,  and  had  held  in  all  those  preceding.  If  he  v/as  not  in- 
cluded by  this  specification,  neither  was  he  ea;cluded  by  it.  His 
right  to  membership,  having  been  definitely  recognized  as  being 
constitutionally  fixed,  if  changed  at  all,  must  now  be  constitu- 
tionally changed  and  as  distinctly  fixed  as  it  had  been  before.  But 
the  specification  does  not  make  this,  or  any,  change.  What  it  was 
intended  to  do,  and  what  it  did  do,  was  to  exclude  from  the  compo- 
sition of  the  delegated  General  Conference  a  portion  of  those  who, 
as  the  members  of  the  Annual  Conferences,  had  formerly  belonged 
to  the  General  Conference,  and  that  four  out  of  every  five  of  "the 
members  of  the  Annual  Conferences,"  who  had  formerly  come, 
now  failed  to  come  because  they  had  not  been  elected  as  the  dele- 
gates and  representatives  of  their  brother  ministers;  and  this  is 
all  it  does  exclude.  iSTo  other  change  in  the  former  composition 
than  this  numerical  change  is  proposed,  and  no  other  change  is 
made.  The  Constitution  gives  the  right  of  representation  to  the 
ministry  as  a  body,  and  with  it  gives  to  the  minister  who  is  chosen 
as  a  representative  the  right  to  represent  his  brethren.  It  gives 
no  right  of  representation  to  the  Conference  as  a  body.  The  right 
of  the  member  to  represent,  and  the  right  of  the  members  of  the 
Annual  Conferences  to  be  represented,  on  the  basis  of  representa- 
tion proposed,  are  derived  from  the  amended  sections  of  this 
Constitution,  and  on  or  by  virtue  of  these  sections  such  members 
are  made  members  of  the  delegated  General  Conference.  The 
rights  of  the  bishop  to  membership  are  inherent  and  constitu- 
tional rights,  and  were  imbedded  in  the  Constitution  of  the  church 
(1784),  and  these  remained  unchanged  by  the  provisions  of  the 
Constitution  of  the  General  Conferences  of  either  1792,  1800,  or 
1808.  The  rights  of  the  bishop-o^ce  are  organic  and  remain  as 
originally  fixed.  The  bishop-oy^cer  only — not  the  bishop-o^ce — 
was  made  amenable  to  the  General  Conference,  and  he  only  for 
his  administration  of  that  oSice,  but  the  oSice  itself  and  its  func- 
tions are  derived  from  the  organic  law  of  the  church.  It  is  plain 
that  the  phrase  "members  of  the  Annual  Conference"  in  the  speci- 
fication can  make  no  allusion  to  the  bishop,  and  that  the  Constitu- 
tion of  ISOS  docs  not  "change  nor  alter  any  part  or  rule  of  our 
government  so  as  to  do  away  Episcopacy  nor  destroy  the  plan  of 


IP*""""" "•-"••"       ^  "^  ■,'-•.-■■%; 

JUlO]     The  Bishop  a  Memher  in  the  General  Conference  43 

„ur  Ilincroiit  General  Superinteudency."  Episcopacy  lost  nothing 
in  ISUS  which  belonged  to  it  in  1784,  and  all  who  accept  the  con- 
crntiou  of  184-1 — namely,  that  all  that  which  is  not  plainly  ex- 
clutlod  is  included  by  the  Constitution  of  1808 — must  now  accept 
ihe  bishop  as  a  member  of  the  delegated  General  Conference. 

Some  of  the  consequences  growing  out  of  this  contention, 
howfvcr,  are  offensive  and  unwelcome,  as,  for  instance,  that  the 
tltlir  who  is  chosen  from  among  the  members  of  an  Annual  Con- 
frn.-nce,  and  later  is  ordained  a  bishop,  seems  to  lose  his  relations 
10  and  membership  in  the  Annual  Conference  and  in  the  Quarterly 
Conference,  while  he  acquires  none  in  the  General  Conference 
and  none  in  the  church!  Whether  this  appears  to  be  just  the  kind 
of  rt-lation  which  an  elder  should  acquire,  who  has  become,  and 
Ifciusc  he  has  now  become,  the  constitutional  administrator  of 
the  onli nations  necessary  to  this  plan  of  our  itinerant  general 
KUpcrintcndency,  and  to  our  system  of  episcopacy — ^let  those  who 
accept  the  llamline  contention  answer.  And  if  the  election  and 
ordination  of  an  elder  to  "the  office  and  work  of  a  bishop"  makes 
of  snch  an  elder  ^^onhj  an  officer  of  the  General  Conference"  and 
in  any  way  so  transforms  his  ministerial  character  and  changes 
bis  relations  as  to  deprive  him  of  membership,  and  the  privileges 
of  a  member  of  the  General  Conference,  why  is  not  every  other 
tl'.lcr  who  is  overtaken  by  an  election  to  other  "General  Conference 
ofiico"  thereby  reduced  to  the  same  relations  and  deprived  of  the 
*umo  privileges  and  membership  ?  Equity  seems  to  have  suffered 
ftorac  strange  displacement  of  the  center  of  gravity  by  this  unique 
and  incongruous  discrimination. 


q/,  /^^^c24>^^ 


44:  Methodist  Review  [January 


Aet.  III.— the  civic  value  of  the  old 

TESTAMENT 

What  the  Old  Testauiciit  has  been  in  the  shaping  and  the 
preservation  of  a  peculiar  and  virile  race,  in  the  history  of  Chris- 
tian worship,  in  the  enrichment  of  the  literature  of  the  nations, 
and  in  the  inspiration  and  comfort  of  innumerable  devout  souls 
need  not  be  rehearsed.  We  are  now  to  note  that  its  service  is 
-not,  and  has  not  been,  confined  to  the  worship  and  the 
poetry  of  the  saints  and  the  sayers,  but  has  been  notable  in 
the  legislation  of  states  and  in  the  social  ideals  and  social  forces  of 
two  millenniums.  Gibbon  says  that  during  the  later  centuries  of 
the  Roman  empire  '"'the  laws  of  Moses  were  received  as  the  divine 
original  of  justice,"  and  that  the  example  of  the  same  laws  inspired 
Roman  legislators  to  stern  treatment  of  the  bestial  vices  which 
threatened  the  life  of  society.  George  Adam  Smith  has  pointed 
out  the  influence  of  the  Old  Testament  upon  some  of  the  leading 
reformers  and  important  movements  of  the  Christian  centuries. 
"Chrysostora  scourged  the  vices  and  consoled  the  sufferings  of 
Antioch  with  the  words  of  Isaiah  to  Jerusalem."  Savonarola 
found  the  inspiration  and  the  material  for  his  message  in  Micah 
and  the  other  prophets,  dealing  in  unsparing  fashion  with  the 
politics  of  his  day  and  the  needs  of  Florence.  Dr.  Smith  finds 
many  a  point  of  contact  between  Isaiah  and  Cromwell  and  Maz- 
zini,  and  Dr.  Cheyne  compares  Jeremiah  to  Milton  and  Savo- 
narola, all  ardent  patriots  and  brave  citizens.  "From  the  time  of 
the  Reformation  to  onr  o\\n\  there  has  never  been  a  city  of  Prot- 
estant Europe  which  has  been  stirred  to  higher  ideals  of  justice 
and  purity  without  the  rewaking  of  those  ancient  voices  which 
declared  to  Jacob  his  sin  and  to  Israel  his  transgression." 

The  Old  Testament  had  a  powerful  influence  too  upon  vari- 
ous Christian  treatises,  political  or  semipolitical  in  aim,  upon 
Augustine  and  Dante  and  Knox  and  Milton  in  their  reasonings 
on  the  nature  of  the  state.  And  it  is  striking  that  in  the  contro- 
versies in  the  seventeenth  century  as  to  the  divine  right  of  kings 
versus  the  rights  of  the  people  the  Old  Testament  was  always  the 


i;.lOj  The  Civic  Value  of  the  Old  Testament  45 

aT^'iMi]  for  the  dcfonder?  of  democracy,  so  that  it  is  fair  to  conclude 
that  "iniioh  of  the  liherty  which  that  period  secured  for  us  is  due 
t..  tlu-  Old  Trstanient." 

In  thinking  of  the  value  to  citizens  of  these  old  Scriptures 
1. 1  xiA  (Miij.hasize  some  things  fundamental  to  a  nation's  life.    And, 
I'r^U  aofidl  riqhicousncss,  and  the  duty  of  citizens  to  demand  it. 
The  prc.j)htts  of  Israel  were  intense  patriots.      They  -^cre  firm 
Uliovcn?  in  the  superiority  of  their  own  nation.     Sometimes  they 
Nvi-ro  passionately  sure  of  the  inviolability  of  its  capital,  sometimes 
..f  it.H  uhiniate  supremacy,  always  of  the  high  place  it  had  in  the 
r.pird  of  Go<l  and  of  its  high  destiny  under  his  plan.     But  all 
\\nn  piij^sionate  devotion  did  not  make  them  blind.     Even  in  those 
rri-i-*  whvn  external   danger  threatened,  the  prophets  were  less 
r..);o«Tntsl  about  foes  without  than  foes  within.    Social  crimes  were 
i.^tloiial  dangi-rs  more  alarming  than   Assyrian   or  Babylonian. 
.*^.(id  Antos:  "I  know  how  manifold  are  your  transgressions,  and 
!;.;v  niiglity  are  your  sins — ye  that  afflict  the  just,  that  take  a  bribe, 
AI..1  that  turn  aside  the  needy  in  the  gate  from  their  right."     And 
.\!ir:,h  rricd:  "Hear  this,  I  pray  you,  ...  ye  rulers  of  the  house 
*'{  I.-^ruc'l,  that  abhor  justice,  and  pervert  all  equity.     They  build 
tjj>Zion  with  blood,  and  Jerusalem  with  iniquity.  .  .  .   Therefore 
»hall  Zion  for  your  sake  be  plowed  as  a  field,  and  Jerusalem  shall 
l-^x^inc  heaps.''    And  Isaiah  mourned,  "Ah  sinful  nation,  a  people 
Udcn  with  iniquity,  a  seed  of  evildoers,  children  that  deal  cor- 
ruptly! .  .  .  Why  will  ye  be  still  stricken,  that  ye  revolt  more 
»:;<!  more?  .  .  .  your  country  is  desolate;  your  cities  are  burned 
with  tire;  .  .  .  Except  Jehovah  of  hosts  had  left  unto  us  a  very 
»r:ia!l  remnant,  we  should  have  been  as  Sodom,  we  should  have  been 
2;kr    unto    Gomorrah."      The    wickedness    was    general,    neither 
'■Wiire  nor  mild,  but  blatant  and  extreme.     Rural  districts  were 
rursetl  by  it  and  the  capital  was  its  center  and  heart.     A  recent 
**rit*r  estimates  the  Old  Testament  as  the  tragedy  of  the  Fall  of 
Jtru>nlem  and  the  lamentations  of  Jeremiah  over  that  final  catas- 
«r«:'I-hc  as  its  sharpest  cry  of  anguish.      But  Jerusalem's   doom, 
'f  which  Xcbuchadnezzar  was  the  minister,  was  guaranteed  by 
''\t^  viivg  of  its  rulers,  the  perfidy  of  its  priests,  the  corruption  of 
•'•  [x-<»ple.     "How  is  thr>  faithful  citv  become  a  harlot!  she  that 


46  Methodist  Jxeview  [January 

was  full  of  justice!  righteousness  lodged  in  her,  but  uow  mur- 
derers. Thy  silver  is  become  dross,  thy  wine  mixed  with  water. 
Thy  princes  are  rebellious,  and  companions  of  thieves."  Xow  as 
then,  social  sins  are  our  peril,  and  now  as  then  there  is  a  concentra- 
tion of  the  forces  of  evil  in  the  city.  That  is  not  the  whole  of  the 
truth  concerning  it.  It  is  the  nerve  center  as  well  as  the  storm 
center  oi-our  civilization.  It  is  a  temple  into  which  the  glory  and 
honor  of  the  nations  come,  as  well  as  a  sewer  into  which  the  garbage 
flows.  Its  influence  has  always  been  important ;  it  is  now  becoming 
controlling.  It  is  civilization's  Malakoff,  to  be  captured  for  God 
before  the  kingdom  of  heaven  can  have  even  a  chance  for  ultimate 
supremacy  on  earth.  And  its  thrcatciiing  evils  need  to  be  studied 
with  the  eyes  of  the  old  prophets.  It  is  not  personal  comfort  but 
national  welfare  we  guard  when  we  fight  for  decent  tenements, 
and  a  sacredly  guarded  treasury,  and  police  officials  who  shall 
enforce  the  law  and  earn  their  salaries,  and  a  government  inde- 
pendent of  commercial  and  partisan  interests.  Always  the  study 
of  interior  vital  conditions  is  the  pressing  duty  of  a  patriot.  The 
main  business  of  government  is  not  to  prepare  for  war.  The  chief 
dangers  are  not  outside.  The  entire  history  of  civilization  shows 
the  dangers  of  immorality  to  nations.  "Xo  great  nation,"  says 
Dr.  Chamberlain,  "has  really  been  destroyed  by  attack  from 
without."  Xot  babylonia,  which  had  prepared  for  the  triumph 
of  Cyrus  by  its  soft  luxury  and  treasonable  conspiracies;  nor 
Persia,  whose  sordid  intrigues  and  royal  profligacy  gave  success 
to  the  assault  of  the  Arabs;  nor  Egypt,  who  before  she  was  struck 
by  Persian  and  Poman  and  ^Moslem  had  lost  her  power  to  resist ; 
nor  Greece,  who  had  succumbed  to  her  own  degenerate  passions 
long  before  her  political  overthrow;  nor  Pome,  where  effeminacy 
and  sensuality  and  imperial  scorn  of  the  people,  and  popular  dis- 
content and  wrath,  made  city  and  empire  an  easy  mark  for  Goths 
and  Huns,  The  dangers  are  within.  That  was  the  mournful 
experience  of  Israel  and  the  faithful  warning  of  her  brave  citizen 
prophets.  And  that  is' the  solemn  truth  about  ourselves.  A 
nation's  foes  are  they  of  her  own  household.  Social  impurities  and 
tiocial  crimes  arc  the  deadliest  foes  we  have. 

And,     again,    citizens    need    new    training    in     the    truth 


VJiO]  The  Chic  Value  of  the  Old  Testament  47 

which    has    such    splendid    emphasis    in    the    Old    Testament — 
;hal    individual    righlcousness    is    the    basis    of    social    welfare, 
tttxl    KO    the    secret    of   national    strength.      Dr.    Davidson    said, 
••The    Decalogue    is    the    most    wonderful    thing    in    literature, 
ihr   mo<l    MiiK-rb   generalization   of   the    duties   of   men   to   God 
am!  to  ii\ch  other."      And  that  immortal  document,  which  was 
iht'  luart  of  the  constitution  of  the  Hebrew  state,  is  drawn  in 
tH.rM.Mul  terms.    Made  for  the  nation,  its  demands  move  s^vift  and 
.-traight  ns  bullets  upon  the  conscience  of  the  individual.     Thou 
..halt  not  worship  false  gods,  nor  trample  God's  holy  day  in  the 
mire,  nor  dishonor  parents,  nor  steal,  nor  kill,  nor  commit  adultery, 
ti(»r  lie,  nor  covet.     Personal  morality  is  the  foundation  of  the 
luition.  tlie  hope  and  guarantee  of  its  life.    And  in  the  measure  that 
iiidividual  consciences  heard  those  orders   and  obeyed  them,  in 
ihat  nicasure  national  life  was  made  secure  and  rich.     xVnd  that, 
Rurely,  is  valuable  for  the  citizenship  of  to-day.     There  could  be 
nothiug  iK-ller  for  our  nation's  defense  and  cleansing  than  a  new 
^t\ic]y  of  the  old  law  which  is  at  the  root  of  all  our  jurisprudence. 
\a'\.  .Miigle  souls  allow  no  substitute  to  crowd  God  from  his  place 
<»f  authority,  make  his  day  neither  grimy  with  toil  nor  noisy  with 
*lK>rti,  but  keep  it  quiet  and  white  for  spiritual  uses.    Let  no  man 
kill  his  brother  by  inches  ^vith  oppression,  nor  steal  from  him  by 
unfair  business  methods,  nor  by  gambling  or  graft — steal  neither 
money  nor  time  nor  brains  nor  conscience — nor  lie  about  him,  nor 
U*  <ii --contentedly  envious  of  his  treasures.    If  we  could  have  that — 
a  n(  w  res])on?e  to  the  old  law,  a  new  passionate  devotion  to  personal 
fiioriiiity,  i-trict,  straight,  absolute,  with  no  difference  of  quality 
U  l\vt^-n  a  man's  private  and  public  conscience — a  lot  of  our  press- 
in;:  I>r<ibiems  would  be  solved.     Conformity  to  custom — ecclesi- 
*Atiral,  couimercial,  or  social — is  a  miserable  makeshift  for  that. 
I'it  ty  is  no  substitute  for  it.    "Your  new  moons  and  your  appointed 
fva«L-i  my  soul  hateth:  ...  I  am  weary  to  bear  them.  .  .  .  Put 
•  way  ihe  evil  of  your  doings.  .  .  .  Cease  to  do  evil;  learn  to  do 
*'  11" — so  cried  Isaiah,  the  royal  prophet.     The  immorality  which 
Tipj.Ktl  the  nation  could  not  be  atoned  for  by  a  lot  of  religious 
rvTniJUstics.     Wickediiess  made  worship  nauseating.     Church,  as 
v..  !1  OS  state,  needs  the  iron  of  moral  purpose  in  its  blood.    It  does 


48  Methodist  lie  view  [January 

to-day.     "Our  first  need,"  says  Professor  Peabody,  "is  not  ortho- 
doxy nor  ecstasy,  but  morality." 

And    a   third   truth    of   which   the    Old    Testament    is    our 
finest  illustration   is  that  spiritual  religion  is   the   real   ground 
of   enduring   social   and    moral    order.      It  is   no  mere   personal 
treasure,    useful    to    the    individual    in    regulating    his    tempers 
and    guaranteeing    his    comfort;    it    is    a    national    need.      ]Ma- 
nasseh  paganized  his   people,  or  tried  to;   established  paganism 
as  the  religion  of  the  state,  worshiped  the  stars  of  heaven,  had 
furnaces  in  the  streets  in  which  people  baked  cakes  as  offerings  to 
Astartc,  burned  incense  on  the  roofs  of  houses,  consecrated  the 
sacred  vessels  of  the  temple  to  P.aal,  restored  human  sacrifices, 
persecuted  and  terrorized  the  followers  of  Jehovah;  and  as  a  result 
licentiousness  and  inunorality  unspeakable  ran  riot,  and  the  nation 
tottered  in  mortal  weakness  and  would  have  reached  its  political 
end  sooner  if  the  inevitable  fate  had  not  been  delayed  by  some 
measure   of  reform   under  Josiah.      God  is   the  only   source   of 
national  prosperity  or  adversity.     lie  held  in  leash  the  nations 
from  whom  at  last  Israel's  ruin  came.     He  whistled  to  them  and 
they  sprang  to  do  his  bidding.     He  used  them  as  scourges  to  flay 
his  people.    The  law  of  his  rule  is  the  law  of  righteousness.   Those 
who  would  get  his  blessing  must  not  desert  his  way.      To  the 
prophets  God  was  absolute  in  power  because  absolute  in  righteous- 
ness— "righteousness  wider  than  the  widest  world,  stronger  than 
the  strongest  force."     The  Holy  God  the  real  basis  of  the  nation's 
life — that  was  the  clear  perception  of  the  prophets,  and  is,  indeed, 
the  lesson  of  the  entire  Old  Testament.     The  history  of  Israel  is 
written  from  the  religious  standpoint  and  with  religious  ends  in 
view.    We  get  in  it  glimpses  of  military  movements,  and  political 
life,  and  social  customs,  but  its  main  business  is  to  set  before  us 
relio-ious  crises  and  tendencies  and  needs  and  provisions.     And 
God,  who  is  the  explanation  of  the  nation's  history,  is  its  political 
•  Head,  discharging  through  his  agents  the  functions  of  civil  govern- 
ment.     He    is    profoundly    interested    in    social    righteousness. 
Obedience  to  him  is  the  guarantee  of  social  order.     When  his 
judgments  have  been  inflicted  upon  liis  people,  with  their  corrupt 
judges  and  cruel   nabobs  and  fawning  priests,  the  social  abuses 


j,^,j(ij  The  Civic  Value  of  the  Old  Tesiament  49 

.!ull  U-  purged  away  and  the  judges  be  again  as  aforetime  and 
o.tjnst  lors  as  at  the  beginning,  and  Jerusalem  be  called  ''the  city 
ff  ri^hteoubuoss,  the  faithful  city."  This,  surely,  is  a  task  for 
citi/i-n.-'hii) — to  make  the  righteousness  of  God  supreme  in  courts 
..f  jtj.^titv,  and  halls  of  legislation,  and  methods  of  trade,  that  our 
rjti«T<  niav  be  cities  of  righteousness  and  our  land  the  Holy  Land. 

l!i-!icath  all  the  acknowledgment  of  God  in  the  nation's  life 
iijtiM  b<.>  the  recognition  of  God  as  the  inspiration  of  the  character 
«.f  the  individual.  The  Decalogue  was  mediated  to  men  through 
Moses  tlie  i)rophet,  and  was  the  gift  of  the  good  God.  We  have 
trachcrs  who  ex])lain  that  religion  is  possible  without  God.  He 
limy  1)0  u^(•f^l,  but  he  is  optionaL  Religion  is  simple  morality 
wliirlj  iie<(]s  Jio  trace  of  theology  to  make  it  complete.  Duty  is  a 
\h\y.'^  wilhiiut  divine  meaning.  Tolstoy  says  religion  is  a  man's 
;.i  \v  rt  hit  ion  to  the  world  about  him.  There  isn't  any  world  above 
Llr.i,  or,  if  there  is,  he  is  at  liberty  to  ignore  it.  But  Micah  reminds 
u-  that  our  moral  perceptions  are  from  God.  "He  hath  showed 
t)i<  o,  O  man,  what  is  good  ;  and  what  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee, 
t'-jl  tn  do  ju^tly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy 
<J«»<lf'-  We  have  inscribed  that  above  an  alcove  in  our  Con- 
;:rfK'-ioiud  Library,  which  is  our  national  recognition,  intentional 
'•r  otherwise,  of  the  fact  that  God  is  the  everlasting  Source  of  duty 
ai.d  its  only  adequate  explanation.  Our  social  decencies  and  social 
•tTvii-is  arc  his  requirements.  "To  regard  all  our  duties  as  divine 
f«-:innanduK'nts,"  which  is  Kant's  definition  of  religion,  will  put 
t.<  rve  and  adamant  into  a  man's  conscience. 

What  are  some  specific  duties  of  a  citizen  as  suggested  by 
ihi-  f)l(l  Te>tument  ?  First,  it  is  clear  that  a  citizen  must  be 
if\icrtstrd  in  his  own  day  in  order  to  be  valuable  to  the  state. 
I'lji.-i  was  the  attitude  of  Israel's  great  prophets.  They  were 
iritriiK-ly  eager  for  the  cure  of  current  sins  and  the  meeting  of 
'-urn-ul  needs.  The  social  abuses  and  individual  corruption  of 
i'TUH'T  years  may  be  historically  interesting,  and  their  study 
furnihh  valuable  bints,  but  present-day  welfare  is  to  be  the  pur- 
\'^''-^'  of  the  historical  student.  And  a  glimpse  into  the  future  may 
'•■••  interesting;  a  prediction  of  some  new  order  of  the  ages,  of 
»-'UiO  Ile^v  and  better  social  conditions,  may  be  cheering  and  may 


50  ^         Methodist  lieview  [January 

be  possible.  For  so  far  as  prediction  is  the  perception  of  the 
relation  of  principles  to  events,  an  outcome  of  an  understanding 
that  righteousness  blesses  a  nation  and  sin  curses  it,  so  far  a 
forecast  of  national  life  may  be  a  function  of  the  good  citizen. 
But  it  is  to  be  undertaken  in  the  interests  of  the  present.  Even 
when  forecasting  the  future  the  prophet  was  trying  to  influence 
his  own  day.  Prediction  was  an  instrument  of  reform.  He  was 
supremely  interested  in  his  own  time  and  its  problems.  lie  did 
not  shirk  those  problems  and  gather  the  robes  of  his  safe,  useless 
citizenship  about  him.  While  he  was  looking  and  longing  for 
an  ideal  order,  with  his  soul  full  of  that  ideal  and  the  great  issues 
connected  with  it,  he  found  signs  of  its  coming  in  the  events  of 
his  day — and  he  had  clear  sight  of  the  evils  which  were  current 
and  refused  to  submit  to  them.  Harmony  with  things  as  they 
were  was  no  ])avt  of  his  policy.  So,  then,  the  reason  for  the 
prophet's  message  was  in  the  needs  of  his  day.  His  inspiration 
was  not  speculative  but  practical.  His  perception  of  God's 
nature  and  God's  will  was  clear  because  of  his  flaming  devotion 
to  God  and  country.  He  had  vision;  he  Avas  a  seer.  But  the 
basis  of  all  his  vision,  religious  and  political,  was  native  insight 
and  the  exercise  of.it.  His  faculties  were  always  stretched,  and 
sometimes  had  periods  of  intense  activity.  He  was  a  watchman, 
a  se;iitinel.  His  seeing  was  his  habit  and  his  work.  Habakkuk 
said,  ''I  will  stand  upon  my  watch,  and  set  me  upon  the  tower, 
and  will  look  forth  to  see  what  he  will  speak  with  me."  It  was 
this  attitude  of  the  prophet  that  helped  to  loosen  the  seals  of 
the  future.  It  is  a  truism  now  to  say  that  the  notable  character- 
istic of  the  prophet  was  not  vision  but  passion — moral  passion, 
spiritual  passion.  And  if  vision  of  the  future  of  men  and  the 
movements  of  God  blessed  his  pages,  as  it  did,  the  vision  was 
related  to  the  passion.  It  was  his  own  attitude  that  opened  his 
eyes  to  the  future  and  loosened  his  tongue  to  tell  its  secrets.  If 
we  say  that,  these  glimpses  of  futurity  were  revelations  of  God 
we  but  alter  the  form  of  the  statement ;  for  the  revelations  of 
God  arc  conditioned  by  the  spiritual  attitude  of  men.  More- 
over, in  this  earnestness  of  soul  M'as  the  reason  for  the  prophet's 
Authority.     He  became  the  messenger  of  God  because  his  intens- 


:...jO)  The  Civic  VaJue  of  the  Old  Testament  51 

,.v  xuvhcl  and  made  possible  God's  use  of  him.     God  is  not 
a-l.ltrarv,  nnd  his  choices  fall  upon  those  ^vho  are  fit.    Plato  said, 
"So   :••'•'»   '"  ^'-^  ^^^^^^   *'^"^"'^  prophetic  truth  or  inspiration, 
l,.a  roviv.'t*  the  inspired  ^vord  when  his  intelligence  is  enthralled 
I'.v  rl-vi)  or  denieuted  by  some  distemper."     That  mav  explain 
«h*t   n   J.rupbot  was   to   an    ancient   Greek,   to   whom   prophecy 
i';.v..lvtnl   frenzy,  but  to  an  ancient  Hebrew  a  prophet  was  not 
o".c  who  had  Uiken  leave  of  his  senses  but  one  who  had  taken 
l,Avo  of  selfish  aims.     He  was  a  man  of  God,  able  to  be  a  mes- 
•.-nfTiT  because  emancipated  from   self   and   surrendered  to   the 
v,\n  divine.     And  that  which  constitutes  fitness  for  God's  uses 
>;,vrs  iH.xM-r  over  other  lives.     Xo  intellectual  ability  could  give 
a  pruphcl  Nvvight  if  he  lacked  sincerity.    It  was  the  unquestioned 
.i:-:lrn<>s   of  the    prophet's   heart   which   gave   authority  to   his 
.jHtt'h.  and  maJc  him  sometimes  the  counselor  of  kings  and  the 
roi.li.laiit  of  God.     This  our  citizens  should  be  trained  in— un- 
wlilsh  ititcrest  in  their  country's  needs.    And  this  too:  an  unspar- 
ing «lcnunciation  of  current  sins.     jSTo  complacency  about  God's 
!ovc  for  Ihe  nation  blinded  the  prophets  to  the  nation's  departures 
fr>M!i  liis  will.     They  were  faithful  as  censors  even  at  cost  of 
I-  rM.iiiil  jK)pularity.     They  could  even  dare  to  be  called  traitors, 
ft.  v.(  re  Amos  and  Jeremiah.     "The  prophets,"  said  John  Stuart 
Mill,  -wiTc  a  power  in  the  nation,  often  more  than  a  match  for 
kinirs  and  i.ricsts,  and  kept  up  in  that  little  corner  of  the  earth  the 
entap>ni<in  of  infiuences  which  is  the  only  real  security  for  con- 
timud  progress.    Eeligion,  consequently,  was  not  then  what  it  has 
Ui:u  in  so  many  other  places — a  consecration  of  all  that  was  once 
<-^tabli-lud,  and   a  barrier   against  further  improvement."     We 
Lave  to-day,  as  always,  those  who  would  persuade  the  people  that 
tny  liur.-h  criticism  of  great  commercial  leaders  or  any  disturbance 
of  existing  conditions  is  unpatriotic.      Old  Jewish  patriots   did 
y.'A   think  so.      All   movements,  political   and  commercial,   must 
♦  ubmil  to  the  tests  of  righteousness.     The  prominence  of  an  evil 
•  •Ji"!  not  make  it  immune  from  criticism.     Xor  did  the  prominence 
•'f  a  Hinnc-r,  whether  ecclesiastical  or  political,  make  those  patriots 
^iniid.     They  discriminated  between  apparent  and  real  character. 
1'lry  were  constantly  calling  attention  to  the  presence  of  sham 


52^  Mdliodlst  lie  view  [January 

religion  as  a  civic  danger.  There  was  danger  then,  as  there  is 
now,  that  men  apparently  religious  shall  be  taken  as  models  of 
citizenship.  But  no  sympathy  for  such  apparent  religiousness 
must  blind  to  real  character  or  prevent  just  punishment  on  moral 
crookedness.  Ivor  should  high  position  bring  exemption  from 
criticism.  There  are  not  two  standards  of  morals — one  for  the 
high  and  one  for  the  low.  Only  one.  "Thou  art  the  man,"  said 
I^Tathan  to  King  David.  Elijah  proj^hesied  the  doom  of  Ahab  the 
despot  because  ho  dared  to  steal  a  poor  peasant's  estate. 

We  must  not  argue  that  this  work  of  measuring  the  nation's 
leaders  and  testing  them  by  eternal  standards  was  reserved  for  a 
sacred  order  in  ancient  Israel.  Those  brave  critics  and  reformers, 
the  prophets,  were  from  the  body  of  the  citizens.  The  prophet  was 
a  man  among  men.  Dr.  Bccehcr  reminds  us  that  his  appearance 
is  not  accurately  reported  by  the  artists  any  more  than  are  the 
angels  when  they  are  portrayed  as  feminine  in  spite  of  the  fnct 
that  in  the  recorded  manifestations  they  are  always  masculine. 
The  artists  sketch  the  prophet  with  exceedingly  primitive  garb 
and  with  the  marks  of  a  wild  and  ascetic  life.  They  probably 
get  their  ideal  from  the  description  of  Elijah.  But  Elijah  is  not 
to  be  regarded  as  the  .pattern  of  the  prophets.  There  is  evidence 
that  his  uniform  was  peculiar  to  himself.  In  externals  the 
projjhet  was  doul>tless  like  his  fellow  citizens.  And  there  is  no 
evidence  that  the  prophets  belonged  to  a  select  order  and  received 
ordination  to  office.  God  raised  them  up  when  occasion  required, 
and  the  human  fitness  and  readiness  of  the  man  were  doubtless 
the  conditions  he  demanded.  "As  a  prophet  he  was  simply  a  citizen 
with  special  work  to  do."  lie  might  be  a  private  or  might  be  an 
official,  either  civic  or  ecclesiastical.  Then  as  now  and  now  as 
then,  "A  manly  man  is  the  truest  channel  of  communication 
between  man  and  God."  Would  God  all  the  Lord's  people  were 
prophets!  These  devoted  servants  of  God,  who  were  jealous  of 
his  honor  and  were  keen-eyed  sentinels  of  the  nation,  became  prom- 
inent and  influential  in  national  affairs.  Kings  relied  upon 
Isaiah,  and  even  Xebuchadnezzar  showed  marked  courtesy  to 
Jeremiah.  And  we  as  citizens  might  learn  the  lesson  of  calling 
to  places  of  prominence  for  statesmanlike  work,  for  keen  insight 


j.jjQi  JVic  Civic  Value  of  the  Old  Testament  53 

into  the  nicauiiig  of  current  events,  for  perception  of  the  laws 
which  cuiitrol  destiny  and  vision  of  the  sure  outcome  of  human 
fh>Ii<-its  and  conduct,  men  of  spotless  character,  strong  brain,  and 
uns.-lfish  purpose.  It  has  been  suggested  that  such  men  ih  Israel 
wj-rc  drafted  for  the  prophetic  ranks,  and  from  the  prophetic 
clusi  cariK'  the  statesmanship  as  well  as  most  of  the  literature, 
historic  and  poetic,  of  the  nation.  Such  a  process,  with  us,  would 
i:i.  nil  freedom  from  the  slavery  of  party  machines. 

Okcc  more:  We  might  learn  something  of  a  good  citizens 
(••uxprr  from  the  brave  hopefulness  of  the  patriots  of  Israel.  There 
i-,  j;s  Dr.  Peabody  has  pointed  out,  a  contrast  between  the  social 
teachings  of  the  prophets  and  those  of  Jesus — as,  indeed,  would 
U.MX  peeled,  since  a  reformer  and  a  revcaler  occupy  different  stand- 
p'iuts.  But,  nevertheless,  while  they  wrestled  with  the  social  agi- 
tiitioi's  and  he  looked  upon  such  unrest  from  above,  and  while 
ihcy  had  not  his  serenity  and  untroubled  consciousness  of  abun- 
dant |)o\ver,  they  did  have  a  robust  courage,  an  unfailing 
ojitiinism.  The  dross  that  cheapened  and  cursed  their  nation  was 
li»  l»o  purged  away,  the  old  truths  would  again  obtain  mastery,  the 
"hi  clean  liabits  would  return,  a  king  would  ''reign  in  righteousness 
aiid  princes  decree  justice,"  and  Israel  would  be  schoolmaster  and 
lawgiver  to  the  nations.  An  earnest  patriot  will  not  have  his 
7j-al  damaged  by  a  cheery  spirit.  Earnest  criticism  has  no  nec- 
<-«-ary  connection  with  despairing  pessimism.  And  while  those 
«»id  propliets  regarded  war  as  the  scourge  of  God,  useful  to  Israel 
in  the  way  of  discipline,  they  saw  a  glad,  coming  day  when  war 
^h'lidd  bo  no  longer  necessary,  and  bathed  their  prophecies  in  the 
K"Mrn  glow  of  that  day.  "Xation  shall  not  lift  up  sword  against 
liniion,  neither  shall  they  learii  war  any  more."  The  very  forces 
of  destruction  are  to  be  changed  into  helpful  ministries.  Swords 
'•liall  Ik;  beaten  into  plowshares  and  spears  into  pruning  hooks. 
It  will  be  in  the  line  of  patriotism  to  cherish  and  champion 
ujiivirsal  peace. 

To  recognize  social  crimes  as  national  dangers,  individual 
r'ghtrousne.^s  as  the  basis  of  social  welfare,  and  the  rule  of  God 
«  Ihe  real  ground  of  all  social  and  moral  order  and  the  secret 
'»<"  a  nation's  power;  to  be  profoundly,  unselfishly  interested  iu 


54  ...      Methodist  Review  [January 

current  events,  and  cultivate  a  keen  discriminating  insight  into 
the  meaning  of  daily  history  and  the  character  of  men,  and  choose 
as  our  leaders  men  of  vision  and  moral  passion,  and  keep  sunny 
when  things  are  dark,  and  love  peace  when  tumults  rage — these 
are  some  of  the  lessons  in  citizenship  brought  to  us  by  this  wonder- 
ful old  book.  Let  these  lines  of  Pdchard  Watson  Gilder  emphasize 
these  duties  for  us: 

Do  thy  part 
Here  in  the  living  day,  as  did  the  great 
Who  made  old  days  immortal!     So  shall  men, 
Gazing  back  to  the  far-looming  hour. 
Say:  "Then  the  time  when  men  were  truly  men: 
Though  wars  grew  less,  their  spirits  met  the  test 
Of  new  conditions;  conquering  civic  wrong; 
Saving  the  state  anev.-  by  virtuous  lives; 
Guarding  the  country's  honor  as  their  own. 
And  their  own  as  their  country's  and  their  sons': 
Defying  leagued  fraud  with  single  truth; 
Not  fearing  loss;  and  daring  to  be  pure. 
When  error  through  the  land  raged  like  a  pest 
They  calmed  the  madness,  caught  from  mind  to  mind, 
By  wisdom  drawn  from  eld  and  counsel  sane; 
And  as  the  martyrs  of  the  ancient  world 
Gave  Death  for  man,  so  nobly  gave  they  Life: 
Those  the  great  days  and  that  the  heroic  age." 


/j^uiy  /H^>(yC&l^c^i^ 


jjtjQ-j  Thomas  Arnold  at  Oxford  55 


Akt.  IV.— TII02^[AS  APcXOLD  at  OXFOED: 
A  RETROSPECT 

TiiK  frrcat  man  and  teacher  whose  influence  is  still  warm  and 

ftron"-  wherever  good  Englishmen  are  foimd  was  prepared  for  his 

luttT  training  at  the  old  school  of  Saint  Mary  at  "Winchester.     In 

ihis  matter  Thomas  Arnold  was  fortnnate.    There  is  no  foundation 

..f  Jill  educational  kind  in  the  English-speaking  world  which  is 

Ix'ttcr  rooted  in  the  past  than  is  the  nursling  of  William  of  Wyke- 

liam.     This  prelate  and  statesman  of  the  days  of  Chaucer  lived  a 

life  .'•o  blameless  that  his  enemies  could  find  no  fault  in  him.     ''As 

well,"  remarked  a  contemporary,  "try  to  find  a  knot  in  a  rush." 

The  city  where  he  planted  his  nursling  is  perhaps  better  entitled 

than  any  other  to  be  called  the  home  city  of  Englishmen.     It  was 

Alfred's  city,  the  sovereign  who  gave  an  ideal  of  complete  manhood 

to  his  time  and  to  posterity,  and  who  was  the  first  of  the  Saxon 

kings  to  impress  liis  personality  on  the  whole  of  the  island.-  After 

Alfred  lived  the  term  "Englishman"  possessed  a  new  significance. 

The  statesmen  and  rulers  who  have  held  office  in  England  and 

Kiiglish-speaking  countries  since  his  time,  if  they  discharged  their 

duties  well,  were  simply  following  in  his  footsteps.     It  is  difficult 

to  underrate  tlie  beneficent  influence  which  Alfred's  city  of  AVin- 

chc.-iter  and,  later,  its  great  public  school  have  exercised  over  the 

I-Jiglisli  people.     Thomas  Arnold  was  proud  of  his  old  school  and 

rf"!naincd  loyal  to  it.    When  the  tim.e  came  for  "Matthew,  his  gifted 

►^•n,  to  prepare  for  the  university,  he  sent  him  up  to  Winchester  for 

•i'vcral  terms.     The  Oxford  College  which  is  in  closest  connection 

%\ilh  Wincliester,  owing  its  origin  to  the  same  founder,  William  of 

Wykchuin,  is  jSTcw  College.     But  Thomas  Arnold's  parents  chose 

<'«'rini8  Christi,  known  familiarly  as  C.  C.  C,  which  was  one  of  the 

niosl  active  of  the  smaller  colleges  at  this  time.     The  old  university 

t-n  the  L^is  had  begun  to  awake  from  the  torpor  of  the  eighteenth 

tv-ntury,  when  all  enthusiasm  was  discouraged  and  "overmuch  god- 

linw*"  was  particularly  frowned  upon.     It  was  in  17G6  that  six 

♦tn<lcnt9  were  actually  suspended  for  engaging  in  Christian  work 

end  holding  prayer  meetings  in  the  town.    ]>nt  the  terrible  struggle 


56  Methodist  Review  [January 

of  French  Ivcvoliition  times  was  now  calling  for  every  effort  on  the 
part  of  patriotic  Englishmen.  Rationalism  and  infidelity  had 
brought  forth  a  harvest  of  blood,  and  thinking  people  had  returned 
to  evangelical  religion  as  to  a  haven  of  safety.  The  excesses  of  the 
Kevolution  had  proved  to  AVordsworth,  as  to  many  others,  that  guilt 
and  sin  were  realities  and  that  i-evercnce  and  devotion  were  at  the 
root  of  all  good  living,  and  his  poetry  received  a  new  strength  from 
this  evangelical  conviction.  His  poetry  is  typical  of  the  national 
sjiirit.  Patriotism  was  now  linked  to  the  historic  Christian  faith, 
purified  by  the  revival  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  a  sternly  up- 
right, if  sometimes  narrow,  type  of  manhood  was  produced  which 
revived  the  whole  nation.  From  these  evangelical  homes  came  the 
great  men  of  ISOS  and  the  follov.iug  years,  remarkable  for  the 
number  of  noble  spirits  they  produced.  At  Corpus  the  life  was 
qniet  and  wliolosome.  Tlie  college  had  been  fonnded  by  Fox,  a 
bishop  of  "Winchester,  in  the  days  of  Henry  VIII,  and  had  always 
remained  a  snuill  college,  yet  it  early  secured  a  name  for  efficiency 
and  erudition,  being  jestingly  termed  a  ''beehive."  The  great 
Heformation  names  of  Jewell,  familiar  to  readers  of  Goldsmith's 
Vicar  of  Wakefield,  and  of  Eichard  Hooker,  are  indissolubly  as- 
sociated with  the  place.  It  was  at  Corpus  that  Hooker,  during  a 
seventeen  years'  residence,  laid  up  that  store  of  learning  and 
formed  that  noble  style  wliicli  have  helped  to  make  him  a  prince 
among  tbeologians.  "I  passed,''  he  tells  us,  "from  that  garden  of 
piety,  of  pleasure,  of  pcoce,  and  a  sweet  conversation  into  the 
thorny  wilderness  of  a  busy  world,  into  the  corroding  cares  that 
attend  a  married  priest  and  a  country  parsonage."  The  number  of 
undergraduates  at  Corpus  when  Arnold  went  v.\\  was  less  than 
twenty,  but  their  quality  was  excellent.  He  was  happy  in  the 
companionship  of  such  men  as  Thonuis  Iveble- — brother  of  the 
author  of  the  "Christian  "^ear" — who  lx3came  a  Fellow  of  Oriel 
the  very  year  of  Arnold's  admissinn;  of  John  Taylor  Coleridge, 
who  rose  to  be  one  of  the  chief  justices  of  England  ;  and  of  William 
Buckland,  the  eminent  geologist,  who  was  at  this  time  a  Fellow 
of  the  college  and  under  whom  Arnold  studied.  To  live  in  such 
close  intimacy  with  a  man  to  whom  the  new  vista  of  the  world 
was  opening  that  was  to  give  a  fresh  interpretation  of  God's  deal- 


.gjOj  Thovms  Arnold  at  Oxford  57 

;t.o»  ^»i<J'  1^'^  universe  was  no  slight  privilege.  To  Buckland,  a 
iSort'Uglily  unconventional  and  whole-souled  man,  is  due  in  great 
jncaMin-  tl»o  wide  vet  sane  natural  theology  we  find  outlined  in 
T«TinvMtn's  "In  .Menioriam."  Chief  Justice  Coleridge  has  left  us 
*n  ao-^nnt  of  tlicir  life  together  in  the  little  college  to  which  they 
«trr  all  >^<»  warmly  attaclied  in  after  life: 

\\'<,  wrro  then  a  small  society,  the  members  rather  under  the  usual 
•  s«  ilCcMo  wont  up  at  fourteen  years  and  five  months,  Arnold  at  fifteen 
y.»f»  nnd  oight  months]  and  with  more  than  the  ordinary  proportion 
ef  «!i!U'y  and  gc-holarship;  our  mode  of  tuition  was,  in  harmony  with  these 
fin-iKiJ-t.inccs.  not  by  private  lectures,  but  in  classes  of  such  a  size  as 
»!-!tr.J  rtnulalion  and  made  us  careful  in  the  exact  and  neat  rendering 
*f  l!;e  orli'.lnal,  yet  not  so  numerous  as  to  prevent  individual  attention 
*f,  thp  ttitor"8  part,  and  familiar  knowledge  of  each  pupil's  turn  and 
tiJeau.  .  .  .  One  result  of  all  these  circumstances  was  that  we  lived 
cts  ir:i»  tnost  familiar  terms  with  each  other;  we  might  be— indeed,  we 
,«,r,»_iio!ncwhat  boyish  in  manner  and  in  the  liberties  we  took  with  each 
other:  but  our  Interest  in  literature,  and  in  all  the  stirring  matters  of 
n.Al  tinio.  was  not  boyish;  we  debated  the  classic  and  romantic  questions; 
*t  «;:,*rui;H.^d  poetry  and  history,  logic  and  philosophy;  or  we  fought  over 
tS»»  Prnlr.siilar  wars  and  Continental  campaigns  with  the  energy-  of  dis- 
raiAKU  p«'rsonally  concerned  in  them.  Our  habits  were  inexpensive  and 
ucn<r.iif:  cue  break-up  party  was  held  in  the  junior  common-room  at  the 
*£s4  ct  fnc\\  term,  in  which  we  indulged  our  genius  more  freely;  and  our 
tt^rrlm'^nt.  to  say  the  truth,  was  somewhat  exuberant  and  noisy;  but 
tfec  authorities  wisely  forebore  too  strict  an  inquiry  into  this. 

A  ^-hf'hir  wlio  came  to  Corpus  the  year  after  Arnold  left  to  be- 
r.>tno  a  F«-llo\v  of  Oriel  speaks  of  the  harmony  that  prevailed  in 
0>p  little  oollogo,  the  absence  of  petty  divisions  and  quarrels,  the 
nr.urt/HMJs  and  helpful  v/ays  of  the  residents.  «The  Fellows  showed 
r>.»  njjxTciliousness,  the  seholars'no  bumptiousness.  In  a  letter  to 
bi»  fi.«ror  Fanny  ^[attlicw  Arnold  gives  us  a  pleasant  glimpse  of 
<''<r|.U"»  sixty  years  later: 

I  hAV6  boon  for  three  nights  at  Oxford  this  last  week,  staying  at 
r«rpu«  In  the  perfection  of  comfort.  ...  I  saw  many  things  I  had 
»-**«-f  «(H-n  before:  the  Corpus  plate,  which  is  unique  in  Oxford,  not  having 
l"'^  ir.rltcd  down  for  Charles  the  First;  the  library,  which  is  full  of 
♦  y»>t*urr.<:  iho  longer  record  of  papa's  admission  as  a  scholar  in  presence; 
\\.*  »;-,  ns  frivon  by  papa  when  he  left  the  college — these  and  a  mustard- 
:"*.  cirfR  by  Kfl)Ie  are  now  put  aside  as  curiosities  and  not  brought  into 
*■*->.  finally  papa's  rooms,  v-hich  had  formerly  been  Bishop  Jewell's.  The 
<«ii<iCr  l4  a  most  Interesting  one;    its  founder,  Bishop  Fox,  who  had  ac- 


58  '  Methodist  licvicw  [January 

cumulated  a  large  sum  to  found  a  convent  of  monks,  was  warned  by  the 
king's  ministers  that  monks  had  had  their  day,  and  that  property  left  for 
their  benefit  would  not  be  safe,  so  he  founded  a  college  for  learning 
instead — at  the  very  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

After  taking  his  bachelor's  degree  Thomas  Arnold  was  proposed 
for  a  fellowship  at  Oriel.  Some  objections  were  forthcoming  at  the 
appointment  of  the  idealistic  young  man,  whose  deeply  felt  convic- 
tions, openly  expressed,  were  mistaken  for  push  and  conceit;  but 
fortunately  the  objections  were  overruled.  Tlie  appointment  \va.s 
a  distinct  honor.  Some  twenty  years  before.  Oriel  College  had 
made  the  change  in  its  appointment  to  fellowships  which  soon 
placed  it  in  the  front  rank  of  university  foundations  for  learning 
and  intellectual  efficiency.  In  other  colleges,  like  Jesus  College, 
for  instance,  the  resort  of  Welshmen,  local  limitations  were  dom- 
inant; but  at  Oriel  neither  birth,  locality,  nor,  henceforth,  junior 
standing  in  the  college  was  held  to  constitute  a  title  to  succession 
or  preference.  From  Corpus  Christi  College,  in  1795,  Edward 
Copleston,  one  of  the  most  brilliant  men  of  his  time,  was  invited 
to  fill  a  vacant  Oriel  fellowship,  and  he  exchanged  this  for  the 
headship  in  ISl-i,  the  year  before  Arnold's  appointment.  Copies- 
ton,  who  became  later  Bishop  of  Llandaff,  in  Wales,  the  ancient  see 
that  succeeded  to  the  earlier  Christian  Caerleon  of  Roman  times, 
was  at  once  a  man  of  letters,  an  athlete,  a  linguist,  and  a  critic. 
ELaving  been  appointed  professor  of  pqetry  in  the  university,  he 
discharged  its  lecturing  duties  well,  and  in  a  passage-at-arms  with 
Edinburgh  Eeviewers,  in  which  he  came  off  victorious,  he  stated 
in  its  tersest  and  most  trenchant  form  the  case  in  favor  of  a  class- 
ical education,  lie  was  also  a  capable  political  economist,  versed 
in  the  burning  questions  of  the  day  and  consulted  by  the  statesmen 
then  in  power.  During  the  time  that  Copleston  and  Arnold  were 
at  Oriel  the  men  there  held  their  heads  above  the  common  herd, 
as  belonging  to  a  place  of  distinction.  Many,  indeed  most  of 
Copleston's  cherished  opinions  and  even  prejudices  descended  to 
the  Arnolds,  father  and  son,  and  the  younger  Arnold  must  be 
regarded  as  continuing  in  the  next  generation  the  ideals  of  this 
great  Oxonian,  economic,  classical,  and  critical.  When  Copleston 
went  to  Llandaff,  it  dawned  upon  him,  as  bishop  in  the  principal- 


J..JOJ  Thomas  Arnold  at  Oxford  59 

i'v,  ilint  Welsh  literature  had  been  a  constant  source  of  light  and 
^i,-..r  to  Kn-lish  thought  and  life,  and  his  successor  in  the  pro- 
(,.-orshi|)  of  poetry  was  destined  to  deliver  his  most  noted  imi- 
rrr-iiv  lectures  upon  this  very  subject.  Matthew  had  caught  his 
inM.i ration— had  focused  his  subject — from  the  early  friend  of  his 

fatlur. 

V,n\  there  were  otlier  notable  men  at  Oriel  besides  Copleston 
an'i  Arnold.  The  dean  was  Richard  Whately,  afterward  Arch- 
lifhop  of  Dublin,  who  is  kno\\Ti  in  school  circles  to-day  for  his 
rhitorio  and  logic,  a  man  of  tremendous  vitality  and  mental  force. 
His  uirn  ns  a  Xoetie — and  Oriel  at  this  time  was  the  home  of 
>;t^.licg — xvas  to  develop  a  Christian  type  of  character  whicli  had 
iv-illirr  vapidity,  unreasonableness,  nor  narrowness.  Whately, 
itjJcol,  WHS  the  strenuous  man  of  his  time.  Another  liberal  the- 
c.!M;.Mfln  was  Renn  Dickson  Hampden,  who  later  became  professor 
c  f  moral  {.hilosophy  and  then  of  divinity  in  the  university.  It  was 
\.'\i  appointment  to  the  latter  post  in  1836  that  led  to  the  ecclesiasti- 
cs! florni  on  the  crest  of  which  John  Henry  ISTewTnan  and  his  im- 
in«-«liatc  followers  were  swept  into  the  Church  of  Rome.  The  rock 
oi  (.flt-nse  was  that  in  The  Scholastic  Philosophy  Considered  in  its 
Kiiiitions  to  Christian  Theology  he  had  placed  the  authority  of  the 
iJiblt.^  above  that  of  the  church.  This  might  seem  to  us  more 
••van-r-lical  than  "Broad  Church"  or  liberal,  but  it  was  regarded 
bv  the  High  Church  party  as  rationalistic  in  its  tendency.  Later 
Dr.  Hampden  became  Bishop  of  Hereford,  and  is  supposed  to  be, 
in  a  measure,  the  prototype  of  "Bishop  Proudie"  in  x\nthony 
Trt;i!uj-K-*s  delightful  Barchester  Towers.  Hampden,  like  Arnold, 
«a«  an  excellent  teacher,  and  as  principal  of  Saint  Mary  Hall 
lurncd  out  successful  scholars. 

*  At  Oriel,  as  one  of  the  Fellows,  and  later  as  tutor,  was  the 
»*ir.tly  John  Keble,  author  of  The  Christian  Year,  which  since 
«J«  |n:blication  in  1S2G  has  been  a  manual  of  devotion  wherever 
Of  Va\'^A\A\  language  is  spoken.  As  able  intellectually  as  Whately, 
r^i'lwibly  a  finer  scholar,  he  was  yet  wholly  without  assertion,  world- 
iir}«'».s,  or  arrogance,  and  made  a  model  village  jiastor.  He  had  a 
f'-iTi^  near  Winchester,  at  Fairford,  which  he  left  in  1818  to  come 
^'t'  a.i::iin  to  Oriel.     At  this  time  he  writes  as  follows  to  Arnold's 


60  Mclhodlst  licview  /     [January 

friend,  John  Taylor  Coleridi^o,  from  whom  a  quotation  has  been 

given  earlier  in  this  article : 

I  thought  at  first  it  would  be  very  uncomfortable  for  me  to  give  up 
my  cure  and  become  an  academic  again;  but  I  get  more  and  more  recon- 
ciled to  it  every  day.  You  consider  tuition  as  a  species  of  pastoral  care; 
do  you  not?  Otherwise  it  might  seem  questionable  whether  a  clergy-man 
ought  to  leave  a  cure  of  souls  for  it.  And  yet  there  are  some  people  at 
Oxford  who  seem  to  imagine  that  college  tutors  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  morals.    If  I  thought  so,  I  would  never  undertake  the  office. 

An  Oxford  tutor  has  great  influence,  if  ho  sees  fit  to  use  it.  On 
him  devolves  the  duty  of  molding  the  minds  of  the  undergradu- 
ates at  a  most  impressionable  time;  he  reads  with  them,  quizzes 
them  unmercifully  if  of  an  eager  mind  and  conscientious  temper, 
and  prepares  tlicm  for  the  ordeal  of  the  "schools"  or  examining 
board.  Here,  if  anywhere,  the  Socratic  method  is  available,  for 
the  classes  are  small,  the  temper  of  each  student  is  known  to  the 
teacher,  and  it  is  possible  to  indulge  in  the  best  kind  of  mental  and 
moral  gynmastic.  Practically,  the  English  university  system  de- 
pends vitally  on  the  efficiency  of  its  college  tutors;  and  imless 
these  men  carry  into  their  labors  the  devoted  spirit  of  John  Keble, 
they  are  not  fulfilling  tlieir  obligations.  The  professors  at  Oxford 
have  no  such  vital  -relation  to  the  academic  life ;  for  instance,  the 
professor  of  poetry  is  a  lecturer  who  is  appointed  for  a  short  term 
of  years,  and  rfcust  appear  for  only  a  week  or  ten  days  during  the 
year.     But  a  tutor  like  Keble  is  an  abiding  power. 

Last  of  the  noble  Oriel  Fellows  of  this  generation  was  the 
great  John  Henry  Isewraan,  to  whom  the  unexpected  election  in 
1S22  came  with  as  keen  a  delight  as  did  John  Wesley's  election 
as  Fellow  of  Lincoln,  nearly  a  century  before,  to  his  proud  father. 
When  receiving  the  congratulations  of  the  other  Fellows  he  bore  it 
all  complacently  until  Keble  took  his  hand,  and  then  he  felt  so 
abashed  and  unworthy  of  the  honor  done  him  that  he  wished  to 
sink  into  the  ground.  At  this  time  jSTewman  was  an  Evangelical, 
and  not  a  High  Churchman,  like  Keble,  nor  a  Broad  Churchman, 
like  Arnold,  Whatcly,  and  Hampden.  It  is  well  to  note  that  the 
term  "High  Churchman"  underwent  at  this  time  a  radical  change 
in  its  signiification.  The  Higli  Churchman  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury was  a  resolule  defender  of  the  church  as  by  law  established, 


t^io) 


Thomas  AriioJd  at  Oxford  61 


*t.,J  fT-i^-nH'il  any  discussion  and  inquiry  into  its  pretensions  as 
.•*i>r{liiM^'  unpatriotic  and  dangerous.  An  excellent  type  of  the 
, -J  f*tliii'tM<l  irmh  Churclinian  is  found  in  Samuel  Johnson,  the 
f-«rrxm«>-t  i<{  all  the  leading  forces  in  English  letters.  With  the 
r*<tr,infrof  ih.«  ninrteentli  century  few  men  of  character  were  found 
.{  ',}.;«  »K-h«v.!;  it  was  out  of  date.  In  his  Apologia  pro  sua  vita 
Sriiinrni  n'f<'rs  to  such  High  Churchmen  as  '"two-bottle"  ortho- 
.!<«  uu'u,  wlio  loved  port  wine  and  the  old  ways,  but  were  hardly 
u.  \r  (akoji  seriously.  Their  pet  dislikes  were  popery  and  Meth- 
.rfi.ni;  ilicy  abhorred  the  pretensions  of  Rome  and  all  forms  of 
wruriaiiir'm,  fj-'pecially  when  these  forms  were  militant  and  ag- 
-r-^»l%»'.  The  Evangelicals  meanwhile  had  gained  ground  in  the 
'v.uti'.rv — devout  men  who  sought  to  make  their  hearts  right  with 
<f;i»!  and  f(d!<»w  implicitly  the  teachings  of  the  Bible.  Their  weak- 
f.^K*  v-nH  ft  philosophic  narrowness  and  a  misreading  of  history; 
:hcy  \Ki'ro  ulniost  ns  insular  as  the  "two-bottle"  men.  The  elect, 
frnv.rdiuf:  to  their  interpretation  of  God's  dealings  with  humanity, 
vrrt>  a  very  limited  number  indeed.  At  a  university  like  Oxford, 
«liirl»  iv;.\v  tought  to  keep  up  the  traditions  of  the  ages  and  be  in 
J<«rh  ultl)  general  truth  everywhere,  the  Evangelicals  were  pushed 
•>i«]r,  .iiid  the  earnest  men  were  divided  between  those  who  strove 
t't  harinoni^x'  their  religion  with  the  new  advances  in  science  and 
ih.-f  who  were  an»:ious  to  find  a  via  media  with  Eoman  Catholi- 
fi%m.  The  Faints  of  medicevalism  were  real  children  of  God,  and 
tlr  Church  of  Rome  had  produced  within  its  pale,  and  still  fos- 
•rr>c«!,  b  type  of  Christian  excellence  which  was  worth  careful 
»v.3«!y  and  imitation.  John  Henry  jSTewman,  brought  up  a  narrow 
Kiin;^-!!^!,  and  nurtured  in  the  teachings  of  liomaine,  Thomas 
S»^-n,  and  .lonos  of  Xayland,  was  fascinated  by  these  records  of  a 
«!*'<l<^*<,ulc-<l  devotion  to  God  which  he  found  in  pre-Reformation 
'triiinp*.  On  the  other  hand,  men  like  Whately  and  Arnold,^  re- 
r»rxliri;:  intensely  the  problems  of  the  day,  intellectual,  social,  and 
«^^  ft'-miriil,  were  mainly  anxious  to  bring  the  teachings  of  Scrip- 
<urv  uiUi  harmony  with  present-day  issues.  Finally,  though  living 
^^  tlj««  Kurno  stirroundings  and  associated  with  the  same  great  in- 
»-.'.iill(.n,  ihcy  hardly  seemed  to  touch  one  another.  The  Broad 
*  -ufihiuen  retained  their  dislike  and  distrust  of  the  papacy,  while 


G2  Methodist  Review  [January 

the  new  High  Churchmen  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  Rome  and 
supplied  the  ancient  enemy  with  proselytes. 

Arnold  was  not  at  this  time  brought  into  personal  relations 
with  Xewman,  who  was  his  junior  by  several  years,  and  who  suc- 
ceeded in  1823  to  the  fellowship  which  he  resigned.  Before  his 
election  as  Fellow  Arnold  had  gained  the  chancellor's  prize  for  the 
essay  in  Latin,  and  two  years  later  the  prize  for  the  essay  in  Eng- 
lish. The  four  years  from  1815  to  1819  he  spent  at  Oxford,  read- 
ing extensively  in  the  library  and  instructing  private  pupils.  There- 
after he  removed  to  Laleham,  on  the  Thames  River,  near  Staines, 
where  he  established  a  private  school,  and  next  year  married.  His 
marriage  involved  the  resignation  of  his  fellowship,  and  so  his 
close  connection  with  Oriel  came  to  an  end.  The  two  distinguished 
Oriel  Fellows  met  once,  and  only  once.  In  1841,  a  year  before  his 
untimely  death,  the  great  Rugby  headmaster  was  up  at  Oxford 
delivering  his  inaugural  lecture  as  Regius  professor  of  history.  In 
the  following  Lent  he  returned  to  give  the  first  seven  of  his  lec- 
tures and  on  this  occasion  dined  at  Oriel,  where  he  met  Newman. 
For  years  he  had  been  fighting  Xewmanism,  that  is,  the  High 
Church  party  which  was  coquetting  with  Romanism.  Just  at  this 
time,  in  a  private  letter  dated  October  30,  1841,  he  expresses  his 
opinions  very  vigorously  regarding  the  issue: 

Undoubtedly*  I  think  worse  of  Roman  Catholicism  than  I  did  eome 
years  ago.  But  my  feelings  toward  S.  [a  Roman  Catholic]  are  quite  dif- 
ferent from  my  feelings  toward  T.  [a  Newmanite],  because  I  think  the 
one  a  fair  enemy,  the  other  a  treacherous  one.  The  one  Is  a  Frenchman 
in  his  own  uniform,  and  within  his  own  prsesidia;  the  other  is  the  French- 
man disguised  in  a  red  coat,  and  holding  a  post  within  our  praesidia  for 
the  purpose  of  betraying  it.    I  should  honor  the  first  and  hang  the  second. 

And  again  a  few  weeks  later,  in  a  letter  to  Justice  J.  T.  Coleridge, 
he  declares  how  emphatically  he  would  object  to  seeing  any  Xew- 
raanite  appointed  to  a  teaching  post  at  Oxford,  except  perhaps  it 
were  in  science ;  for  he  considered  their  whole  mind  perverted. 

This  [objection]  is,  I  think,  true  in  theory;  but  what  I  hope  to  find 
when  I  get  up  to  Oxford  is  that  the  Newmanites'  minds  are  not  wholly 
perverted;  that  they  have  excellences  which  do  not  appear  to  one  at  a 
distance  who  knows  them  only  as  Newmanites;  and  in  this  way  I  hope 
that  my  opinion  of  many,  very  many  of  the  men  who  hold  Newman's 
views  may  become  greatly  more  favorable  than  it  is  now,  because  I  shall 


I  ,H)\  Thomas  Arnold  at  Oxford  63 

.,^  t'-rir  boiler  parts  as  well  as  their  bad  ones.     And  in  the  same  way  I 
rf^4i  Jhal  nmny  of  them  will  learn  to  think  more  favorably  of  me. 

It  sMi^  a  i)loa.^ant  surprise  both  to  Lira  and  liis  admirers  that  the  • 
j>ifor.i  luifJienco  which  gathered  to  hear  him  in  the  Sheldonian 
i  |»<  :i!.r  \va.s  ?o  friendly  and  appreciative. 

Wiion  Thomas  Arnold  left  Oxford  for  Laleham,  he  ^as  led 
•..,  ti;.-  hliuly  of  Gcrnum  through  a  desire  to  get  a  closer  acquaint- 
*j..H-  with  Nichuhr's  History  of  Rome;  and  this  study  widened 
tU'   rujigo   of   his    intellectual    sympathies.      In   the    year    1S27 
U-   mad*'  a   holiday  journey  to  Rome,  with  two  of  his  pupils, 
and  r:ill<  d  on  the  Chevalier  Bmisen,  who  was  then  attached  to  the 
rr»j-Kiiin  h'-ation  there.     The  two  men  immediately  struck  up  a 
fficiiri.^hip  which  proved  lasting.     Bunsen's  God  in  History  is  an 
r^«<'lj.il  |H-K:.k.     This  able  German  was  at  once  statesman,  scholar, 
•nd  rii.-<.lo:^'iau  ;  and  he  shared  with  Arnold  many  of  the  latter's 
\u  ws  on  the  clo.se  connection  that  should  exist  between  church  and 
»\»lr  i!i  u  wtll-ordercd  country.     x\t  this  time  he  was  engaged  in 
preparing  a  liturgy-  for  his  own  nation,  "bringing  into  prominence 
ihn  iM-iiover's  sacriliec" — the  continuous  spiritual  giving  of  thanks, 
u};ich  is  the  self-sacrifice  of  the  Christian.     Largely  through  the 
riloriA  of  Bunseu  and  his  associates,  friendly  relations  were  set  up 
ftt  this  lime  between  the  English  and  German  churches  which  recall 
tl.«'  day.-?  of  John  ^'^slcy's  youth,  when  the  courts  of  Berlin  and 
S-ini  .lanies's  discu.ssed  the  possibility  of  closer  relations  between 
(Jrrmnn  and  English  Protestantism.     Sharp,  Archbishop  of  York, 
\\^  w.'irm  friend  of  the  Epworth  rector,  carried  on  a  correspond- 
tnci-  with  the  court  chaplain  at  Berlin,  Bishop  Jablonski,  having 
r»r  itj«  ftiin  the  union  of  Lutherans  and  Anglicans  by  the  adoption 
«if  ihe  Knglish  Church  liturgy.     At  one  time  matters  seemed  favor- 
•Uo,  hut  the  death  of  the  Prussian  king  in  1713  put  an  end  to  the 
n«^p:.tiutinns.     Bunsen's  diplomatic  efforts,  however,  resulted  in  an 
•rrtvmcnt  l)ctwccu  the  English  and  Prussian  governments  to  main- 
'.*in  .ni  Jerusalem  a  joint  bishopric,  and  a  converted  Jew  named 
AlfAandor  wa.s  appointed  by  England  to  the  new  see.     The  ap- 
|«.Mnti:!0!it  scandalized  the  High  Church  party,  who  regarded  it  as 
*  fcrhisTuntic  act.     Bi.shop  Alexander  held  the  office  for  only  three 
>■  Ari»,  wln-n  lie  was  succeeded  by  the  energetic  Gobat,  nominee  of 


64  Methodist  Review  [Janiiarj 

William  IV  of  Prussia,  who  survived  until  1886.  Xo  attempt  was 
then  made  to  keep  up  tbe  joint  office,  and  it  lapsed,  for  the  two 
churches  had  drifted  apart  in  the  meantime.  Henceforth  all  such 
relations  were  to  be  on  a  church  basis  only,  and  Pan-Anglicanism, 
Pan-Presbyterianism,  and  such  movements  have  since  sprung  up. 
To  the  school  of  Bunsen  and  Arnold  the  political  aspect  seemed 
dignified  and  reasonable;  but  they  rated  the  element  of  religious 
conviction  too  low,  and  their  Broad  Churchism  lacked  stability 
and  root. 

jS'o  more  interesting  occasion  in  the  modern  history  of  the 
University  of  Oxford  has  ever  occurred  than  the  appearance  of 
the  new  professor  of  history  to  deliver  his  first  course  of  lectures. 
It  meant  everything  to  the  ancient  institution — the  decline  of  the 
wave  of  medievalism  which  had  swept  over  it  during  the  previous 
six  or  seven  years,  and  the  rise  of  a  spirit  of  modernism  and  real- 
ism. The  outlook  of  Oxford  has  always  been  somewhat  circum- 
scribed and  self-centered ;  it  has  not  been  the  mother  of  other  in- 
Btitutions,  like  Cambridge,  adjusting  itself  carefully  to  the  needs 
of  the  present,  on  the  principle  of  give-and-take.  Even  Arnold's 
lectures  were  the  particular  product  of  an  Oxford-trained  man 
addressing  himself  to  Oxonians.  But  he  spoke  as  one  who  had 
drunk  in  the  best  of  n]odern  German  thought  and  ideals,  and  also 
as  one  who  feit  deeply  with  the  struggling  masses  in  our  modern 
hives  of  industry.  That  so  grand  an  Englishman  should  have 
ushered  in,  at  its  greatest  seat  of  learning,  the  era  of  economists 
and  sociologists  in  English  history  was  indeed  significant.  All 
throughout  his  discourses  there  was  a  wistful  tone,  as  if  the  speaker 
felt  he  might  not  be  spared  to  carry  out  his  appointed  task  beyond 
the  mere  outlining.  And  so  it  proved.  Before  the  year  was  out, 
and  long  before  another  Lent,  Thomas  Arnold  was  laid  in  his 
grave  within  the  chapel  at  Bugby  and  others  had  to  carry  on  his 
labors. 


ipMAAxJi 


^^\  tv^ 


jj,jOl  yisio7is  of  the  Christ  65 


•^,.T.  v.— V]  SIGNS  OF  THE  CHRIST 
Tjik  colossus  of  tbc  Ivoman  empire  had  rcacLcd  the  climax 
of  JLH  marvelous  devolopmcut.  On  the  east  its  boundaries  extended 
lo  Uio  river  Euphrates,  on  the  south  to  Africa  and  Arabia,  on  the 
north  to  tlic  llhine  and  the  Danube,  and  on  the  west  to  the  Pillars 
<.f  HrrcMilts  and  the  great  ocean,  thus  occupying  what  was  prac- 
lirnllv  tlu!  whole  of  the  then  known  world.  Beyond  the  Ehine,  as 
far  m  llie  icy  seas  of  the  North,  was  a  wilderness  of  unbroken 
f.)n-.'«H  and  trackless  morasses  inhabited  by  a  scanty  population 
ui  tu.juadic,  half-barbarous  Germans  whom  alone  the  Romans  had 
fttilr«l  tu  t^ubjugate.  South  of  the  fertile  fringe  of  African 
f»rovltici«  ruled  by  Rome  stretched  the  Sahara  Desert,  and  then 
tho  t-ndletJS  labyrinthine  succession  of  tropical  jungles.  To  the 
Wt-fl,  l)oyond  the  Fortunate  Isles  and  the  Ultima  Thule  of  the 
Rnrient  world,  far  over  the  watery  waste  of  the  great  sea  whose 
wave.H  luid  never  been  furrowed  by  the  keel  of  any  vessel,  deep 
iti  ilio  h'^art  of  the  setting  sun,  lay  a  vast  continent  covered  with 
Jiiij-'hly  forests,  traversed  by  lordly  rivers,  watched  over  by  solemn, 
r.n<i\v-<-apf>od  mountains;  a  land  of  mystery,  whose  silence  was  un- 
brt.keu  save  by  the  cry  of  savage  beasts  and  the  distant  thunder  of 
tbi-  j»urf  along  the  solitary  shores;  a  land  as  fresh  in  its  virgin 
I-  autv  as  when  it  first  took  shape  beneath  the  hands  of  God  in 
ll)f  utir  of  the  forces  whence  issued  the  world.  While  thus  these 
fxr-<.fT  hinds,  destined  to  become  the  seats  of  mighty  nations,  were 
»!ill  unknown,  shrouded  in  an  impenetrable  pall  of  darkness, 
C'Truption,  superstition,  and  nameless  vice  were  eating  at  the 
K'-arl  of  humanity  in  the  civilized  world  itself.  On  all  sides  were 
»in  and  ignorance;  even  the  ancient  faith  in  the  gods  was  gone, 
havljig  a  cynical  atheism  in  its  place;  might  was  right,  oppres- 
»i«»ij  WU3  universal,  pity,  tenderness,  and  love  were  virtues  un- 
known. The  whole  creation,  Saint  Paul  says,  was  groaning  and 
travailing  in  ])ain;  a  judgment  of  the  conditions  of  the  times 
•  uwuneil  up  by  the  pagan  poet  Virgil  in  that  exquisite  line  which 
^»int  .T«'r<>nu'  a  century  or  two  later  ke])t  murmuring  over  and  over 
to  hiuiM-lf  uj}  he  wandered  through  the  winding  passages  of  the 


66  ^  Methodist  Review         -  [January 

Catacombs  of  Rome :     "Sorrow  and  fear  all  around  and  the  mul- 
tiple image  of  death." 

Then  came  the  blaze  of  glorj  in  the  heavens  and  the  song  of 
the  angels  above  the  little  toAvn  of  Bethlehem;  then  came  the 
mysterious  star  in  the  east,  guiding  the  wise  men  over  mountain 
and  valley,  over  river  and  plain,  till,  as  the  early  dawn  touched 
with  light  the  misty  mountain  tops,  they  knelt  before  the  manger 
in  the  rude  stable  and  saw  in  the  face  of  a  little  Child  that  light 
which  was  to  lighten  every  man  who  cometh  into  the  world.  "Well 
iii^J  yc  gaze  in  silent  adoration,  O  ye  Magi,  far  oil  in  you 
Judjcan  land!  for  the  advent  of  that  little  Child  marks  the  turn- 
ing point  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

Years  have  passed  away.  The  Saviour  has  lived  his  life, 
wrought  his  deeds,  suffered  a  cruel  death,  been  buried,  has  risen 
again  and  ascended  into  heaven,  leaving  behind  a  little  band  of 
followers  to  become  the  seed  of  the  church  universal.  On  the 
road  to  Damascus  went  a  certain  Saul  of  Tarsus,  his  heart  full  of 
bigotry  and  his  mind  intent  on  persecution  of  the  infant  church, 
when,  suddenly,  at  mid-day,  he  saw  a  light  from  heaven,  above 
the  brightness  of  the  sun,  shining  round  about  him,  and  he  heard 
a  voice  saying,  "I  am  Jesus  whom  thou  persecutcst.  ...  I  have 
appeared  unto  thee  for  this  purpose,  to  make  thee  a  minister  and 
a  witness  ...  of  these  thir.gs  which  thou  hast  seen,"  Well  for 
the  world  that  he  was  not  disobedient  unto  the  heavenly  vision, 
for  out  of  that  vision  came  a  new  man  whose  future  life  was 
fraught  with  untold  consequences— Paul  the  missionary,  who  first 
preached  in  foreign  lands  the  crucified  and  risen  Christ,  and  began 
that  movement  of  propaganda  which,  has  resulted  in  a  world-wide 
Christianity;  Paul  the  interpreter  of  "Christ's  message,  who  trans- 
formed the  gospel  into  a  universal  religion  and  thus  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  great  clmrch  itself  and  of  all  Christian 
civilization. 

Again  the  scene  changes.  It  is  nearly  three  hundred  years 
since  the  Apostle*  Paul  had  fought  the  good  fight,  had  kept  the 
faith,  and  died  the,  death  of  a  martyr.  In  the  meantime  the  great 
Roman  empire,  having  reached  its  climax  under  Augustus,  had 
begun  the  slow  but  sure  process  of  decline  and  now  was  tottering 


jyjQi  Visions  of  the  Christ  67 

t.»  i(>  fail.     It  was  the  year  312  after  Christ.     A  Roman  general 
ffuin  his  provinces  of  Brittany  and  Gaul  had  hcen  preparing  to 
^rap;  war  :i;:ainst  his  rival  and  enemy,  the  Emperor  Maxentius. 
At  the  l!(  :ul  of  a  large  army  he  had  taken  the  road  to  Italy  and  was 
^u^\^^  mnrchiiig  toward  Kome.    Yet,  somehow  or  other,  he  was  full 
of  furchodings  and  misgivings,  undecided  as  to  whether  he  should 
-i»o  hattlc  or  not;  and,  as  he  sat  and  meditated,  in  the  midst  of 
hill  anxietv  and  indecision  he  thouglit  of  his  father  Constantius, 
?.;A  how  li(^  had  protected  the  Christians  and  had  lived  a  life  full 
..f  {.ro.--j)i  rity,  while  those  other  princes  who  had  persecuted  the 
f..l lowers  of  Christ   had  ended  their  lives   wretchedly;    and   so, 
althouj^h  a  pagan  himself,  he  asked  the  God  of  the  Christians  to 
•how  hiiM  a  sign  as  to  what  he  should  do.     He  had  reached  the 
liu\^n  of  the  river  Tiher  where,  then  as  now,  it  was  crossed  by  the 
Milviau  Bridge,  just  outside  the  Porta  del  Popolo  of  Home,  when, 
ti*.  we  arc  told  by  Eusebius,  on  the  twenty-seventh  day  of  October, 
::ii,  a  little  after  midday,  he  saw  a  flaming  cross  in  the  sky  with 
•Au'.*ii  words  written  upon  it:  "In  hoc  signo  vinces,"  "In  this  sign 
^hnlt  thou  conquer,"  and  on  the  following  night  he  had  a  vision 
of  Christ  himself,  who  appeared  to  him  holding  in  his  hand  the 
^a^te  im:ige  he  had  seen  in  the  sky  and  ordered  him  to  place  it  on 
his  slaiulard  to  be  borne  before  his  army  when  they  marched  to 
hkitle.  "  All  the  world   knows   what   followed:   how   Constantino 
oitiquered  Ins  enemy  and  became  emperor  of  Rome;  how  he  pub- 
1;.  Iv  confessed  his  faith  in  Christ,  and  how  he  made  Christianity 
'.he  ofiicial  religion  of  the  Roman  world.    And  as  from  the  vision  of 
ihi-  Mngi  at  Bethlehem  dates  the  church  universal,  as  from  the 
^i'ion  of  Saint  Paid  on  the  road  to  Damascus  dates  the  founding 
"f  j^jM-culative  and  dogiriatic  Christianity,  so  from  the  vision  of 
<'oii^tanlinc  before  the  gates  of  Rome  dates  the  mighty  power  of 
\Ur  papacy,  the  hierarchy  of  the  medigeval  church  ;  the  century-long 
r»»nt<si  Wtween  Pope  and  emperor  which  filled  the  Dark  Ages 
^ith  deeds  of  epic  splendor. 

The  centuries  roll  on;  seven  hundred  years  more  have  passed 
•way,  .ceven  hundred  years  of  ever-thickening  darkness,  ever-in- 
rn-asinf  fear  and  terror,  ever-spreading  ignorance  and  degradation. 
Th«'  lif^ht  of  ancient  art  and  literature  had  died  out,  only  a  few 


68  Methodist  Review  [January 

smoldering  sparks  still  existing  here  and  there  in  monastery  and 
school.  The  incursions  of  hordes  of  cruel  barbarians  had  laid 
waste  the  fairest  regions  of  Europe.  First  those  strange  half- 
human  monsters,  the  Huns,  led  bv  Attila,  the  Scourge  of  God: 
then  the  wave  upon  wave  of  Saracenic  incursions  sweeping  across 
the  African  provinces  and  turning  them  forever  to  the  faith  of 
Mohammed,  conquering  the  whole  of  Spain,  to  be  driven  from 
there  only  eight  centuries  later,  conquering  Italy  and  spreading 
devastation  even  to  the  gates  of  the  Eternal  City  itself;  and, 
finally,  the  Xormans,  in  their  swift  ships,  making  sudden  descents 
on  the  coasts  and  ascending  the  rivers,  spreading  on  all  sides  such 
fear  and  terror  that  an  added  clause  was  put  into  the  prayers  of  the 
church,  the  trembling  people  murmuring  with  fear-struck  voices, 
"From  the  fury  of  the  jSTormans,  good  Lord,  deliver  us."  And 
then  came  famine  and  plague  and  conflagrations,  while  even  the 
heavens  themselves  seemed  in  league  with  all  other  forces  to  destroy 
the  world;  showers  of  stars  fell  from  the  sky;' strange  comets 
appeared  visible  for  many  weeks;  great  dragons  were  seen  flying 
from  north  to  south,  terrifying  men  with  their  noise  and  their 
fiery  breath.  No  wonder  the  minds  of  men  gave  way,  weakened' 
by  all  these  things,  and  superstition  reigned  supreme ;  no  wonder 
the  belief  was  universal  that  the  world  was  destined  to  be  destroyed 
when  the  year  1000,  foretold  in  the  Book  of  llevelation,  should 
come,  "the  end  of  the  world  approaching,"  as  many  of  the  con- 
temporary documents  were  inscribed.  When  the  dread  millen- 
nium year,  however,  had  passed  away  and  the  world  still  stood,  it 
seemed  to  take  on  new  life,  and  with  the  eleventh  century  we 
begin  to  see  the  dawn  of  a  new  and  better  civilization.  Education 
was  revived,  cathedrals  were  built,  great  men  marked  out  the  lines 
on  which  the  following  centuries  were  to  move. 

It  was  Christmas  Eve,  in  one  of  the  last  years  of  the  eleventh 
century.  In  the  little  church  near  the  castle  of  Fontaines  in  old 
Burgundy,  two  miles  from  Dijon,  the  priests  were  celebrating  the 
Christmas  mass,  and  to  the  service  had  come  the  Lord  of  Fontaines 
and  his  wife,  Aletta,  a  beautiful,  devout  Christian  lady.  With 
them  was  their  little  son,  a  child  with  golden  locks  and  azure  eyes, 
already  manifesting  the  qualities  which  were  destined  to  make  him 


J., I,,i  Visions  of  the  Christ  69 

I  ho  U'rft  beloved  and  most  influential  man  of  Europe  of  his  time — 
p  iitK-ncA^  and  love,  and  infinite  tenderness  of  heart.  And  as  he 
trifi-ii  ujvon  the  lighted  candles  that  adorned  the  altar,  and  listened 
\i,  \hc  singing  of  the  Innnns,  and  meditated  in  childish  love  on  the 
^truJipf  hlory  of  the  birth  of  the  Lord,  his  eyes  grew  heavy  and  he 
Ml  nslifp  in  his  mother's  arms,  and  lo!  a  vision  came  to  him  of 
til.'  iijfant  J(>sus;  and  as  he  gazed  upon  the  beautiful  eyes  and  the 
V'IhUt  mouth  of  him  who  was  so  small  and  yet  who  upbears  the 
ujiivcrsc,  so  childlike  on  earth  yet  so  majestic  in  the  heavens,  there 
r.niMO  into  his  heart  so  deep  a  love  for  the  Christ  that  ever  after 
tbnt,  uny^  Jacobus  dc  Voragine,  in  his  Golden  Legend,  "he  made 
ft  iK.blc  work,  among  all  his  other  works,  of  the  laud  and  praising 
of  Clod  and  his  blessed  mother."  It  woidd  bo  difficult  to  over- 
.*^:imatc  (he  inllucnce  of  Saint  Bernard  of  Clairvaux  upon  all 
iuoc-f-cding  centuries  even  down  to  the  present;  not  merely  because 
of  what  ho  did  in  reforming  the  life  of  the  clergy,  in  establishing 
ou  &  firm  basis  the  dogmas  of  the  church,  in  making  the  mass  the 
ci-niinl  feature  of  divine  worship,  and  in  lifting  the  Virgin  Mary 
la  her  ui-ique  place  at  the  head  of  the  hierarchy  of  saints,  but 
Uvause  he  was  the  first  to  bring  down  from  the  far-off  metaphysical 
hcijrhts  and  plant  in  the  hearts  of  all  men  the  Christ ;  no  longer 
an  abstract  dogma  but  the  Son  of  God  and  the  brother  of  us  all. 
1I«!  wari  tlie  first  to  dv.-ell  in  holy  contemplation  on  the  Saviour's 
••ilToring  and  pain;  his  gentleness  and  love;  on  the  labors  he  per- 
lorined  in  preaching,  his  fatigues  in  journeying,  his  vigils  in 
prayer,  his  temptations  and  fastings,  his  tears  of  s^-mpathy.  "Such 
i!i<nli{ations,"  he  declares,  "uplift  my  spirit  in  adverse  times  and 
Uiry  ofTcr  ."life  leadership  to  one  trying  to  walk  in  the  King's  high- 
yf>ii\,  ktwccn  the  sorrows  and  joys  of  the  present  life.  Therefore 
All  tlie.^e  things  are  often  on  my  lips,  as  you  know;  they  are  always 
in  itiy  hcjirt,  as  God  knows;  they  are  ever  familiar  to  my  pen,  as 
is  ovidint  to  all ;  and  this  is  my  highest  philosophy,  to  know  Jesus 
Chri.sl,  and  liim  crucified."  Down  through  the  ages  his  uplifting 
«nd  t^iiigularly  sanctifying  influence  has  come,  not  only  in  the 
<  h>irvh  of  Jtonie  but  in  all  Christendom,  and  to-day  all  believers  in 
'  hri^t  join  hands  in  harmony  and  peace  as  they  sing  this  most 
^-.aiuiful  of  all  his  hymns: 


70  Melhodist  Be  view  [January 

O  sacred  Head,  now  wounded. 

With  grief  and  shame  weighed  down, 
Now  scornfully  surrounded. 

With  thorns  thine  only  crown; 
O  sacred  Head,  what  glory. 

What  bliss,  till  now  was  thine! 
Yet,  though  despised  and  gory, 

I  joy  to  call  thee  mine. 

Be  near  me  when  I'm  dying, 

O  show  thy  cross  to  me; 
And,  for  my  succor  flying, 

Come,  Lord,  and  set  me  free; 
These  eyes,  new  faith  receiving. 

From  Jesus  shall  not  move; 
For  he  who  dies  believing 

Dies  safely,  through  thy  love. 

It  was  on  a  certain  day  of  the  year  1511  in  the  city  of  Rome. 
The  world  metropolis  had  gone  through  many  vicissitudes  since 
Romulus  had  built  the  rude  wall  about  the  little  settlement  nestling 
half  hidden  among  the  seven  hills.  It  had  grown  and  expanded, 
had  sent  its  legions  forth  to  conquer  the  world,  had  seen  men  of  all 
nations  crowd  within  its  walls,  had  welcomed  with  unexampled 
tolerance  all  kinds  of  religion  until  Christianity  itself  had  taken 
full  possession  and  had  crowded  out  all  else.  It  had  seen  its  walls 
broken  down  and  its  mighty  monuments  destroyed  by  wave  upon 
wave  of  "barbaric  invasion,  Teuton  and  Xorman,  Saracen  and  Chris- 
tian. For  centuries  it  had  stood  in  ruins,  a  shadow  of  its  former 
self,  but  in  these  later  years  a  new  spirit  had  swept  over  the  Holy 
City,  as  it  had  done  over  all  Italy,  the  breath  of  a  new  epoch  in 
the  history  of  mankind — the  Revival  of  Learning,  the  new  birth, 
the  Renaissance.  The  Roman  papacy,  exiled  for  seventy  years  in 
the  modern  Babylon  of  Avignon,  had  come  back  to  Rome,  bringing 
with  it  all  the  splendor  of  its  ritual  and  its  world-embracing  claims, 
with  all  the  multitudinous  offices  and  rewards  at  its  disposal.  A 
great  crowd  of  men  of  letters,  artists,  sculptors,  architects,  rushed 
thither  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  the  church  the  treasures  of  art  and 
learning,  and  as  if  by  magic  a  new  city  had  risen  from  the  moss- 
covered  ruins  of  ancient  Rome,  a  city  once  more  to  amaze  the 
world  by  the  splendor  of  its  buildings,  by  the  brilliancy  of  its  life, 
by  the  corruption  of  its  clergy-.     Paganism  again  was  everywhere 


jr,ioi  '         Visions  of  tlie  Chiist  71 

hftin;;  up  its  head,  in  the  streets,  in  the  palaces  of  the  rich  and 
nohltCi"  t^'<^  service  of  the  church  itself;  taking  possession  of  all 
inijids.  customs,  and  consciences.     To  this  great  sinful  city,  as  it 
nmv  iiulct'd  l>e  called,  came  a  humble,  sincere  German  peasant  monk 
who  for  many  years  had  been  seeking  the  peace  of  his  soul.    Unable 
lo  Hiid  it  in  the  outward  services  of  the  Eoman  Church  at  home, 
|j,.  had  come  now  to  the  mother  city  of  Christendom  with  longing 
in  his  soul.     And  yet,  as  he  went  about  the  streets  of  Eome,  as  he 
gu.n^l  upon  the  magnificent  churches  and  buildings,  as  he  saw  the 
p)iiip  and  pride  of  ecclesiastical  power,  the  worldliness  and  cor- 
ruption of  the  clergy,  the  crass  superstition  of  the  multitude,  little 
l.v  lildo  there  rose  within  him  a  feeling  that  not  in  all  this  lay 
Jho  kingdom  of  God,  and  he  prayed  for  light.     And  so  one  day, 
<{.  firing  to  make  one  further  effort  to  gain  peace  by  the  old  way  of 
j.i.Mjs  works,  he  joined  the  crowd  of  worshipers  who  were  slowly 
climbing  up  the  Santa  Scala  on  their  knees — the  holy  staircase, 
K.-sid  to  have  been  in  Pilate's  palace  and  to  have  been  ascended  by 
tlsc  ftft  of  the  Saviour  himself — and  as  Martin  Luther  slowly  and 
{>:iinfuliy  made  his  way  upward,  lifting  one  knee  after  the  other, 
a  sudden  illumination  revealed  itself  within  him,  and  he  seemed 
\n  bear  a  voice  crying  in  a  tone  of  thunder,  "The  just  shall  live  by 
faith,"  and,  leaping  up,  he  made  the  rest  of  the  ascent  on  his  feet. 
From  that  hour  dates  the  whole  history  of  Protestantism,  that 
th«)ry  which  declares  that  religion  does  not  consist  in  outward 
forms  but  in  inward  experience,  that  forgiveness  of  sins  comes 
tlirecl  from  God  himself  without  any  human  mediation,  that  the 
aim  of  every  pious  soul  is  not  to  fly  from  the  world  but  to  overcome 
«t,  that  the  ideal  toward  which  all  must  tend  is  the  love  of  God 
in  ("hrihit  Jesus  our  Lord.     And  as  the  Roman  Church  was  built 
oti  the  authority  of  Peter,  so  ^Martin  Luther  based  his  great  I\ef- 
•'rination  on  the  doctrine  of  the  justification  by  faith.     "Though 
M  a  monk,"  he  says,  "I  Avas  holy  and  irreproachable,  my  con- 
Krience  was  still  filled  with  trouble  and  torment.     But  when  by 
tk-  spirit  of  God  I  understood  these  words;  when  I  learned  how 
tix*  justification  of  the  sinner  proceeds  from  God's  mere  mercy  by 
the  way  of  truth,  then  I  felt  myself  born  again  as  a  new  man,  and 
I  tillered  by  an  open  door  into  the  very  paradise  of  God.     From 


72  Methodist  Revieiu  [January 

that  hour  I  saw  the  prccioits  and  holy  Scriptures  with  new  ejes. 
And  as  I  had  before  heartily  hated  that  expression,  'the  right- 
eousness of  God/  I  began  from  that  time  to  value  and  to  love  it 
as  the  sweetest  and  most  consolatory  truth.  Truly,  the  text  of 
Paul  was  to  me  the  very  gate  of  heaven."  And  then,  as  bitter 
opposition,  excommunication,  persecution  and  war  were  raised 
against  him,  he  cries  with  all  the  force  of  his  mighty  personality : 
^'I  see  that  the  devil,  by  means  of  his  teachers  and  doctors,  is  inces- 
santly attackiog  this  fundamental  article.  Well,  then,  I,  Doctor 
Martin  Luther,  an  unworthy  evangelist  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
do  confess  this  article,  'that  faith  alone,  without  works,  justifies 
in  the  sight  of  God' ;  and  I  declare  that  in  spite  of  the  emperor  of 
the  Romans,  the  emperor  of  the  Turks,  the  emperor  of  the  Tartars, 
the  emperor  of  the  Persians,  the  Pope,  all  the  cardinals,  bishops, 
priests,  monks,  nuns,  kings,  princes,  nobles,  all  the  world  and  all 
the  devils,  it  shall  stand  unshaken  forever."  There  is  no  need  of 
repeating  the  oft-told  story  of  what  followed  this  scene  on  the  Santa 
Scala  at  Pome:  the  nailing  of  the  ninety  theses  on  the  church  door 
at,  Wittenberg,  the  dispute  with  Eck,  the  Diet  of  Worms,  where 
were  uttered  those  words  which,  like  the  first  shot  fired  at  Lex- 
ington, literally  echoed  around  the  world,  the  concealment  in  the 
Wartburg,  the  translation  of  the  ]3ible,  and  the  death  of  Luther 
himself,  in  15-iG,  uttering  this  last  prayer:  "Heavenly  Father, 
eternal,  merciful  God,  thou  hast  revealed  to  me  thy  dear  Son,  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  llim  I  have  taught,  him  I  have  confessed,  him 
I  love  as  my  Saviour  and  Eedeemer,  whom  the  wicked  persecute, 
dishonor,  and  reprove.  Take  my  poor  soul  up  to  thee."  Then 
came  the  world-shaking  religious  wars:  those  of  the  Huguenots  in 
France,  the  Thirty  Years'  War  jn  Germany,  and  the  Puritan  Revo- 
lution in  England,  until,  a  hundred  years  after  Luther's  death,  the 
final  line  of  division  was  dra^vn  once  for  all  betAvcen  Protestant  and 
Catholic  lands. 

And  now  the  scene  changes  once  more — this  time  to  England, 
to  the  parish  of  Elstow  near  the  town  of  Bedford.  In  June,  1645, 
the  battle  of  Xaseby  had  ended  the  first  civil  war,  and  a  year  after 
the  army  had  been  disbanded.  Among  the  soldiers  thus  disbanded 
was  a  poor  artisan,  of  lowly  family  and  of  ungodly  life.    The  deep 


.,,j,,|  Visions  of  lite  Christ  'i'3 

r,  li-ious  spirit  of  the  time  liad  takeu  fast  hold  upon  bim  and  con- 
V  u-iun\  of  <n\  sank  into  liis  soul.  He  was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense 
..f  his  utter  corruptio]!  and  the  terrors  of  hell.  His  mind  was 
ftjuvtcd,  and  he  was  beset  with  the  awful  temptation  to  sell  bis 
Saviour,  ns  Judas  had  done  of  old.  It  was  with  him  day  and 
i.iidit,  and  ho  could  not  so  much  as  stoop  to  pick  up  a  pin,  chop  a 
>!i<-k,  or  cast  his  eye  to  look  on  anything,  without  hearing  that 
Rv,f-ii  whisper,  ''Sell  Christ  for  this;  sell  Christ  for  that;  sell  him, 
M  11  him."  And  he  Avould  shout  back,  "I  will  not,  I  will  not,  no, 
ii<.i  for  thousands,  thousands,  thousands  of.  worlds."  But  bis  de- 
livrviinco  came  at  last.  For  one  day  as  he  was  passing  into  a  field, 
hix  conscience  still  darkly  troubled,  and  fear  and  anguish  in  bis 
li.-rtrt,  he  seemed  to  bear  a  voice  from  heaven  uttering  these  words: 
••Thy  righteousness  is  in  heaven";  ''and  metbought  withal,"  be 
>nv8,  "I  saw  with  the  eyes  of  my  soul  Jesus  Christ  at  God's  right 
hniid;  there,  I  say,  was  my  righteousness;  so  that  wherever  I  was, 
..r  whatever  I  was  doing,  God  could  not  say  of  me,  lie  wants  my 
riphlcousncss,  .  .  .  for  my  righteousness  was  Jesus  Clirist  bim- 
K>!f,  'The  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever.'  "  And  that  little 
Jirhl  near  Bedford  tOwn  has /become  a  historic  spot  in  the  religious 
hi.slory  of  the  world.  John  Bunyan  left  it  with  bis  burdens  gone, 
bin  lfmi)tation  put  to  flight  forever,  bis  heart  full  of  rejoicing  for 
th<'  grax^e  and  the  love  of  God.  As  be  walked  home,  the  whole  world 
wRa  transfigured  and  radiant  with  a  new  glory,  for  in  his  heart, 
!iko  Diivid  in  Browning's  poem,  he  felt  at  last  the  new  law,  and 

The  lianie  stared  in  the  white,  humid  faces  upturned  by  the  flowers; 
Thp  R.-inio  worked  in  the  heart  of  the  cedars  and  moved  the  vine-bowers, 
AuJ  the  little  brooks,  witnessing,  murmured,  persistent  and  low, 
\Vlth  iheir  obstinate,  all-but-hushed  voices,  "E'en  so;  it  is  so." 

And  then  came  bis  preaching  to  the  crowds  of  simple  folk  in 
thi-  country  round  about,  the  prohibition  by  the  restored  church. 
His  imprisonment  for  twelve  years  in  Bedford  jail,  the  %vriting 
"f  liifl  books,  Grace  Abounding  to  the  Chief  of  Sinners  and  the 
I'ilgrini's  Progress.  Well  might  be  exclaim  in  bis-rude  verse, 
For  though  men  keep  my  outward  man 

V/ithin  their  bolts  and  bars. 

Yet,  by  the  faith  of  Christ,  I  can 

Mount  higher  than  the  stars. 


74  "  Methodist  lie  vie  lu  '  [January 

For  he  has  won  imperishable  glorv  and  exerted  an  undying 
influence  through  that  wonderful  book  in  which,  like  Dante  of 
old,  John  Bunyan  tells  in  simple  language  of  man's  escape  from 
sin  and  the  sorrows  of  the  world.  Where  in  all  civilized  lands 
exists  a  man  who  does  not  know  the  story  of  Christian  and  his 
experiences  in  the  Slough  of  Despond,  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
of  Death,  Vanity  Fair,  the  House  Beautiful,  the  Land  of  Beulah  ? 
"Who  has  not  read  with  uplifted  soid  the  scenes  in  which  are 
described  the  crossing  of  the  river  and  the  welcome  into  the 
Heavenly  City  i  Dean  Stanley  has  declared  the  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress to  be  one  of  the  few  books  which  act  as  a  religious  bond  to 
all  English  Christendom.  It  is  one  of  the  first  to  be  translated  by 
the  missionary,  and,  as  has  been  beautifully  said,  '^it  follows  the 
Bible  from  land  to  land  as  the  singing  of  birds  follows  the  da^^m." 

It  -was  midnight  in  the  great  city  of  Xew  York.  The  tide  of 
business  had  passed  away;  weary  toilers  in  shop  and  factory  and 
office  had  gone  to  their  homes.  The  streets  of  the  business  districts 
were  silent  and  dark,  yawning  like  black  canons  between  the  great 
masses  of  the  buildings,  ten,  twenty,  thirty  stories  high.  The 
upper  part  of  tlie  city,  however,  was  all  ablaze  with  light  and  gay 
with  brilliantly  dressed  men  and  women  issuing  from  theater  and 
opera  house,  entering  their  cabs,  which  rattled  away  over  the 
asphalt  pavement,  or  seated  in  the  richly  adorned  cafes  and  restau- 
rants, which  now  began  a  second  day  for  the  benefit  of  the  fashiona- 
ble world  as  well  as  the  demi-monde  of  Xew  York.  The  other  side 
of  the  city,  too,  was  alive,  if  that  word  can  be  applied  to  the  awful 
specters  of  low  vice  and  crime  which  slunk  along  the  streets, 
crouched  in  dark  doorways,  and  sought  with  infinitely  pathetic 
attempts  at  coquetry  to  hire  the  unthinking  youth  to  his  destruc- 
tion. Midnight  had  just  sounded  from  all  the  church  bells  and 
shed  for  a  moment  a  semblance  of  peace  over  all.  It  was  in  one 
of  the  numerous  saloons  that  crowd  each  other  on  Third  Avenue 
and  the  Bowery.  A  man  was  sitting  in  a  drunken  stupor  on  an 
empty  whisky  keg.  Around  him  men  were  coming  and  going, 
ordering  drinks,  cursing,  quarreling,  amid  the  dingy,  smoke- 
grimed,  beer-stained  atmosphere.  The  man  himself  was  a  mere 
^vreck,  a  ruin  of  his  former  self.     lie  had  lost  evervthing  that 


1010]  Visions  of  the  Christ  75 

makes  life  worth  the  liviug.  His  friends  had  deserted  him,  even  his 
wife,  whom  he  had  married  in  those  far-off  days  when  he  was  in- 
nocent and  upright  and  full  of  hope,  who  had  loved  him  and  clung 
to  him  till  she  could  stand  it  no  longer,  had  left  him  and  gone  to 
her  home  in  the  south,  a  broken-hearted  woman.  Hear  him  tell 
his  own  story :  "I  was  sitting  on  a  whisky  barrel  for  perhaps  two 
hours  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  seemed  to  feel  some  great  and 
mighty  presence.  I  did  not  know  then  what  it  was.  I  learned 
afterward  it  was  Jesus,  the  sinner's  Friend.  Xever  till  my  dying 
day  will  I  forget  the  sight  presented  to  my  horrified  gaze.  jMv 
sins  appeared  to  creep  along  the  wall  in  letters  of  fire.  I  turned 
and  looked  in  another  direction,  and  there  I  saw  them  again.  I 
have  always  believed  I  got  a  view  of  eternity  right  there  in  that 
gin-mill.  I  believe  I  saw  what  every  poor  lost  sinner  will  see  when 
he  stands  unrepentant  and  unforgiven  at  the  bar  of  God.  It  filled 
me  with  unspeakable  terror.  I  thought  I  was  dying.  Those  near 
by  were  looking  on  with  scornful  curiosity.  I  said:  'Boys,  listen 
to  me.  I  am  dying,  but  I  will  die  in  the  street  before  I  will  ever 
take  another  drink.'  "  And  he  kept  his  word ;  for  though  he  lived 
nearly  twenty-four  years  longer,  from  that  night,  April  18,  1SS2, 
in  Kirker's  saloon,  at  Third  Avenue  and  125th  Street,  Samuel 
Hopkins  Hadley  never  tasted  a  drop  of  liquor  till  his  death. 
And"  when  he  died  thousands  rose  to  call  him  blessed — thousands 
of  '-poor  bums"  w^hom  he  loved  and  for  whom  he  prayed  with 
his  dying  breath,  thousands  of  those  who  contributed  to  the  support 
of  the  Water  Street  Mission,  where  for  eighteen  years  he  was  the 
leader  and  the  inspiration  of  thousands  all  over  the  land  whose 
hearts  have  thrilled  as  they  have  read  in  his  own  words  of  his 
vision  of  the  Christ,  and  who  remember  how  that  vision  made 
an  epoch  not  only  in  his  o^vn  life  but  in  the  lives  of  hundreds  of 
others. 

To  these  and  countless  others  the  vision  has  come  in  the 
silence  of  the  sleep  time,  in  the  glare  of  noonday  sun,  to  scholar 
and  warrior,  to  theologian  and  mystic,  to  saint  and  sinner,  inspir- 
ing them  to  the  service  of  God  and  man;  giving  them  power  to  the 
winning  of  multitudes  by  word  of  mouth,  by  written  page,  or  by 
the  charm  of  a  holy  life.    And  we  need  indeed,  from  time  to  time, 


76  Methodist  Ucvieiv  [January 

to  read  over  the  story  of  these  visions  of  a  higher  spiritual  life. 
For  how  often  as  we  look  out  over  the  world  and  see  on  all  sides 
strife  and  envy,  as  wc  read  the  revelations  of  greed  and  corruption 
in  our  own  favored  land,  and  hear  the  rumors  of  war  and  bloodshed 
far  off  in  distant  lands,  do  we  yield  involuntarily  to  a  sense  of  dis- 
couragement and  doubt.  "Who  can  explain  to  us  the  strange 
mystery  of  sin  and  snffei'iiig?  Who  can  teach  us  to  catch  the 
music  behind  the  apjiarcnt  discord  of  life? 

Verily  there  is  but  one  name  gi\cn  unto  men  whereby  they 
can  attain  unto  this  vision  of  the  truth.  On  a  statue  of  Isis  in 
Egypt  were  written  these  words:  '*T  am  whatsoever  was,  whatso- 
ever is,  whatsoever  shall  be,  and  the  veil  that  is  over  my  face 
no  mortal  shall  ever  lift."  In  a  letter  written  by  Petrarch  to 
Bocaccio,  v.dien  the  latter  was  nearing  his  death,  he  says,  speaking 
of  a  certain  priest  of  Siena  named  Petroni,  ^'And  in  Christ's  face 
it  was  conceded  to  him  to  read  the  things  that  are,  the  thing-s  that 
have  been,  and  the  things  that  are  to  come."  The  statue- of  Isis — 
what  is  it  but  the  riddle  of  the  universe  seen  through  the  eyes  of 
science  alone  ?  The  priest  of  Siena— what  is  he  but  the  type  of 
all  those  to  whom  God,  through  Christ,  has  revealed  himself;  of 
those  whose  hearts  are  filled  with  that  love  which  "believeth  all 
things  and  hopeth  all  things,"  and  with  that  faith  which  alone  will 
enable  "a  man  to  say,  with  Saint  Paul,  "For  now  we  see  through  a 
glass,  darkly;  ])ut  then  face  to  face:  now  I  know  in  part;  but  then 
shall  I  know  even  as  also  I  am  known"  ? 


^QUX^     ^AAyfv^lA/l^. 


yt\v]  Broirning  and  Omar  Khaijijdni  77 


,^,,,^  VL_Br.OWXING  AND  OMAR  KHAYYAM 

A   (\)M1'AKI.S0N  OF  ''EaBBI  BeN  EzUa"  AND  THE  ''EuCAIYIt" 

1  r  i.s  a  curious  fact  that  readers  take  great  interest  in  literary 
i.r.-liiv-tioHs   of  very  different   and  even  contradictory  qualities. 
'I'lii-  i-iij<\vnient  may  come  from  the  elements  they  have  in  common 
---the  poetic  diction,  the  rhythm,  and  the  imagination;  or  it  may 
U  diif  to  the  diverse  factors  in  our  very  complex  natures  that  take 
a:i  ijil.TCst  in  opposite  elements.     We  are  therefore  not  surprised 
vihrn  we  find  the  same  persons  enjoying  such  unlike  poems  as 
Iln.wniiig'!^  *'Rabbi  Ben  Ezra"  and  Omar  Khayyam's  "Rubaiyat." 
Whilf  lK)th  possess  many  of  the  excellences  of  all  good  poetry,  and 
in-  dct-ervrdly  popular,   Omar's  poem  presents  a  very  different 
vitw  of  life  from  Bro^\ming's,  the  latter,  we  venture  to  say,  much 
Use  truf-r.     Given  all  the  formal  qualities  of  good  poetry,   the 
uhit:uite  value  and  the  greatness  of  a  poem  depend  upon  the  sound- 
i.'r.s  and  wholc-omer.ess  of  its  interpretation  of  life  and  its  under- 
lying j.liilosophy.     The  gTcatest  poetry  is  that  which  expresses  not 
merely  fome  but  all  of  the  elements  of  human  nature,  and  in  the 
TcoFl  complete  aiid  comprehensive  maimer.     Herein  consists  the 
i'.:iHriority  of  ''Rabbi  Ben  Ezra"  over  the  "Rubaiyat."     It  is  not 
lii.iwn  jK.sitively  that  Browning  had  seen  EitzGerald's  translation 
of  Omar  Khayyam  before  writing  his  ''Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,"  but  it 
♦"■«  :ns  likely  that  he  liad  either  read  it  or  heard  of  it  and  its  contents 
ffu:ri  g^tme  of  his  friends,  most  probably  fromRossetti.  FitzGerald  j 
j'-m  wa^  "published  in  1S59,  while  Bro^^ming  was  still  in  Italy, 
«  Iht-*'  he  foimd  it  difficult  to  get  books  ;  but  Rossetti  and  Browning 
wrn«  c:)rrospond9nts,  and  Rossetti  is  known  to  have  bought  early 
f»'I»i<-fi  of  the  translation  of  Omar  to  send  to  his  friends.  At  any  rate, 
Jt  WM  ii(,t  long  after  the  appearance  of  Omar  that  Browning  wrote 
"lUM.i  Ben  Ezra,"  for  it  was  published  in  his  next  volume,  Dram- 
ii-i*  i'trfoTin',  in  lSO-1.     It  seems  probable,  then,  that  Browning 
*Tv.U'  his  |x)eiii— his  Psalm  of  Life — in  direct  opposition  to  that  of 
<»JnJtr   Khayyam;  that   ''Rabbi   Ben   Ezra"   contains  Browning's 
»^ilv  lo  the  view  of  life  that  found  such  entrancing  expression  in 
Jhat  j¥xxn.  But  if  there  is  little  or  no  external  evidence  bearing 


78       ^  Methodist  Eevieiu  [January 

directly  on  the  matter  there  is  abundant  internal  evidence  to  indi- 
cate that  BrowTiing  had  Omar  in  mind  when  he  wrote.  The  poems 
deal  with  the  same  general  problems  of  life  in  much  the  same 
manner,  and  they  even  employ  the  same  figures  of  speech. 
'  Bro\niing's  poem  takes  up  almost  every  main  point  of  Omar's, 
and  the  very  forms  of  expression  seem  to  be  chosen  to  show  the 
contrast  in  the  points  of  view.  The  coincidences  are  so  many  and 
so  striking  that  one  is  almost  forced  to  the  conviction  that  Brown- 
ing wrote  with  a  copy  of  Omar  before  him.  A  study  and  com- 
parison of  the  poems  will  show  the  fundamental  differences  in  the 
views. 

It  is  no  part  of  the  present  purpose  to  discuss  the  many 
questions  about  Omar  that  have  arisen  since  Browning  wrote  his 
poem.  It  is  sufficient  for  us  to  take  the  poem  as  it  appeared  in 
the  first  edition,  not  considering  how  much  or  how  little  it  con- 
tains of  either  Omar  or  FitzGerald.  It  may  be  that  FitzGcrald's 
''Bubaiyat"  '-'is  a  poem  on  Omar  rather  than  a  translation  of  his 
work,"  and  it  may  be  that  the  poem  should  be  given  a  mystical 
rather  than  a  literal  interpretation,  but  these  questions  have  no 
significance  for  us.  xVll  we  are  called  upon  to  consider  is  the 
meaning  which  was. accepted  by  the  readers  of  the  day  and  doubt- 
less by  Browning  if,  as  we  suppose,  he  knew  the  poem. 

The  two  poems,  one  spoken  by  a  Persian  and  the  other  by  a 
Hebrew,  present  in  contrast  what  may  be  called  the  secular  view 
of  life  and  the  religious.  In  the  first  a  young  man  looks  out  upon 
life  and,  seeing  time  passing  and  old  age  approaching,  resolves  to 
make  the  most  of  the  pleasures  of  the  present,  ^^atever  else  the 
world  may  afi'ord,  it  certainly  offers  opportunities  for  enjoyment. 
Therefore  make  the  best  of  that  which  is  at  hand: 

And,  as  the  Cock  crew,  those  who  stood  before 
The  Tavern  shouted:  "Open,  then,  the  Door! 
.      You  know  hov,'  little  while  we  have  to  stay. 
And,  once  departed,  may  return  no  more." 

In  the  second  an  old  rabbi  is  speaking,  presumably  in  reply  to  a 
disciple  or  friend  who  regrets  the  master's  advancing  age,  and 
expresses  the  view  that  with  old  age  he  is  only  coming,  into  the 
ripeness  and  the  best  of  life.     Old  age  is  the  harvest  of  which 


]«jlOj  Broicn'mg  and  Omar  Khayyam  79 

voutb  wns  the  seed-time,  and  the  reaping  is  better  than  the  sowing. 

It  is  better  that  one  should  grow  old,  and  not  forever  retain  the 

j.^iiorance  and  immaturity  of  youth: 

Grow  old  along  with  me! 

The  best  is  yet  to  be. 

The  last  of  life,  for  which  the  first  was  made. 

lioth  poets  advocate  making  use  of  the  present.  The  past  has  gone 
nnd  cannot  be  recalled.  The  future  is  not  yet  here  and  cannot  be 
enjoyed.  All  we  have  is  the  present,  and  wisdom  tells  us  to  use 
it  to  the  fullest  extent.  But  reasons  that  reveal  very  different 
ideals  of  life  are  given  for  seizing  to-day.  The  pleasure-loving 
Persian  says  we  should  use  the  present  because  in  it  alone  we  have 
pleasure.  Pleasures  cannot  be  enjoyed  at  any  other  time.  We 
should  therefore  take  pleasure  to-day,  while  it  lasts,  for  pleasure 
is  the  only  good.  He,  accordingly,  sings  the  praises  of  wine,  to 
him  the  s}^nbol  of  pleasure  and  enjoyment : 

Dreaming  when  Dawn's  Left  Hand  was  in  the  Sky 

I  heard  a  Voice  within  the  Tavern  cry, 
"Awake,  my  Little  ones,  and  fill  the  Cup 

Before  Life's  Liquor  in  its  Cup  be  dry." 

The  Hebrew,  who.no  doubt  expresses  fully  the  mind  of  Browning, 
urges  participation  in  the  duties  of  to-day,  hard  though  they  be, 
for  human  life  consists  in  intellectual  and  spiritual  endeavor  even 
through  doubts  and  fears.  This  it  is  that  distingtiishes  man  from 
the  brute.  Human  life  consists  in  a  sort  of  spiritual  uneasiness, 
not  in  a  pleasurable  ease : 

^  Here,  work  enough  to  watch 
The  Master  work,  and  catch 
Hints  of  the  proper  craft,  tricks  of  the  tool's  true  play. 

The  same  general  counsel  seems  to  be  given  by  both  poets.  "We  are 
to  seize  to-day  {carpe  diem)  and  make  the  best  use  of  it  we  can; 
no  form  of  philosophy  can  promise  us  to-morrow.  It  is  a  matter 
'lot  of  reason  but  of  observation  that  we  cannot  be  sure  of  the 
future.  But  Omar's  reason  for  seizing  the  present  is  one  thing 
and  Browning's  quite  another.  Omar  tells  us  to  use  to-day  because 
It  IS  all  we  have  in  which  to  enjoy  ourselves.  At  any  rate,  says 
this  spendthrift  philosophy,  the  present  is  always  best: 


80  Mcthodiat  Rcc'iew  [January 

Ah,  my  Belov&d,  fill  the  Cup  that  clears 
To-Day  of  past  Regrets  and  future  Fears — 

To-morroic? — Why,  To-morrow  I  may  be 
Myself,  v.'ith  Yesterday's  Sev'n  Thousand  Years. 

Tlie  Eabbi,  on  the  other  hand,  advises  us  to  seize  the  present 
because  the  future  grows  out  of  the  present  and  the  future  is 
always  the  best.  Though  we  live  in  the  present,  the  future  is  always 
becoming  the  present  and  is  made  of  the  present.  To-day  ie  the 
germ  out  of  which  to-morrow  grows : 

Therefore  I  sumraou  age 

To  grant  youth's  heritage. 

Life's  strussle  having  so  far  reached  its  term: 

Thence  shall  I  pass,  approved 

A  man,  for  aye  removed 

From  the  developed  brute;  a  God,  though  in  the  germ. 

The  effort  to  make  the  most  of  the  present  soon  fills  the  past  with 
triumphs,  and  ''The  Future  I  may  face  now  I  have  proved  the 
Past." 

^he  two  poems,  again,  disagi-ee  fundamentally  concerning 
the  purpose  of  life.  Omar  knows  of  nothing  but  enjoyment, 
pleasure,  to  be  obtained  for  its  owm  sake.  He  is  a  pure  hedonist, 
and  knows  no  end  but  the  pleasure  of  the  moment.  Life  is  to  be 
estimated  in  terms  of  enjoyment,  even  of  indulgence.  All  else 
is  vain: 

Here  with  a  Loaf  of  Bread  beneath  the  Bough, 
A  Flask  of  "Wine,  a  Book  of  Verse — and  Thou 
Beside  me  singing  in  the  Wilderness — 
And  Wilderness  is  Paradise  enow. 

To  Browning,  however,  life  is  not  pleasure  but  discipline.  We 
are  not  here  to  enjoy  ourselves  but  to  undergo  training  for  the 
larger  life  to  come.  Life  is  a  school,  and  the  process  of  life  an 
education.  There  are  larger  purposes  in  life  than  merely  the 
pleasures  of  the  individual  and  of  the  moment.  ^Ye  have  each 
a  place  in  the  great  plan  of  the  world,  and  should  be  ready  to  take 
our  part  even  if  it  be  difficult.    There  lies  our  best  and  fullest  life: 

Then  welcome  each  rebuff 

That  turns  earth's  smoothness  rough, 

Each  sting  that  bids  nor  sit  nor  stand,  but  go! 

Be  our  joys  three  parts  pain! 

Strive,  and  hold  cheap  the  strain; 
I>€arn,  nor  account  the  pang;  dare,  never  grudge  the  throe! 


](ilO]  Browning  and  Omar  Khayyam  81 

Kothing  in  the  two  poems,  probably,  better  presents  their  dif- 
ftrencca  than  the  uses  made  of  tlic  figure  of  the  potter  and  the 
ch»y.  This  common  Eastern  figure  serves  to  present  not  only  the 
two  views  of  human  life  but  the  different  conceptions  of  the  uni- 
verse as  well.  To  Omar  we  are  the  clay  which  is  molded  into 
cups  merely  that  we  may  enjoy  the  wine  of  life.  To  Browning 
we  are  the  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  Potter  who  molds  us  for  his 
own  UPC  and  at  the  same  time  for  our  highest  good.  Omar,  looking 
to  "uses  of  a  cup,"  sees  nothing  but  goodly  fellowship  and 
joviality : 

My  Clay  with  long  Oblivion  is  gone  dry: 
But,  fill  me  with  the  old  familiar  Juice, 

RIethinks  I  might  recover  by  and  by! 

l^rowning,  looking  beyond  himself  to  the  larger  "uses  of  a  cup," 

bces  the  divine  plan  for  us,  and  sees  man  fulfilling  a  world  purpose 

and  helping  to  complete  the  schemes  of  the  Infinite.     Man   is 

given  participation  in  the  designs  of  God,  and  his  largest  life  is 

accomplished  in  fulfilling  that  purpose: 

Ix;ok  not  thou  down,  but  up, 
To  uses  of  a  cup: 

The  festal  beard,  lamp's  flash,  and  trumpet's  peal. 
The  new  wine's  foaming  flow. 
The  Master's  lips  aglow! 

ITiou,  heaven's  consummate  cup,  what  needst  thou  with  earth's  wheel? 

-Ma:\  if  he  will  thus  subuiit  himself  to  be  molded  on  the  wheel  of 
life  by  the  Divine  Potter,  can  be  of  service  to  God,  and  will  find  his 
*'U(1  to  be  "to  slake  Thy  thirst" — a  great  and  worthy  oflice. 

As  a  consequence  from  his  view  of  man,  Omar  docs  not  believe 
ill  a  life  after  death.  Man  comes  to  the  end  of  his  days  and  is 
no  niore.  There  is  nothing  to  be  hoped  for  from  the  process  of 
tinie  but  the  continuance  of  the  race.  Individuality  is  very  real, 
but  is  only  transient.  Man  comes  from  nothing  and  passes  again 
Hilo  nothing.  We  live,  and  pass  away  to  make  room  for  others: 
And  we,  that  now  make  merry  in  the  Room 
They  left,  and  Summer  dresses  in  new  Bloom, 

Ourselves  must  we  beneath  the  Couch  of  Earth 
Descend,  ourselves  to  make  a  Couch — for  whom? 

'>iit  where  are  we  v/hen  v.e  have  passed  away  to  leave  room  for 
uie  next  generation?     We  are  nowhere,  and  of  us  there  is  utterly 


82  *     Methodist  Review  [January 

nothing.  Omar's  materialism  is  destructive  not  only  of  all  per- 
sonality, but  it  leaves  no  room  even  for  itself : 

And  if  the  Wine  you  drink,  the  Lip  you  press, 
End  in  the  Nothing  all  Things  end  in — Yes — 

Then  fancy  while  Thou  art,  Thou  art  but  what 
Thou  Shalt  be — Nothing — Thou  shalt  not  be  less. 

This  same  question  also  troubled  Tennyson.  He  looked  out  upon 
life  and  saw  the  race  continue  while  the  individual  passed  away, 
and  wondered  what  would  be  the  end  of  all.  After  a  hard  spiritual 
and  mental  struggle  he  reached  the  conclusion  Browning  reached 
instinctively:  that  the  individual  passes  on  to  a  larger  life  in 
another  world.  To  Browning  nothing  that  ever  really  exists  can 
perish.     The  soul  that  once  lives  can  never  die: 

Fool!     All  that  is,  at  all, 
Lasts  ever,  past  recall; 

Earth  changes,  but  thy  soul  and  God  stand  sure: 
What  entered  into  thee, 
That  was,  is,  and  shall  be: 

Time's  wheel  runs  back  nor  stops:  Potter  and  clay  endure. 

Such  are  the  views  of  life  presented  in  the  two  poems.  Omar 
believes  in  nothing  but  pleasure ;  Browning  regards  life  as  duty 
and'  as  training.  Omar  has  little  but  contempt  for  man  and 
skepticism  for  all  spiritual  things;  Browning  '"thinks  nobly  of 
the  soul"  and  entertains  high  hopes  of  its  spiritual  destiny.  Omar's 
philosophy  is  gloomy  and  pessimistic  in  the  extreme ;  Browning's 
is  cheerful  and  optimistic.  These  two  types  of  thinking  have  been 
in  the  world  almost  from  the  beginning  of  thought,  and  to  this  day 
neither  has  argued  the  other  entirely  out  of  court.  The  vitality 
of  both  views  may  be  due  to  the  possession  of  some  truth  by  each, 
but  the  cost  of  human  thinking  makes  the  former  harder  and 
harder  to  maintain.  They  arc  very  similar  to  the  two  Greek 
schools,  Epicureans  and  Stoics,  that  have  had  their  advocates  in 
all  ages  of  the  world.  Omar  is  in  all  important  points  an  Epi- 
curean, though  Browning  is  more  than  a  Stoic.  Both  these  schools 
are  known  as  incomplete  Socratics,  each  representing  one  phase  of 
the  teaching  of  the  great  master.  Omar,  like  the  Epicureans,  is  a 
follower  of  individual  pleasnre,  and,  like  them,  is  a  materialist, 
disbelieving  in  cither  God  or  immortality.     Browning,  however, 


yjH)]  Browning  and  Omar  Khayyam  83 

lias  not  such  a  bard  system  as  the  Stoics,  for  he  does  not  ignore 
\hc  Iksh  and  pleasure,  but  transforms  them  to  the  purposes  of  spirit. 
All  things  can  be  enjoyed  if  only  they  are  given  spiritual  uses. 
Nothing  is  foreign  to  the  soul,  and  all  things  can  be  made  to  serve 
tjian'8  higher  purposes: 

As  the  bird  wings  and  sings, 

I^t  us  cry,  "All  good  things  t 

Are  ours,  nor  soul  helps  flesh  more,  now,  than  flesh  helps  soul!" 

drowning  represents  the  one  complete  Socratic  (and  Platonic) 
view  that  embraces  in  itself  all  the  truth  contained  in  either 
Omar's  hedonism  or  the  contradictory  asceticism  of  the  Stoic 
iH'liof.  His  view  admits  of  pleasure  and  at  the  same  time  calls 
for  duty,  and  out  of  the  combination  of  the  two  produces  a  more 
coniploto  spiritual  ideal,  the  orthodox  view  of  the  great  classic 
{KX'ts  and  philosophers.  To  hold  to  the  former  has  always  been 
dangerous  to  the  moral  life,  for  it  is  a  kind  of  moral  blight  and 
^prings  frequently  from  an  ignoble  life.  Professor  Cowell,  who 
Lr.-^t  introduced  FitzGerald  to  Persian  literature,  has  said:  "Xo 
wonder  that  gloom  overshadows  all  Omar  Khayyam's  poetry;  he 
was  false  to  his  bettor  self,  and  therefore  ill  at  ease  and  sad.  He 
was  resolved  to  ignore  the  future  and  the  spiritual,  and  anchor 
only  by  the  material  and  tangible;  but  his  very  insight  became 
blinded  and  misled  him,  and  instead  of  something  solid  and  satis- 
fying he  grasped  only  a  'darkness  that  could  he  felt.'  We  can  trace 
tho  evil,  running  like  a  canker  through  his  life;  his  pleasures,  his 
fri»ndshii)s,  nay,  his  very  studies  become  blighted  under  its 
touch."  On  the  contrary.  Browning's  is  the  view  that  conduces 
to  noble  life  and  high  moral  purpose.  It  takes  for  granted  that 
lile  is  worth  while  and  that  it  can  be  made  noble  by  effort.  It 
inspires  to  high  ideals  and  lofty  endeavor,  for  even  our  efforts 
will  k'  counted  in  reckoning  the  achievements  of  life.  Our  ideals 
go  to  niake  up  the  estimate  of  our  spiritual  worth: 

Thoughts  hardly  to  be  packed 
Into  a  narrow  act, 

Fancies  that  broke  through  language  and  escaped; 
All  I  could  never  be,  ■ 
All  men  ignored  in  mc, 

This  I  was  worth  to  God,  whose  wheel  the  pitcher  shaped. 


84  MiUiodisi  Ticuiciv  [January 

In  the  days  when  Omar  is  in  vogue  the  teaching  of  Browning 
comes  as  a  moral  and  spiritual  tonic  and  lifts  men  above  the  base 
desires  into  a  confidence  in  the  good  and  the  infinite.  A  view  of  the 
self  such  as  Omar  held  leads  naturally  to  a  fatalistic  and  atheistic 
.view  of  the  world.  The  pleasure-loving  and  pleasure-seeking  indi- 
vidual is  likely  to  have  a  contempt  not  only  for  himself  and  his 
plan  of  life,  but  for  the  world  which  is  the  embodiment  of  snch  a 
system.  Iso  man  can  follow  his  lower  self  without  both  despising 
himself  and  the  Avorld  which  he  thinks  of  as  an  enlarged  self. 
The  hedonistic  ideal  is  incompatible  with  an  infinite  intelligence. 
To  be  such  a  pleasure-lover  as  Omar  one  needs  also  to  be  an 
atheist,  or,  at  least,  a  skeptic.  And  Omar  seems  now  atheist,  now 
skeptic ;  now  denying  and  now  doubting  an  overruling  Intelligence. 
The  absence  of  moral  faith  is  frequently  the  reason  of  such  atheistic 
belief,  and  moral  faith  is  a  quality  of  the  individual: 

O,  come  with  old  Khayyam,  and  leave  the  Wise 

To  talk;  one  thing  is  certain,  that  Life  flies; 

One  thing  is  certain,  and  the  Rest  is  Lies; 

The  Flower  that  once  has  blown  forever  dies. 

Omar  did  not  reach  this  skepticism  without  first  trying  to  reach 
knowledge.  He  first  consulted  the  wise  men,  bnt  found  they 
could  not  answer  his  questions: 

My.se]f  when  young  did  eagerly  frequent 
Doctor  and  Saint,  and  heard  great  Argument 
About  it  and  about:  but  evermore 
Came  out  by  the  same  Door  as  in  I  went. 

Perplexed  and  bafiled,  he  resorted  to  the  wise  of  both  philosophy 
and  religion,  and,  getting  no  answer  to  his  queries,  was  still  per- 
plexed. There  is  a  kind  of  sincerity  and  honesty  in  Omar  that 
deserves  our  respect.  The  church  of  his  day  (]\[ohammedan)  of- 
fered him  only  srones  for  bread,  and  he  naturally  doubted  if  there 
were  such  a  thing  as  true  bread.  If  it  is  a  man's  duty  to  believe,  it 
is  also  the  church's  duty  to  present  doctrines  that  can  be  believed. 
It  seems,  therefore,  Omar's  misfortune  as  well  as  fault  that  he 
falls,  into  snch  desolate  despair  and  doubt.  It  sometimes  takes 
more  independence  and  manliness  to  doubt  than  to  believe.  In  the 
case  of  Omar,  ho\ve\er,  the  fault  is  not  more  Avith  the  doctrines 
offered  him  than  with  the  ignoble  ideals  with  which  he  started.     It 


Iljju]  Browning  and  Omar  Kliayydm  85 

bufl  nlwajs  been  true,  in  Persia  as  in  Palestine,  that  to  learn  the 

doctrine  of  God  it  is  first  necessary-  to  do  his  ^vill.     Omar  seems 

to  have  tried  first  to  learn  the  doctrine,  and,  failing  in  this,  to  have 

M'sortcd  to  doubt  and  to  wine : 

Divorced  old  barren  Reason  from  my  Bed, 
And  took  the  Daughter  of  the  Vine  to  Spouse. 

Such  infidelity  of  conduct  becomes  the  fruitful  mother  of  doubts 
and  disbeliefs.  Petui-ning  upon  himself,  he  'Svatches  the  perverse 
course  of  human  affairs"  and  doubts  whether  there  be  a  God. 
Wlmtevcr  power  there  is  in  the  universe  then  seems  to  play  arbi- 
trarily with  human  life  and  destiny,  and  to  be  in  no  way  worthy 
of  our  reverence  and  of  our  worship  : 

'Tis  all  a  Chequer-board  of  Nights  and  Days 
Where  Destiny  with  Men  for  Pieces  plays: 
Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  mates,  and  slays. 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  *^Closet  lays. 

Wc  Bcem  but  pawn^  in  the  hands  of  an  arbitrary  and  unfeeling 
Fate  that  uses  us  for  its  own  capricious  purposes.  We  are  bitt 
lines  written  into  the  history  of  things,  without  any  thought  of 
good  or  ill  to  us.  All  things  are  ordered  in  a  grim  fate,  raid  nothing 
wo  can  do  v/ill  alter  it  in  the  least : 

The  Moving  Finger  writes;  and,  having  writ, 
Moves  on:  nor  all  thy  Piety  nor  Wit  ^ 

Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  thy  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it. 

None  of  the  questions  we  so  eagerly  ask  about  ourselves  and  the 
world  can  be  answered.  We  do  not  know  whence  we  come  nor 
v.-hithcr  we  go.  All  is  darkness,  and  the  un.iverse  is  deaf  to  all 
<'ur  ^ries : 

Into  this  Universe,  and  ichy  not  knowing, 
Nor  ichcnce,  like  Water  willy-nilly  flowing: 
And  out  of  it,  as  Yv'ind  along  the  Waste. 
I  know  not  ichither,  willy-nilly  blowing. 

ilravcn  refuses  to  give  us  any  knowledge  of  life,  and  leaves  us 
wandering  in  the  dark,  seeking  rest  and  finding  none.  Ko  guidance 
will  be  given  us,  and  all  our  requests  are  refused,  and  the  replies 
'^f^rvo  only  to  mock  us.  Even  heaven  itself  is  not  guided  by  intel- 
ligf^ncobut  by  fate: 


86  Methodist  Be  view  [January 

Then  to  the  rolling  Heaven  itself  I  cried, 
Asking,  "What  Lamp  had  Destiny  to  guide 
Her  little  Children  stumbling  in  the  Dark?" 
And — "A  blind  Understanding!"  Heaven  replied. 

Tbe  only  answer  to  the  mind's  questions,  and  hence  the  only  satis- 
faction, conies  from  enjo}'nient.  There  is  no  answer  but  the  wine- 
cup: 

Then  to  this  earthen  Bowl  did  I  adjourn 
My  Lip  the  secret  Well  of  Life  to  learn: 
And  Lip  to  Lip  it  murmur'dr-"While  you  live 
Drink! — for,  once  dead,  you  never  shall  return." 

At  last,  unable  to  soh-e  the  enigmas  of  life  even  in  the  winecup, 
and  still  unable  to  give  up  the  effort,  Omar  boldly  charges  fate 
with  the  evils  of  life,  and  rising  in  the  pride  of  independence  makes 
"the  tremendous  assumption  of  equal  rights  between  man  and 
God,"  and  proclaims  himself  ready  to  exchange  forgiveness  with 
God,  in  "these  words  of  unsurpassed  audacity"  : 

Oh,  Thou,  who  Man  of  baser  Earth  didst  make, 
And  who  with  Eden  didst  devise  the  Snake; 
For  all  the  Sin  wherewith  the  Face  of  Man 
^         Is  blacken'd,  Man's  Forgiveness  give — and  take! 

This  sort  of  human  imi)ertinence  was  the  very  antithesis  of  Brown- 
ing's attitude.  The  .doubts  inevitable  to  a  thinking  beirig  are  not 
to  be  drowned  in  pleasure,  but  to  be  cherished  as  opening  out  to 
intelligence  the  largeness  of  life  and  its  possibilities.  It  is  a  mark 
of  high  and  noble  origin  and  destiny  that  we  are  able  to  doubt 
(that  is,  to  think),  and  shows  that  we  belong  among  the  infinities: 

Rather  I  prize  the  doubt 
Low  kinds  exist  without, 

Finished  and  finite  clods,  untroubled  by  a  spark. 

Doubt  is  a  spark  of  the  infinite  light,  and  shows  we  are  more 
allied  to  God  than  to  the  brutes.  Man  is  at  once  infinite  and  finite, 
and  the  higher  is  ever  calling  to  the  loAvcr,  and  ever  trying  to  take 
it  up  into  itself  and  give  it  the  fullness  of  the  perfect : 

Rejoice  we  are  allied 

To  That  which  doth  provide 
.     And  not  partake,  effect  and  not  receive! 

A  spark  disturbs  our  clod; 

Nearer  we  hold  of  God 
Who  gives  than  of  His  tribes  that  take,  I  must  believe. 


I«jl0]     •  Browning  and  Omar  KJiayydni  87 

The  temptations  of  life  assail  tbe  believer  no  less  than  the  steptic; 
l>ut  his  faith  helps  him  to  surmount  them,  and  the  conquest  but 
confirms  his  faith.  He,  too,  has  had  questions  to  aslc,  but  he  has 
not  waited  to  live  till  he  could  find  an  answer.  He  nobly  took  up 
the  tasks  of  life,  and  even  in  those  ideals  only  partly  realized  he 
has  found  the  answer  to  his  doubts,  and  the  promise  of  still  larger 

life: 

For  thence — a  paradox 

Which  comforts  while  it  mocks — 

Shall  life  succeed  in  that  it  seems  to  fail: 
What  I  aspired  to  be, 
And  was  not,  comforts  me: 

A  brute  I  might  have  been,  but  would  not  sink  i'  the  scale. 

Both  Omar  and  the  Rabbi  recognize  the  Power  displayed  in  the 
universe,  and  petition  that  Power  to  reveal  itself  more  fully. 
Omar,  waiting  for  an  answer,  feels  impelled  at  last  to  doubt  its 
beneficence  and  betakes  himself  to  the  pleasures  of  life.  The 
Kabbi,  equally  anxious  to  know  the  nature  of  all  things,  boldly  and 
hopefully  takes  up  the  tasks  of  life,  and  taking  his  part  in  the 
great  plan  of  things  comes  to  see  the  design  of  the  whole  and  to 
realize  that  Love  is  the  ruling  Power : 

Not  once  beat^  "Praise  be  Thine! 
I  see  the  whole  design, 

I,  who  saw  Power,  see  now  Love  perfect  too: 
Perfect,  I  call  Thy  plan: 
Thanks  that  I  was  a  man! 

Maker,  remake,  complete — I  trust  what  Thou  shalt  do!" 

i  liis  is  one  of  Browning's  favorite  conceptions,  that  through 
knowing  God  first  as  Power  we  come  to  know  him  as  Love.  It 
'►ccurs  especially  in  "An  Epistle  of  Karshish,"  where  Karshish 
trusts  in  the  midst  of  doubts  that  "The  All-Great  is  the  All-Loving 
'•><>,'  and  in  "Christmas  Eve,"  where  Browning,  speaking  probably 
Ju  liis  own  person,  says  he  looked  to  the  skies  and  "found  God 
'here,  his  visible  power,"  and  "an  equal  evidence  that  his  love, 
there  too,  was  the  nobler  dower."  It  is  not  the  part  of  wisdom  to 
'onceive  God  as  arbitrary  fate.  He  has  large  plans  for  us,  which 
\ve  may  not  know  in  their  entirety  but  which  give  every  evidence 
<^f  Wing  beneflcont.    It  is  only 


88  Methodist  Review  [Januarj 

fools  propound. 
When  the  wine  makes  its  round, 
Since  life  fleets  all  is  change;  the  Past  gone,  seize  to-day. 

The  real  purpose  of  life  is  education,  training,  shaping  for  larger 
divine  uses.  And  God  is  the  Potter  who,  though  lie  puts  the  vessel 
on  the  wheel  and  into  the  fire,  is  shaping  it  for  its  own  good  and 
for  his  highest  glory : 

He  fixed  thee  'mid  this  dance 
Of  plastic  circumstance. 

This  Present,  thou,  forsooth,  wouldst  fain  arrest: 
Machinery  just  meant 
To  give  thy  soul  its  bent, 

Try  thee,  and  turn  thee  forth  sufficiently  impressed. 

The  purposes  of  life,  then,  are  seen  to  he  spiritual;  not,  as  Omar 
thought,  merely  sensuous;  and  the  development  toward  old  age 
shows  the  Eahhi  to  be  right.  Omar  shows  disappointment  with 
life.  It  has  not  brought  him  M-hat  he  looked  for,  because  he 
looked  for  the  wrong  thing.  Xow'  when  he  has  followed  his  ideal 
through  to  old  age  he  sees  it  has  been  a  false  light,  and  has  left  only 
darkness  within.  Could  anything  be  more  melancholy  than  his 
own  confession  of  a  wasted  life  as  he  thinks  of  the  end  of  his  days 
and  his  ashes  in  the  earth  ? 

Indeed  the  Idols  I  have  loved  so  long 
Have  done  my  Credit  in  Men's  Eye  much  wrong: 
Have  drown'd  my  Honour  in  a  shallow  Cup, 
And  sold  my  Reputation  for  a  Song. 

To  the  Eabbi,  on  the  other  hand,  old  age  brings  the  flower  and  the 
fruit  of  a  good  life.  With  a  spiritual  ideal  old  age  is  better  than 
youth.  Youth  is  full  of  doubt  and  indecision  ;  old  age  hag  maturity, 
and  brings  a  richness  and  fullness  of  joy  possible  only  after  the 
stress  of  life.  Youth  guesses,  thinks,  hopes,  while  old  age  knows, 
and  knowledge  brings  satisfaction.  This  all  leads  the  soul  to  rev- 
erent humility.  There  is  ''no  quarrel  with  fate,"  f(5r  old  age  has 
brought  all  that  youth  promised.  And  Browning  closes  the  words 
of  the  llabbi  with  that  wonderful  prayer,  which  has  been  called 
"the  exultant  recognition  of  the  healthy  soul  that  labor  and  striv- 
ing arc  not  merely  endurable  but  joyous,  provided  the  mental  and 
moral  system  is  unimpaired  by  disease": 


I'.)]0]  Bioifiiiufj  and  Omar  Klinijydm  89 

So,  tako  and  use  Thy  work; 
Amend  v.hat  flaws  may  lurk, 

"What  strain  o'  the  stuff,  what  warpings  past  the  aim! 
My  times  be  in  Thy  hand! 
Terfect  the  cup  as  planned! 

Let  age  approve  of  youth,  and  death  complete  the  same! 

"Kabbi  Ben  Ezra"  has  been  well  called  "the  noblest  of  modern 
r.'lin;i()us  poems,"  and  presents  "one  of  the  most  splendid  j)ictures 
«.f  tin-  worth  of  life  known  to  litcralnre.'"'  When  Browning  wrote 
it  he  had  but  recently  buried  his  wife,  and  was  still  a  comparatively 
young  uian,  being  fifty-two  years  old.  He  was  beginning  to  look 
toward  old  age,  deprived  of  his  greatest  earthly  joy,  and  yet  calm 
in  the  consciousness  of  divine  love.  lie  believed  that  a  youth 
lived  in  accordance  with  the  divine  plan  will  result  in  an  ever- 
ri])eniug  and  ever  more-satisfying  old  age.  As  old  age  approaches 
Omar  Khayyam  has  no  prospect  but  darkness,  and  his  mind  is 
still  full  of  doubts  and  fears.  The  life  of  pleasure  yields  no  firm 
In-liefs,  and  no  assurances  that  all  is  well.  All  his  philoso]ihy  has 
not  helped  either  him  or  his  fellows  in  the  battle  of  life,  and  has 
not  contributed  to  the  solution  of  its  mysteries.  He  has  only 
turned  his  doubts  into  a  body  of  beautiful  jioetry,  giving  them  more 
iliguity  and  more  appearance  of  truth  than  their  inner  worth 
would  warrant.  He  has  stated  the  hedonist's  argument  cunningly 
but  not  convincingly  either  to  himself  or  others,  and  has  shown 
only  its  impossibility  as  a  life  ideal.  But  Browning  has  outlined 
in  opposition  an  ideal  more  attractive,  and  including  not  only 
(•hasure  but  all  other  elements  that  go  to  make  up  the  perfect  man. 
^\  hile  not  ignoring  the  interests  of  the  flesh,  Bro\\aiing  recognizes 
the  sj)iritual  as  the  essential  man.  He  therefore  chooses  duty 
r^ither  than  pleasure.  "A  brute  I  might  have  been,  but  would  not 
f'JTik  i'  the  scale."  Omar's  poem  contrives  to  live  because  of  its 
IK)otic  beauty,  Browning's  because  of  its  beauty  and  its  truth. 


<=So&> 


^^lai^^f^Oj^^-^  . 


90  Meiliodist  Bevieiu  [January 


Art.    VII.— the   PKACTICE   OF   RO^^IAX   COURTS   AS 
SEEX  IX  THE  PROSECUTIOX  OF  VEKRES 
The  relationship  between  the  ancient  Roman  and  the  modern 
Anglo-Saxon    civil   law,    and   the   historical   development   of   the 
latter  from  the  former,  is  a  subject  no  less  interesting  tlian  in- 
structive.    In  many  points  our  law  is  only  an  English  copy  of  the 
Roman.     In  other  points  there  is  a  wider  difference ;  sometimes  in 
the  intent,  but  often  only  in  form.     The  Roman  method  of  pro- 
cedure in  the  prosecution  for  a  state  offense  seems  strange  to  us. 
They  had  no  oflicer  whose  duty  it  was  to  act  as  prosecutor  repre- 
senting the  state  in  the  trial  of  those  charged  witli  having  violated 
the  jus  publicum.     Any  citizen  could  bring  an  accusation,  which 
was  called  a  postuJatio.     The  prjctor  to  whom  the  accusation  was 
brought  entered  the  name  of  the  accused, '  which  act  was  called 
nominis  receplio,  and  set  the  date  of  the  trial.     Then  the  actor, 
prosecutor,  j)rcpared  the  necessary  papers,  which  he  and  his  as- 
sociate, suhsc'riptor,  if  he  had  one,  signed.     But  it  sometimes  hap- 
pened that  two  or  more  persons  demanded  the  privilege  of  conduct- 
ing the  same  case.     The  trial  Avould  be  a  foreordained  farce  if  the 
defendant  were  allowed  the  undisputed  privilege  of  appointing  his 
own  prosecutor.     On  the  other  hand,  if  the  selection  made  by  the 
parties  claiming  to  have  been  injured  were  to  be  accepted  without 
question,  the  interests  of  the  state  would  often  suffer  from  weak  or 
selfish  management.     It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  when  there 
was  but  one  demanding  the  right  of  prosecution  he  was  fairly  sat- 
isfactory to  both  the  accusers  and  the  accused,  otherwise  some  one 
else  would  have  been  induced  to  contest  with  him.     But  when  two 
or  more  did  appear  with  posiulationes  it  was  both  wise  and  nec- 
essary that  tlic  state  should  decide  which  applicant  for  the  place 
should  be  recognized.    This  was  the  first  duty  of  the  judges  before 
whom  the  case  was  to  be  tried.    One  was  to  be  appointed  actor  and 
the  other  dismissed,  or  the  one  might  be  appointed  the  actor  prin- 
ceps  and  the  other  liis  suhscriptor.     Even  two  or  three  might  Ik? 
appointed  to  this  subordinate  position.     Such  a  selection  of  the 
actor  was  called  a  divinatio — a  name  applied  alike  to  the  proceed- 


1910]  The  Practice  of  Boinan  Courts  91 

ini!;  and  to  the  speech  employed  in  it.  Various  explanations  have 
been  offered  for  the  meaning  and  origin  of  this  distinctive  name. 
Asoonius  in  his  arginnent  mentions  three: 

"This  speech  is  called  a  divinatio,  since  inquiry  is  made  not 
concerning  fact  or  inference  hut  concerning  what  is  to  be,  which 
is  a  divinaiio,  Avhich  one  ought  to  prosecute." 

''Some  think  that  it  is  called  a  divinaiio  for  this  reason ;  be- 
cause in  this  case  the  judges  sit  without  being  sworn,  in  order  that 
tlicy  may  inform  themselves  as  they  wish  beforeliand  concerning 
each  one." 

"Others  think  it  is  because  the  affair  is  conducted  without 
witnesses  and  tablets,  and,  these  not  being  presented,  the  judges 
follow  argmnents  alone  as  if  they  were  divining." 

Gellius  quotes  Gavins  Bassius  as  saying  that  it  is  called  a 
divinaiio  of  the  judges  inasmuch  as  the  judge  must  divine,  as  it 
were,  what  decision  it  is  right  for  him  to  render.  Continuing, 
Gellius  offers  another  explanation:  "The  terms  'accuser'  and  'ac- 
cused' are  relative  and  neither  can  exist  without  the  other.  Never- 
theless, in  this  kind  of  a  case,  there  is  an  accused  but  as  yet  no 
accuser.  Because  the  accuser  is  not  yet  apparent  a  divination 
must  show  who  the  accuser  shall  be."  Although  we  have  not  in- 
frequent references  in  literature  to  divinationes,  yet  there  is  but 
one  extant  representative  of  this  class  of  orations,  the  one  in  which 
Cicero  demanded  the  right  to  prosecute  the  notorious  Verres. 

Gains  Verres,  famous  for  his  infamy,  was  born  B.  C.  112. 
His  father,  C.  Verres,  was  a  man  sufficiently  weak  or  villainous,  or 
botli,  to  be  in  favor  with  Sulla,  who  made  him  a  senator.  We  do 
not  know  his  gentile  name,  if  indeed  he  had  one.  Many  have 
thought  that  it  was  Cornelius,  supposing  that  he  belonged  to  some 
obscure  branch  of  that  gens,  or  that  he  had  been  adopted  into  it, 
or  that  he  had  received  that  name  by  being  made  a  freedman  by 
Sulla.  We  know  that  on  Sulla's  return  from  Greece,  in  B.  C.  83, 
he  had  made  great  additions  to  the  Cornelian  gens  by  emancipa- 
tion, so  that  it  became  the  most  numerous  at  that  particular  time. 
But  this  is  far  from  sufficient  ground  for  presuming  that  Verres 
was  a  Cornelian.  Some  have  thought  that  Verres  was  a  relative 
*"^f  L.    Ca^cilius   Metellus,    his    successor   in    Sicily,    basing   their 


92  MetJiodisl  Review  [January 

opinion  on  In  Verr.  11.  2.  20,  5G,  Avhere  such  a  claim  is  made,  but 
in  a  form  that  carries  no  conviction  with  it.  Thougli  we  may  be 
uncertain  as  to  his  exact  name  and  family,  we  have  abundant  ev- 
idence of  the  most  unfortunate  fact  that  he  was  born.  By  the 
time  he  was  thirty  years  old,  B.  C.  S2,  he  had  joined  his  fortunes 
with  those  of  the  democratic  party,  for  he  was  a  qua'stor  of  Cn. 
Papirius  Carbo  in  Cisalpine  Gaul.  Verres  betrayed  this  consul 
and  his  public  trust,  and  was  rewarded  for  his  infamy  by  Sulla, 
who  gave  him  some  land  of  the  proscribed  at  Beneventum,  and 
probably  used  his  influeuce  in  Verres's  favor  when  the  quoostores 
cerarii  threatened  prosecution  for  the  moneys  embezzled. 

Verres  took  an  active  part  in  Sulla's  proscription.  In  B.  C. 
SO  he  was  in  Asia  as  legatus  of  Dolabella,  governor  of  Cicilia,  and 
later  became  his  prcquo'sior.  These  two  congenial  spirits  united  in 
plundering  the  province.  Here  it  was  that  Verres  acquired  a 
fancy  for  fine  art  which  afterward  led  to  most  outrageous  crimes. 
It  was  probably  the  wealili  that  he  stole  in  Cicilia  that  enabled  him 
to  purchase  the  prcetorshi])  in  B.  C.  f4.  After  the  pretense  of  an 
election  he  was  designated  by  lot  the  Pra3tor  Urbanus.  And  so  it 
came  to  pass  that  Verres,  noted  only  for  his  dishonesty,  rapacity, 
and  infidelity,  an  igiioble  noble,  a  thriving  treasurer,  a  turncoat 
politician,  a  traitor' to  his  friends,  the  slave  of  a  mistress,  became 
the  curator  of  public  buildings,  the  presiding  magistrate  within 
the  bounds  of  the  pomerium,  the  chief  judge  in  equity  and  the 
guardian  of  orphans.  His  administration  of  his  office  and  its 
sacred  trusts  was  just  such  as  was  to  be  expected.  Official  duties 
that  should  have  received  his  personal  attention  were  done,  or  per- 
haps undone  by  his  tools.  Justice  and  injustice  were  alike  bought 
from  himself  or  his  mistress.  After  his  city  prretorship  he  ob- 
tained, in  B.  C.  73,  the  object  of  his  gi-eatest  desire — Sicily, 
Rome's  most  important  and  wealthiest  province.  Up  to  that  time 
it  had  been  governed  more  leniently  than  other  provinces,  and  had 
been  favored  in  taxation.  Even  the  Greek  inhabitants  were  pros- 
perous, and  considered  that  they  had  gained  rather  than  lost  by 
the  Roman  conquest.  But,  great  as  was  the  accumulated  wealth  of 
the  island,  it  was  too  small  to  satisfy  the  avarice  of  the  robber. 
He  used  cverv  conceivable  means  for  enriching  himself  at   tlic 


;1.)10]  77ze  Practice  of  Bouian  Coxuis  93 

o.\po!ise  of  tlie  inhabitants.  lie  levied  exorbitant  taxes,  disre- 
.'arJed  contract?,  plundered  private  dwellings  and  public  temples. 
He  possessed  himself  of  their  Grecian  art  treasures,  which  the 
Sicilians  regarded  as  their  most  precious  possessions.  Xo  class 
f>cnped  outrage  and  insult,  not  even  those  enjoying  the  Rom.an 
fitizcnship.  One  such  was  even  scourged  at  ]Messana  on  an  un- 
proved charge.  Quiutus  Arrius,  who  was  to  have  succeeded  Verres 
in  (he  province,  was  detained  in  Italy  by  the  uprising  led  by 
Sj)articus  and  never  entered  upon  the  duties  or  opportunities  of  the 
jjroprii'torship.  I^ot  until  the  end  of  the  third  year  of  his  misrule 
was  Verres  relieved  by  Lucius  Ca}cilius  Mctcllus.  These  three 
years  were  diligently  employed  in  extortion  and  plundering,  until 
lie  had  collected  at  ^Messana,  which  had  the  unenviable  reputation 
of  being  made  his  depot  for  plunder,  much  of  the  wealth  of  Sicily 
and  many  of  the  niost  valuable  works  of  art.  Xeither  the  Punic 
war  nor  the  two  recent  Servile  wars  had  been  so  ruinous  to  the 
island  as  the  lawless  oppression  of  this  official  and  his  friends. 
T^ut  lie  had  accomplished  his  purpose.  "When  he  returned  to  Eome, 
in  E,  C.  70,  he  carried  back  such  a  hoard  of  wealth  that  he  could 
easily  part  with  two  thirds  of  it  to  bribe  his  judges  and  still  have 
cjKiugh  to  enable  him  to  live  in  luxury  the  rest  of  his  life.  His 
ex))ectations  of  a  prosecution  were  not  disappointed.  After  his 
departure  from  the  province  all  Sicily,  except  Messana  and  Sy7-a- 
cuse,  united  in  asking  satisfaction  for  the  wrongs  they  had  suf- 
fered. The  Alamertines  were  so  favorable  that  they  even  sent  an 
enihassy  to  Rome  to  praise  the  robber  who  had  made  their  city  his 
f^toroliouse  for  plunder.  Probably  the  Leontini  sent  no  public 
delegation,  but,  excepting  these,  all  the  Sicilians  united  in  calling 
i:pou  Cicero  and  earnestly  urging  him  to  undertake  in  their  be- 
lialf  the  prosecution  of  Verres. 

The  law  recpiired  that  such  a  case  must  be  presented  for  them 
'>y  a  Koinan  citizen.  The  Sicilians  would  naturally  have  called  for 
upsistancc  upon  their  old  patrons,  the  Scipios,  Marcelli,  and  ]\Ie- 
ulli,  but  they  doubtless  had  reasons  for  expecting  but  little  real 
ni'lp  from  them.  Indeed,  we  have  evidence  that  Publius  Scipio, 
Marcus  Quintus,  and  Lucius  Metellus  supported  the  cause  of 
>  errcs.    The  Sicilians  passed  by  tlieir  old  patrons  and  appealed  to 


94  Mciliodisl  Jleview  [Januai-v 

Cicero.  Under  the  propraior  Scxtiis  Peducneus,  five  years  before, 
lie  had  been  qucostor  iu  the  district  of  Lilyba?inn  and  had  thor- 
ouglily  won  their  confidence  by  his  honorable  administration.  He 
had,  quite  likely,  been  declared  their  hospcs  puhlicus.  On  leaving 
them  in  B.  C.  7-i  he  had  promised  to  aid  them  if  they  should  ever 
need  his  assistance.  He  was  willing  and,  we  can  believe,  even 
anxious  to  fulfill  his  promise.  He  could  not  but  sec  that  it  would 
be  an  excellent  opportunity  to  distinguish  himself.  -He  would  be 
pleading  the  cause  of  evident  justice.  He  would  l>e  on  the  side  to 
win  the  favor  of  the  people,  whose  good  will  he  desired,-  as  he  was 
a  candidate  for  election  in  a  short  time.  He  would  also  have 
a  chance  to  measure  strength  with  Hortensius,  who  up  to  that  time 
had  been  lord  of  the  courts.  The  case  was  so  strong  that  if  he 
should  not  succeed,  it  would  be  plain  to  all  that  his  failure  was 
owing  to  the  corruption  of  the  court.  If  he  should  succeed,  it 
would  be  a  great  triumph  over  the  most  powerful  and  violent  op- 
position. 

Though  the  Sicilians  desired  Cicero  to  underlake  their  case, 
and  he  was  willing,  there  was  no  certainty  that  he  would  be 
permitted  to  do  so.  Verres  had  expected  that  his  victims  would 
make  some  efi^ort  to  obtain  satisfaction  for  their  wrongs,  but  he 
felt  secure  in  the  support  of  the  nobles  and  in  Hortensius,  the 
rex  judicorum.  Yet,  with  such  friends,  and  with  the  influence  of 
the  great  wealth  in  his  possession,  Verres  was  anxious  that  the 
able,  bold,  and  tireless  Cicero  should  not  have  charge  of  his  pros- 
ecution. Accordingly,  as  soon  as  the  provincials  presented  their 
charge,  Avith  Cicero  as  their  actor,  Verres  had  Quintus  Ca;cilius, 
an  insignificant  Sicilian  enjoying  Koman  citizenship,  come  for- 
ward to  demand  the  right  of  prosecuting  instead  of  Cicero,  or,  at 
least,  in  conjunction  with  him.  If  C^ecilius  were  appointed  pros- 
ecutor, Verres  would  practically  have  charge  of  his  own  prosecu- 
tion and  it  would  be  unnecessary  to  say  what  the  result  of  the 
trial  would  be.  It  was  to  prevent  just  such  mismanagement  of 
eases  involving  the  public  interests  that  the  state  reserved  the  right 
of  appointing  the  prosecutor.  Since  both  Cicero  and  Quintus 
Ca?cilius  Xiger  appeared  for  the  prosecution,  it  was  necessary  for 
the  court  first  to  hear  and  decide  upon  their  claims.     Each  man 


"1910]  The  Practice  of  Boman  Courts  95 

wns  pcrniitted  to  show  why  lie  should  be  selected  rather  than  the 
otlior.  The  purpose  of  the  divinatio  was  only  the  selection  of 
the  state's  attorney.  In  this  first  process  the  merits  of  the  indict- 
mont  were  not  in  any  way  to  be  considered.  We  have  not  Csecil- 
ius's  speech.  We  can  only  judge  w^hat  his  arguments  would  be. 
Cicero  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  he  presented  his  case  with  great 
rare  and  showed  conclusively  that  Ca^cilius  was  unfit  for  the  task. 
The  speech  was  a  masterly  one,  presented  in  the  following  form: 
The  Introduction. 

Cicero's  reasons  for  undertaking  the  case. 
The  Argimient. 

The  wishes  of  the  interested  parties: 

The  Sicilians  desire  Cicero  and  refuse  Csecilius. 
Verres  fears  Cicero  and  desires  Csecilius. 
Ca^cilius's  unfitness : 
His  lack  of  integTity. 
His  lack  of  ability. 
His  lack  of  motive. 
His  having  been  Verres's  qusestor. 
Conclusion. 

The  court  approved  of  the  choice  of  the  Sicilians,  and  Cicero 
was  allowed  to  prosecute  Verres.  Csecilius  was  not  permitted  to 
Iki'  even  an  associate  in  the  case,  as  he  was  anxious  to  be  if  he  could 
not  have  the  sole  charge.  This  w^as  the  immediate  result  of  the 
trial ;  but  it  was  only  the  first  in  a  chain  of  events  no  part  of  which 
can  be  omitted  in  giving  the  historical  bearings  of  this  speech  and 
tliose  against  Verres. 

Cicero  asked  of  the  pra?tor,  and  was  granted,  a  stay  of  pro- 
ciM^dings  for  one  hundred  and  ten  days  to  give  him  time  to  collect 
fvidence  and  prepare  his  case.  ISTothing  could  have  pleased  Verres 
better,  unless  it  had  been  a  longer  adjournment.  As  affairs  then 
M.)0(1  the  Pra?tor  Urbanus  and  president  of  the  court  was  Manius 
A«.-ilius  Glabrio,  a  man  of  integrity  and  therefore  one  to  be  hated 
aji<l  feared  by  Verres.  The  next  year  he  was  to  be  succeeded  in 
••ftiee  and  power  by  Marcus  Caecilius  Metellus;  and  his  brother, 
Qninlus  Cix-cilius  Metellus,  together  with  Ilortensius,  would  be 
Consuls.     Verres  had  good  reasons  for  confidence  that  with  these 


96        -  Methodist  Review  [January 

three  fast  friends  holding  tlie  tliree  highest  offices  of  influence  liis 
indictment  would  he  dismissed,  or  at  least  the  prosecution  ^vould 
be  caused  to  fail.  Consequently,  he  did  not  wish  nor  intend  that 
the  case  should  be  settled  that  year.  Cicero  had  obtained,  as  has 
been  said,  one  huTidred  and  ten  days  in  which  to  prepare  his  case. 
Verres  put  forward  a  false  prosecutor  to  occupy  the  attention  of 
the  court,  who  claimed  the  right  to  deinand  satisfaction  for  wrongs 
done  in  Acha?a.  Who  he  was  or  whom  lie  was  to  prosecute  is  un- 
certain. It  matters  not  who  tlie  man  was,  nor  what  his  charge 
was,  nor  against  whom  it  was  directed.  The  manifest  purpose  of 
the  move  was  to  have  another  case  called  before  Cicero  could  begin 
his  suit.  Thereby  the  prosecution  that  Verres  feared  could  not  be 
taken  up  before  a  disposition  should  be  made  of  the  first.  To  this 
end,  the  false  prosecutor  asked  and  obtained  one  hundred  and 
eight  days  for  the  preparation  of  his  case  in  Acha?a.  This  would 
permit  him  to  enter  court  before  the  one  hundred  and  ten  of 
Cicero  expired.  So  long  a  delay  would  be  very  encouraging  to 
Verres.  It  would  then  be  late  in  the  year,  and  the  few  remaining 
months  were  crowded  with  festivals  and  games,  during  which  the 
courts  could  not  sit.-  The  games  vowed  by  Pompey  for  the  for- 
tunate termination  of  the  war  with  Sertorius  were  to  occupy  the 
last  half  of  the  month  of  August,  from  the  fifteenth  to  the  twenty- 
ninth  inclusive.  They  were  to  be  followed  by  the  Ludi  Romani, 
September  fourth  to  thirteenth ;  and  the  Ludi  Komani  in  Circo, 
September  sixteenth  to  nineteenth.  The  Ludi  Victoriae  of  five 
days'  duration  were  to  begin  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  October, 
and  the  Ludi  Plebeii  continued  from  the  fourth  to  the  seventeenth 
of  November.  So  it  will  be  readily  seen  that  a  little  quibbling  and 
delay  would  throw  the  case  over  until  the  next  year,  when  Verres's 
f]-icnds  would  be  in  full  power  and  the  case  would  be  taken  up 
anew  only  to  acquit  him.  Cicero  anticipated  this  move.  With  his 
cousin  Lucius,  who  was  his  suhscriptor,  he  hastened  to  Sicily.  He 
traversed  the  entire  length  of  the  island  and  with  the  greatest 
diligence  collected  a  crushing  weight  of  documentary  evidence  and 
returned  to  Home  in  about  fifty  days  fully  prepared  for  the 
prosecution  and  accompanied  by  many  witnesses.  The  false  pros- 
ecutor on  the  Achaean  charge  had  not  gone  as  far  as  Brundisium. 


jyUji  2'he  Practice  of  lionmn  Courts  97 

Tlit'  wav  was  open  for  Cicero  to  begin  his  case.  Having  all  con- 
liiK-iKV  in  Glabrio,  the  Praetor  Urhanus,  and  having  been  fortunate 
ill  drawing  and  challenging  the  jury,  Cicero  saw  that  he  had  a 
favoral^le  opportunity  and  was  determined  not  to  let  the  criminal 
r><"ai>c  from  his  grasp. 

The  court  sat  in  the  temple  of  Castor,  a  building  the  verj 
hi^lit  of  which  would  have  made  Verres  weak  had  he  been  capable 
of  fooling  shame  for  wrongs  committed.  Curiosity  and  interest 
furro'.iTidcd  the  court  by  great  multitudes  that  thronged  the  por- 
ticos of  the  temple,  the  colonnade,  the  forum,  and  the  housetops 
overlooking  the  scene.  The  people  were  there.  The  senators  and 
knights  were  there,  deeply  interested  in  the  result  of  the  trial 
l.-.'oausc  of  the  effect  it  would  have  on  the  Lex  Aurelia,  which  was 
I'cing  agitated  at  that  time.  AYitnesses  alone  formed  a  great 
crowd,  for  many  came  from  all  Sicily,  from  Greece  and  Asia,  and 
l)ic  islands  of  the  Mediterranean.  Every  region  that  had  been 
<Mir.-cd  by  Yerres's  blighting  presence  had  its  representative  in  that 
determined  multitude  of  ruined  merchants,  impoverished  orphans, 
and  M'idowed  wives.  One  villain  was  held  to  accoimt  for  number- 
less injuries.  The  senatorial  order  was  indicted  for  the  corrupt 
administration  of  the  courts.  The  Roman  system  of  provincial 
govennncnt,  and  through  it  Rome  herself,  was  on  trial  that  day. 
Cicero  "saw  and  knew  the  flood  of  the  tide.  He  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity, and  pressed  the  case  with  wonderful  vigor.  lie  opened  the 
trial  with  a  short  and  effective  statement.  His  points  were  well 
Hr.])ported  by  documents  and  witnesses.  At  first  Hortensius  at- 
tonij/ted  to  oppose  the  overwhelming  pressure  of  Cicero's  masterly 
l)re.--cntation  of  his  case.  Soon,  seeing  the  inevitable  result,  he 
pave  up  all  resistance,  no  longer  making  use  even  of  his  right  to 
cross-examine  the  witnesses.  Xine  days  were  allowed  the  pros- 
ecution for  presenting  their  case  and  examining  witnesses.  At  the 
c-nd  of  the  third  day  Yerres  fled  to  ^Marseilles,  where  he  lived  in 
luxury  until  he  fell  by  the  proscription  of  the  Triumviri  in  B.  C. 
4."{.  He  was  convicted,  ordered  to  make  restitution,  and  exiled. 
At  least  the  policy  of  integrity  was  once  more  recognized  by 
Iiome's  corrupt  politicians  and  demagogues.  Cicero  was  hence- 
f'Tth  acknowledged  to  be  the  leading  orator  of  the  city. 


98  Methodisl  lieview  [January 

Vcrrcs  had  been  accused  of  the  crimen-  repeiundarurn  pe- 
cuniarum,  a  charge  that  at  the  time  of  this  trial  included  among 
other  offenses  an  official's  illegal  acquisition  of  the  money  or  prop- 
erty of  tlie  subjects  or  allies  of  Rome.  The  immediate  object  of 
the  prosecution  was  the  recovery  of  that  which  had  been  lost; 
hence  its  name,  repetundcc  pecunice.  Although  individuals  were 
generally  the  parties  that  suffered  directly,  yet  the  crime  in  a  most 
dangerous  manner  threatened  the  interests  of  the  state.  This  was 
therefore  held  in  law  to  be  a  crimen  publicum.  The  case  was  tried 
nnder  the  Lex  Cornelia.  We  cannot  be  positively  certain  of  the 
penalty  fixed  by  this  law.  The  Lex  Servilia,  whoso  provisions  the 
IjCX  Cornelia  in  most  cases  adopted,  required  the  restoration  of 
twice  the  amount  wrongfully  obtained.  This  provision  was  after- 
ward doubled.  It  is  probable  that  the  Lex  Cornelia  required  the 
guilty  one  to  restore  two  and  a  half  times  the  amount  taken,  for 
in  the  Divinaiio,  19,  the  Sicilians  claimed,  by  virtue  of  the  law,  a 
million  sesterces,  but  in  the  oration  In  Vcrr.  I.  1,  5C,  and  in  II.  1, 
27,  they  claimed  that  he  had  robbed  them  of  four  hundred  thou- 
sand. The  Lex  Servilia  did  not  require  banishment,  but  it  is 
likely  that  this  element  was  added  to  the  Cornelian  law.  At  an 
earlier  time,  B.  C.  103,  at  least  one  man,  Publius  Rutilius,  was 
exiled  for  this  offense. 

The  case  was  tried  in  the  Quccsiio  Dc  Bepciundis.  The  con- 
stitution of  the  Roman  courts  was  subject  to  frequent  changes. 
Up  to  the  second  centiiry  before  Christ  the  Senate  was  coordinate 
with  the  assembly  of  the  people  in  the  exercise  of  the  judicial 
function.  It  could  examine  and  render  judgment  or  empower 
others  to  act  as  judges.  It  could  authorize  the  Tribuui  Plebis  to 
prosecute  the  accused  before  the  Comitia  Tributa,  or  it  could  have 
recuperatores  appointed  from  its  own  n\nnber  to  assess  damages. 
These  means  being  found  unsatisfactory,  the  Lex  Calpuruia,  B.  C. 
149,  established  the  Quceslio  Perpctua  de  Pecuniis  Repeiundis. 
The  name  per  pet  ua  distinguished  it  from  the  other  courts  that  had 
been  called  at  special  times,  for  special  cases,  with  some  man, 
called  quKsitor,  selected  for  the  duty  of  presiding  at  that  particular 
trial.  This  new  court  was  to  continue  as  long  as  the  term  of  the 
officer  whose  duty  it  was  to  preside.     The  cstablislmicut  of  this 


]010]  T^ie  Practice  of  Poman  Courts  99 

lirst  court  of  its  kind  meant  the  loss  of  judicial  power  to  the 
j>eople,  but  they  still  retained  some  of  their  judicial  functions  even 
as  late  as  the  time  of  Cicero,  \vho,  in  the  oration  In  Verr.  II.  5, 
09,  threatens  to  appeal  to  the  people.  Under  the  Lex  Calpurnia 
tlic  court  was  composed  of  senators  and  presided  over  by  the 
Pra?tor  Urbanus.  In  the  seventy  years  following  the  enactment  of 
the  Lex,  Calpurnia  the  constitution  of  the  courts  was  changed  by 
five  different  laws.  The  Lex  Junia  was  of  uncertain  date,  author- 
.ship,  and  contents.  The  senators  abused  their  power  by  shielding 
culprits  of  their  own  class.  The  Lex  Sempronia  ludiciaria,  B.  C. 
122,  took  away  their  authority  and  gave  it  to  the  equites.  The 
Lex  Servilia  Ca?pioni?,  B.  C.  lOG,  gave  the  courts  back  to  the  sen- 
ators. Another  Lex  Servilia  of  uficertain  date  indirectly  restored 
the  equites  by  excluding  the  senators,  with  many  others,  from  the 
bench.  A  Lex  Acilia,  B.  C.  101,  either  preceded  or  followed  the 
Lex  Servilia.  The  Lex  Livia  ludiciaria,  B.  C.  91,  requiring  that 
the  judicial  rights  should  be  shared  by  the  senators  and  the  equites, 
was  passed,  but  declared  invalid  on  account  of  informality  of  enact- 
ment. The  Lex  Plautia,  B.  C.  89,  disregarding  classes,  assigned 
fifteen  judges  to  each  tribe.  When  Sulla  obtained  the  mastery  in 
Rome,  he  wrested  the  courts  from  the  equites,  who  were  then  in 
possession  of  them,  by  means  of  the  Lex  Cornelia,  B.  C.  81,  and 
once  more  placed  them  in  the  control  of  the  senators.  It  was  under 
this  law  that  the  prosecution  of  Verres  took  place.  At  that  time 
there  was  great  dissatisfaction  because  the  senatorial  order  had 
allowed  criminals  of  their  own  class  to  go  unpunished.  Cicero 
warned  them  that  unless  they  rendered  justice,  a  law  would  be 
j)assed  depriving  them  of  their  seats  as  judges.  Such  a  law,  the 
Lex  Aurelia,  was  passed  the  same  year,  requiring  them  to  share 
their  judicial  privileges  with  the  equites  and  the  Tribuni  zErarii, 
It  has  already  been  stated  that  the  president  of  this  court  was 
the  Pra?tor  Urbanus.  He  was  required  by  the  Lex  Servilia,  which 
was  the  basis  of  the  Lex  Cornelia,  to  select  at  the  beginning  of  his 
tcnu  four  hundred  and  fifty  senators  as  judges  and  to  inscribe 
tlicir  names  on  a  tablet,  album  iudicum,  and  put  it  up  in  a  public 
place.  Twenty  days  after  a  complaint  had  been  filed  the  accuser 
and  the  accused  each  chose  one  hundred  from  this  list.    Then  each 


100  Methodist  Fievicvj  [January 

side  had  a  peremptory  challenge  of  fifty,  which  would  reduce  the 
number  by  one  half.  From  the  remaining  hundred  names  there 
was  a  drawing  by  lot  for  the  necessary  number  of  judges  to  serve 
in  the  case.  The  specification  concerning  the  twentieth  day  could 
hardly  have  been  in  the  Lex  Cornelia,  for  on  the  twentieth  day 
after  the  indictment  Cicero  was  hard  at  work  in  Sicily.  Had  he 
delegated  this  most  important  work  and  responsibility  to  anybody 
else,  it  is  quite  likely  that  some  mention  would  have  been  made  of 
the  fact.  ^Yhen  the  final  drawing  took  place,  a  party  not  of  the 
senatorial  order  could  challenge  only  three,  but  one  of  that  rank 
could  challenge  more,  probably  twice  as  many.  ^Ye  know  that 
Verres  in  this  case  rejected  at  least  five,  and  Cicero  one.  The 
number  of  judges  is  fixed  but  is  not  known.  In  several  places 
Cicero  mentions  twelve.  It  could  scarcely  have  been  larger  than 
that  number,  because  after  mentioning  the  pra?tor  and  seven  judges 
he  called  tliem  "almost  the  entire  court."  It  is  possible  that  for- 
eigners resident  in  Eomo  could  conduct  their  own  cases  before  this 
court,  but  perhaps  individual  foreigners  and  subject  peoples  were 
obliged  to  be  represented  by  paironi  or  legati.  A  foreigner  pros- 
ecuting a  Koman  citizen  for  the  crbncii'  repetundarum,  and  secur- 
ing his  conviction,  was  rewarded  by  citizenship.  The  Lex  Ser- 
vilia  directed  that  the  pri-etor  should  select  the  prosecutor.  In  this 
respect  the  Lex  Cornelia  was  probably  changed,  for  this  divinatio 
was  plainly  delivered  to  the  judges. 

The  summer  months  were  assigned  to  the  trials  in  which  the 
provincials  were  interested.  It  was  fortunate  for  them  that  their 
cases  could  be  called  before  the  beginning  of  September,  for  the 
rest  of  the  3'ear  had  little  .time  left  from  games  and  festivals. 
When  one  was  accused  he  was  obliged  to  give  bail.  If  he  went 
into  voluntary  exile  before  judgment  was  rendered  he  had  to  pay 
the  damages  claimed  and  suffer  banishment,  acquce  et  ignis  inter- 
diciio.  It  is  important  to  notice  that  the  Lex  Servilla  provided 
for  a  rehearing  of  the  arguments  on  another  day.  The  exact  na- 
ture of  this  proceeding  is  not  clearly  understood.  Its  purpose 
seems  to  have  been  to  enable  the  judges  to  understand  the  case 
more  accurately.  Cicero  says  that  it  is  favorable  to  the  prosecutor. 
Perhaps  after  the  prosecution  and  the  defense  had  been  repro- 


^ <)]()]  The  Practice  of  lioman  Courts  101 

KMitod,  tliG  court  adjourned,  and  on  a  second  day  tlie  prosecutor 
aiiawcrcd  tlie  first  sjjoech  of  the  defense  and  Avas  himself  a^aiu 
:ui.-;\vcrcd.  Such  a  course  would  be  more  advantageous  for  the 
accuser  than  the  accused.  Before  the  enactment  of  the  Lex  Ser- 
vilia  an  ampliatio  was  allowed;  that  is,  if  two  thirds  of  the  judges 
voted  11071  liquet,  not  plain,  a  new  trial  was  allowed,  but  no  one 
could  cast  that  indecisive  vote  on. the  second  trial.  The  Lex 
Af.'ilia  allowed  neither  adjournment  nor  retrial.  To  secure  secrecy 
niul  independence  for  the  judges  they  were  required  to  vote  by 
hallot.  Cicero  boldly  made  the  charge  that  when  Llortensius  was 
(lolcrjnined  to  know  how- the  judges  voted,  whom  he  had  bribed,  he 
required  them  to  use  peculiar  tablets,  with  which  he  provided 
them,  instead  of  the  legitimate  ones.  After  the  judges  reached  a 
decision  to  sustain  the  accusation  the  litis  ccstimatio  was  made,  the 
penalty  was  fixed. 

As  already  stated,  the  trial  resulted  in  Verres  being  convicted, 
i-rdlcd,  and  condemned  to  make  restitution.  His  name  has  been 
lianded  down  for  centuries,  loaded  with  the  infamy  of  notorious 
ojtpression  and  maladministration  of  office.  We,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  fortunate  in  having  so  complete  a  record  of  his  most  famous 
trial,  which  throws  so  much  light  on  the  law  and  practice  in  the 
Roman  courts. 


sa^'BSS 


fJ-Ui'CCU. 


102  Methodist  Beview  [January 


Aet.  VIII.— STTAKESPEAREAXA 
By  this  term  arc  meant  all  those  facts  and  incidents  pertaining 
to  Shakespeare's  life  and  Avritings  and  inflnencc,  of  less  or  greater 
interest,  expressed  in  written  form  or  current  in  the  shape  of  oral 
tradition,  which  may  serve  to.  throw  any  light  on  this  unique  and 
supreme  author,  or  in  any  way  increase  the  interest  of  the  student 
in  the  examination  of  his  works.  T|ie  number  and  character  of 
these  fugitive  data  are  such  that  entire  libraries  may  be  said  to  be 
made  up  therewith,  as,  also,  separate  lectureships  have  been  es- 
tablished to  collect,  arrange,  and  interpret  them.  These  collec- 
tions and  courses  may  be  found  in  almost  every  university  center, 
so  that  Goethe's  suggestive  phrase,  ''Shakespeare  und  kein  Endc," 
is  fully  illustrated  in  Germany  and  throughout  Europe.  *'Shakes- 
peare  Once  More"  is  found  as  an  essay  among  ]\Ir.  Lowell's  literary 
papers,  and  yet  once  more,  and  yet  again,  will  this  imperial  man 
be  studied.  Ben  Jonson  speaks  of  his  respect  for  him  as  ''some- 
thing this  side  idolatry."  Schlegel,  as  representing  German  crit- 
icism, writes  that  "for  centuries  to  come  his  fame  will  gather 
strength  at  every  moment  of  its  progress."  Giiizot,  as  a  French 
critic,  calls  him  "a  prodigious  genius,"  while  even  Taine  speaks  of 
him  "as  the  greatest  of  all  artists  who  have  represented  the  soul 
in  words."  The  opening  sentence  of  M.  Taine's  chapter  on 
Shakespeare  is  even  more  suggestive ;  it  reads :  "I  am  about  to 
describe  an  extraordinary  species  of  mind,  perplexing  to  all  the 
French  modes  of  analysis  and  reasoning;  ...  a  nature  in- 
spired, superior  to  reason,  so  impetuous  in  his  transports  that  this 
great  age  alone  could  have  cradled  such  a  child."  In  view  of 
tributes  such  as  these  we  may  say,  as  ITazlitt  said  of  Milton,  that 
"he  never  should  be  taken  up  or  laid  down  without  reverence." 
The  study,  therefore,  of  what  we  term  Shakespeareana  is  at  once 
invested  with  an  interest  that  belongs  to  no  other  separate  sub- 
ject in  English  authorship.  It  is  noteworthy,  first  of  all,  that  the 
data  as  to  some  of  the  leading  facts  and  phases  of  his  life  are,  in 
their  number  and  value,  in  the  inverse  ratio  of  his  genius  and  work, 
such  facts  beinjr  scattered  here  and  there  in  the  local  historv  of  the 


J  910]  ShaTcespeareana  103 

time,  and  so  meager  at  best  as  to  leave  forever  unsettled  some  ques- 
tions of  pressing  moment.  These  pertain  alike  to  \vliat  Dowden 
calls  "his  external  life  of  good  and  evil  fortime"  and  "the  inner 
life  of  his  spirit." 

Shakespeare's  early  life  at  Stratford,  dating  from  his  birth  in 
15G4  to  his  majority,  need  not  long  detain  us.  At  the  free  school 
he  received  the  elements  of  an  English  training  with  some  admix- 
ture of  Latin  and,  possibly,  French  and  Italian.  Tradition  has  it 
thai  lie  engaged  for  a  time  iu  the  practice  of  law,  and  even  essayed 
the  role  of  a  schoolmaster,  the  stress  of  financial  need  forcing  him 
at  length  to  London — perhaps  to  publish  plays  already  written,  or 
to  be  connected  with  some  of  his  townsmen  or  London  friends  in 
dramatic  work,  or,  indeed,  to  assume  the  function  of  an  actor,  as 
we  know  he  did  in  Hamlet  and  .Vs  You  Like  It  and  in  some  of 
Jonson's  comedies.  Beginning  his  London  life  in  15S5  as  a  serv- 
ant and  herald  at  the  old  theater  in  Shoreditch,  we  find  him,  in 
1592,  a  playwright  and  player  in  the  chief  dramatic  guild  of  the 
time,  writing  and  acting  for  profit  more  than  for  fame,  his  advice 
through  Hamlet  to  the  players  clearly  showing  that  he  had,  in 
theory  at  least,  the  correct  view  as  to  dramatic  art  and  just  what 
the  stage  was  expected  to  do  in  making  the  composition  the  most 
efTective.  Moreover,  he  fulfilled  what  the  late  Henry  Irving  so 
emphasised  as  the  essential  condition  of  composing  a  play  for  the 
stage — an  intimate  knowledge  of  all  the  details  of  theatrical  meth- 
od and  management.  Even  yet,  however,  the  material  side  seemed 
to  dominate  the  mental,  and  we  anxiously  await  the  full  dawning  of 
the  fact  in  Shakespeare's  consciousness,  wlio  in  reality  he  was, 
what  he  was  doing  and  could  do  in  dramatic  and  histrionic  spheres, 
and  what  his  real  relation  as  an  author  was  to  the  expanding  vol- 
ume of  English  letters.  Xot  as  yet  had  he  fully  "come  to  himself" 
nor  to  his  great  mission,  for  which  the  way  was  soon  to  be  open 
through  the  agency  of  royal  and  general  recognition.  In  Paris 
\vith  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  to  whom  he  dedicated  his  "Venus 
and  Adonis"  as  "the  first  heir  of  his  invention,"  acting  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  queen  and  court  at  Greenwich  and  Richmond  palace 
and  ut  Whitehall,  before  the  jurists  at  the  Inns  of  Court,  as  well 
Ofl  hcfore  James  I,  h-is  career  was  now  successfully  opened  as  at  the 


104  Methodist  Review  [January 

Globe  Theater  and  Blackf riars  lie  prosecuted  his  high  calling. 
From  the  publication  of  King  Ivichard  II,  in  1597,  well  on  toward 
his  death,  in  IGIG,  play  after  play  appeared  in  rapid  succession 
and  the  rare  dramatic  repute  of  Elizabethan  England  was  assured. 
His  reasons  for  leaving  London  at  the  zenith  of  his  fame  need  not 
be  examined,  if,  indeed,  they  can  be  known;  whether  because  of 
sufficient  income  and  sufficient  reputation  or  an  increasing  desire 
to  enjoy  the  retired  leisure  of  an  old  English  town.  Such  a 
leisure  he  in  part  enjoyed  during  the  half  dozen  closing  years  of 
his  life,  spending  his  time,  according  to  ]\Ir.  Lowell,  "in  collecting 
his  dividends  from  the  Globe  Theater,  lending  money  on  good 
mortgage,  and  leaning  over  his  gate  to  chat  with  his  neighbors," 
it  being  a  strange  coincidence  that  when  back  at  Stratford  to  live 
and  die  theaters  were  closed  by  process  of  law.  At  the  untimely 
age  of  fifty-two  Shakespeare  died,  a  man — as  Mrs.  Browning  in 
lier  "Vision  of  Poets"'  strongly  states  it — "on  whose  fo)"ehead 
climb  the  crowns  of  the  world." 

In  the  survey  of  Shakespeare's  life  some  questions  of  special 
interest  emerge.  First,  as  to  his  education.  It  is  known  that  he 
was  not  a  university  man.  In  this  resjieet  he  was  excejotional,  as 
an  Elizabethan  author,  though  in  company  with  Jonson  and  Mid- 
dlcton.  In  his  works,  however,  there  are  found  accurate  descrip- 
tions of  countries  and  customs,  the  use  of  classical  terms  in  etymo- 
logical senses,  delicate  verbal  distinctions,  and  a  use  of  technical 
terms  common  only  to  a  scholar,  as  seen  in  his  free  use  of  medical 
and  legal  phraseology.  -This,  it  is  argued  by  some,  was  a  part  of 
his  natural  endowment,  due  to  genius  pure  and  simple.  Di*yden 
says  thai  ho  was  "naturally  learned."  He  had,  says  Drummond, 
"natnral  brain,"  or,  as  Denham  styles  it,  "old  mother  wit."  lie 
speaks,  himself,  of  his  "untutored  lines."  Such  an  explanation, 
however,  does  not  meet  the  issue.  Genius  itself  has  its  limitations. 
It  cannot  impart  tcachnical  knowledge,  tliough  it  may  exception- 
ally utilize  it  when  secured.  Xot  that  tlie  man  of  special  endow- 
ment may  not  ])ossess  the  ac(piisitive  facully  in  peculiar,  power,  so 
that  ho  sees  more  quickly  than  others,  discarding  all  tuition  and 
external  aid.  But  the  genius  of  acquisition  is  not  that  of  inven- 
tion ;  it  takes  for  granted  a  process  uf  training  and  study  to  com- 


1010]  Shal-espcareana  105 

pass  the  results  toward  which  it  is  reaching.  Still  again,  it  is 
said  that  he  was  a  borrower  at  large,  applying  at  pleasure  the 
material  he  needed  for  tlie  special  purpose  in  hand.  That  he  used 
all  needed  inaterial  in  the  evolution  of  his  plans  is  conceded,  but 
this  is,  after  all,  nothing  other  than  securing  such  material  bj  im- 
woaricd  industry.  He  had  access,  as  others  had,  to  the  open  store- 
liouse  of  known  truth.  Shakespeare's  learning  was  acquired  by 
ordinary  process.  He  may  have  had,  as  Jonson  tells  us,  "small 
Latin  and  less  Greek,"  but  he  utilized  in  phenomenal  ways  that 
which  he  had.  A  comparison  here  between  Sliakespeare  and 
Burns,  each  a  genius  and  each  without  liberal  training,  will  reveal 
the  immense  superiority^  of  the  former  both  as  to  the  acquisition 
and  use  of  literary  material.  This  difficulty  of  accounting  for 
such  learning  has  given  some  basis  to  the  Baconian  theory  of  the 
plays,  with  regard  to  which  it  may  be  said  that  if  by  this  we 
escape  one  difficulty  we  invite  another  equally  serious,  in  that  it  is 
as  difficult  to  account  for  the  possession  of  Shakespearean  genius  by 
Bacon  as  it  is  to  account  for  the  possession  of  Baconian  learning 
by  Shakespeare.  Moreover,  scholars  are  slowly  conceding  that  lib- 
erally educated  men  have  no  monoj^oly  of  truth,  and  that  often,  as 
they  sit  dreaming  over  their  books  in  fancied  possession  of  special 
privilege,  these  untutored  minds — so  called — are  looking  at  the 
world  of  life  and  fact  with  tlieir  eyes  wide  open  and  taking  in  all 
they  see  and  hear.  A  second  question  pertains  to  Shakespeare's 
religious  beliefs  and  life.  Here  again  there  are  extreme  views. 
That  he  was  an  essentially  godly  man,  after  the  type  of  I^ox  and 
1'  ox  and  tlie  English  reformers,  is  the  view  of  some.  Hence  we  are 
told  that  his  plays  are  a  kind  of  second  Bible,  as  Mr.  Rees,  in  his 
Shakespeare  and  the  Bible,  sets  forth.  Hence  his  allusions  to 
Christ,  the  Deity,  and  the  atonement,  as  set  forth  by  Bishop  "Words- 
worth, are  magnified  by  critics  in  support  of  this  view.  The 
Tempest,  we  are  told,  is  the  di-amatist's  account  of  Paul's  voyage 
iUid  shipwreck.  In  fact,  in  these  biblical  references  there  is  noth- 
ing conclusive,  since  Shakespeare  used  them,  as  he  used  the  facts 
or  history,  as  purely  literary  material.  As  he  himself  tells  us,  even 
**thc  devil  can  cite  Scripture  for  his  purpose."  The  Bible  and 
lh(r)logical  teaching  took  their  place,  in  his  view,  with  all  other 


106  ' '  Mclhodlsl  Ji-cview  [Jiuniary 

sources  from  which  he  drew  at  pleasure.  A  more  dangerous 
extreme  asserts  that  Shakespeare  was  a  wikl  and  reckless  youth, 
defying  all  human  and  divine  law,  dissipating  at  Stratford  and  in 
the  clubs  of  Loudon.  His  death,  it  is  said,  was  due  to  a  fever 
contracted  at  a  "merry  meeting"  with  Jonson  and  Drayton;  "a 
native  wit,"  says  Taine  with  irony,  ''not  shackled  by  morality." 
Most  of  this  gratuitous  criticism  is  based  on  pure  conjecture,  and 
shoiild  receive  no  indorsement  at  the  hands  of  the  careful  student 
of  English  letters.  The  modified  and  more  charitable  view  is  that 
Shakespeare  had  a  creditable  knowledge  of  the  Ijible,  that  he  had 
been  Christianly  instructed  and  trained  in  the  Protestant  faith,  and 
at  the  close  of  his  life  at  least,  appears  as  a  thoroughly  upright 
citizen  and  a  worthy  man  of  the  world.  Xot  a  Christian  by 
opeii  profession,  he  looked  at  truth  and  duty  in  his  own  way, 
maintained  an  honorable  attitude  toward  the  church  and  the 
prevailing  faith,  and  aimed  in  what  he  'wrote  to  elevate  the 
moral  standards  of  the  time.  As  Chaucer  before  him,  he  never 
posed  as  a  reformer,  announced  no  creed,  and  championed  no 
special  moral  movement,  and  yet,  as  Guizot  writes,  ''was  the 
most  profound  and  dramatic  of  moralists,"  ISTeither  a  pessimist 
nor  an  optimist,  he  stood  on  the  safe  ground  of  meliorism, 
believing  that  all  was  working  steadily  for  the  better.  Despite 
the  fact  that  his  pages  must  be  at  times  expurgated  to  meet  the 
somewhat  fastidious  taste  of  modern  times,  no  one  can  rationally 
accuse  him  of  a  willful  pin-pose  to  corru])t  the  conscience  or  shock 
the  most  delicate  sensibilities  of  his  readers.  Ilere,  as  elsewhere, 
he  was  immeasurably  above  the  standard  of  his  fellow  dramatists. 
Such  a  play  as  ^Macbeth  is  a  study  in  moral  science  quite  impos- 
sible to  an  author  who  was  not  well  versed  in  ethical  distinctions 
and  anxious  to  throw  the  wcigjit  of  his  influence  on  the  side  of 
truth  and  right.  As  to  Shakespeare's  religious  beliefs  and  life, 
however,  this  is  to  be  said  as  a  final  word — that  tliey  lie  properly 
outside  the  s})here  of  the  literary  student  as  such.  It  is  ques- 
tionable whether,  if  asked  to  do  so,  he  could  have  for- 
mulated liis  own  doctrinal  creed,  while  he  lived  his  private 
life  in  accordance  with  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  essential 
principles  of  Christian  morality.     His  religious  personality  is  as 


1910]  "       Shnl-cspeafcana  107 

much  concealed  in  his  plays  as  his  mental  and  social  and  civic 
or,  indeed,  his  literary  personality.  lie  writes  as  an  interpreter 
of  general  truth  to  men  and  not  as  a  revealer  of  his  own  states  of 
inind  or  ethical  conditions.- 

A  further  topic  of  interest  included  under  our  ca})tion  is  tlic 
English  of  Shakespeare — as  an  example  of  sixteenth  century  or 
Elizabethan  English,  or  of  that  ''Xew  Euglish"  of  which  Oliphant 
speaks  as  representing  the  opening  of  the  Modern  English  era  as 
distinct  from  the  Old  and  Aliddle  English  of  Alfred  and  Chaucer. 
It  is  to  this  that  ]\Ieres,  in  his  "Palladis  Tamia,"  refers  when  he 
says  "that  the  Muses  would  speak  with  Shakespeare's  fine-filed 
phrase  if  they  would  speak  English,"  or,  as  Wordsworth  expresses 

it, 

We  must  be  free  or  die  who  speak   the  tongue 
That  Shakespeare  spake. 

Including  in  his  vocabulary  about  fifteen  thousand  of  the  fifty 
thousand  English  words  then  cun-ent,  making  a  happy  combination 
of  the  literary  and  the  popular,  using  words  in  primitive  senses 
and  yet  in  obedience  to  the  demands  of  the  verse,  giving  due  def- 
erence to  the  claims  of  the  older  English  while  fully  in  line  with 
the  developing  history  of  the  language,  above  all,  using  a  diction 
thoroughly  suited  to  his  own  personality  and  purpose  as  an  author, 
the  jjlirase,  Shakespearean  English,  is  rightly  regarded  as  one  sy- 
nonymous with  good  English.  Attention  has  been  directed  indeed 
to  the  so-called  ungrammatical  character  of  tlie  dramatist's  diction  ; 
to  omissions  and  inversions  and  violations  of  standard  structure, 
with  consequent  crudcness  and  lack  of  verbal  finish.  In  a  word, 
Shakespeare  is  said  to  be  an  incorrect  writer  and  his  English  an 
unsafe  model  to  students  of  our  langiuige  and  style.  But  such 
critics  forget  that  in  dealing  with  the  English  of  Shakespeare  they 
arc  dealing  with  an  order  of  English  three  centuries  back  of  us, 
and  just  at  the  formative  period  of  our  language  as  modern.  To 
expect  to  find  an  English  vocabulary,  diction,  and  structure  similar 
to  that  now  obtaining  is  to  expect  the  impossible.  It  would  be  as 
natural  to  look  for  the  dominance  of  Chaucerian  English  in  tlie 
sixteenth  century.  Historically  and  naturally  neither  of  these 
conditions  could  exist.     It  was  the  shaping  transitional  English 


108      -     ■"  Methodist  lie  view  [January 

o£  the  new  awakening,  j)artaking  alike  of  old  and  new  elements, 
with  the  increasing  ein])liasiy  of  the  new.  ^Vhat  wonld  not  be  al- 
lowable now  was  allowable  and  necessary  then,  while  a  part  of  the 
genius  of  Sliakespeare  as  an  author  lav  in  the  fact  that  he  clearly 
comprehended  the  character  and  tlie  needs  of  tlie  new  era ;  knew 
just  wliere  he  stood,  and  knew  what  he  was  to  do  and  did  it.  The 
fact  that  we  now  need  an  Elizabethan  grannnar  and  glossary  fully 
to  interpret  the  diction  and  structure  of  the  plays  is  no  discredit  to 
Shakespeare,  but  the  best  evidence  that  he  knew  his  place  as  an 
Elizabethan,  the  compass  and  limitations  of  the  langiiage  he  was 
using,  while  at- the  same  time  so  loyal  to  its  intrinsic  nature  as 
to  render  those  very  plays  comprehen--;ible  to  every  intelligent  mod- 
ern reader.  A  comparison  here,  again,  between  Shakespeare  and 
the  minor  dramatists  will  reveal  the  vast  difference  between  the 
use  of  English  in  its  idiomatic  strength  and  richness  and  its  use 
as  modified  by  various  classical  and  Continental  influences.  One 
of  the  Tinansv/erable  arguments  against  the  Baconian  authorship  of 
the  plays  is  found  at  this  point :  that,  in  so  far  as  we  have  an 
exam2)lo  of  Baconian  English  in  Bacon's  works,  it  is  an  order  of 
English  far  below  the  Shakespearean  as  to  its  native  idiom  and 
range.  Bacon  could  not  have  written  Cymbeline  or  The  Winter's 
Tale,  even  as  ShakesjK'are  could  not  have  written  The  Advance- 
ment of  Learning.  Even  in  the  sixteenth  century  an  author  three 
fourths  of  whose  literary  product  was  in  Latin  was  not  the  author 
to  use  the  native  language  as  the  great  dramatist  did.  In  the  use 
of  terse  and  trenchaiit  words,  in  the  nice  adaptation  of  the  word  to 
the  idea,  and  of  the  word  to  the  specific  character  at  the  time 
uttei-ing  it,  in  the  tise  of  what  Whipple  has  called  "^suggestive 
terms,"  in  the  largo  place  given  to  the  Old  English  element, 
and  in  the  pervading  eu])hony  of  the  language,  this  order  of  Eng- 
li.sh  was  witiiout  a  parallel  in  its  own  day,  and  has  as  yet  no  su- 
perior. The  justifiable  inference  is  that,  in  whatever  later  period 
»Shakespearc  might  have  lived,  he  would  have  been  as  true  an 
exponent  of  the  best  English  of  the  time  as  he  was  in  the  transition- 
xil  age  of  the  Tiidors. 

Special    attcniion    should    be    called    to    Shakespeare's    use 
of  figin-e.     Eigurative  language  finds  its  best  expression  in  verse. 


]0J0]  Shakcspeareana  109 

jis  the  more  imaginative  form  of  literature,  and  in  verse  it- 
self conies  to  its  best  expression  in  the  clranni,  so  that  the  student 
of  symbolic  terms  could  gather  from  these  tliirty-sevcn  plays  alone 
a  sufficient  number  and  variety  of  figures  to  constitute  a  manual 
for  educational  use.  Ilis  pages  abound  in  simile  and  metaphor  and 
allegory ;  in  antithesis  and  epigram ;  in  irony,  hyperbole,  personifi- 
cation and  climax;  in  all  the  varied  forms  of  metonymy,  there  be- 
ing a  notable  combination  of  the  milder  ^vith  the  more  vigorous 
figures  of  pictorial  literature.  Even  in  the  historical  plays,  so  di- 
dactic in  method  and  style,  there  is  a  rare  use  of  s}nnbolism,  as, 
especially,  in  the  great  dramas  founded  on  Eoman  character  and 
life.  To  attempt  a  selection  from  such  a  mass  of  symbolic  wealth 
is  almost  invidious,  it  being  safe  to  say  of  Shakespeare,  what  can- 
not be  said  so  fully  of  any  other  English  poet,  that  any  page  of  his 
verse,  opened  at  random,  will  furnish  some  fitting  example  of  this 
graphic  diction,  such  a  play  as  The  Midsummer  Xight's  Dream 
being  almost  one  continuous  expression  of  figurative  phraseology. 
So  frequent  and  pertinent  is  this  tropical  use  of  language  that  the 
reader  is  at  times  at  a  loss  to  know  which  is  the  controlling  factor, 
the  literal  or  the  s\nnbolic.  So  deftly  are  they  interwoven  that 
the  nicest  scrutiny  cannot  dissever  them.  Here,  again,  Shake- 
.t^peare's  use  of  figure  rises  to  the  plane  of  genius,  the  figure,  more- 
over, never  being  iised  for  its  own  sake,  but  only  as  an  adjutant  to 
the  thought,  to  make  it  clearer  and  more  impressive.  An  addi- 
tional subject  of  interest  is  found  in  the  study  of  Shakespeare  as 
a  dramatic  artist — a  phrase  that  has  become  more  current  of  late 
by  tlie  suggestive  use  made  of  it  in  a  treatise  by  Professor  IMoulton, 
the  emphasis  being  laid  on  the  word, "artist."  In  the  preface  to  his 
work  the  author  writes  of  the  wrong  impression  among  Englisli 
readers  "that  Shakespeare  is  careless  as  to  the  technicalities  of 
dramatic  art,"  insisting  that  he  was  as  masterly  in  this  as  in  any 
other  expression  of  his  genius,  so  that  he  really  created  a  revolution 
in  the  province  of  dramatic  technique  and  criticism.  Hudson,  in 
his  standard  edition  of  Shakespeare,  refers  directly  to  this,  as  he 
writes,  "First  and  foremost  of  the  things  in  which  Shakespeare  is 
especially  distinguished  is  dramatic  composition,"  by  which  he 
nunns  dramatic  art,  of  which  he  alleges  there  was  no  intelligent 


110  Method isi  Picviciu  [Jamiarj 

view  i)i  England  prior  to  tlie  sixteenth  century  and  Shakespeare 
himself,  who  illustrated  in  his  plays  that  a  drama  is  "an  organic 
structure"  and  not  a  mere  fortuitous  collection  of  scenic  material, 
as  he  also  evinced  an  ahility  well-nigh  intuitive  of  conceiving  and 
developing  character.  While  the  conception  of  the  character  be- 
longs, in  a  sense,  to  dranmtic  genius,  what  is  known  as  characteriza- 
tion or  the  portrayal  of  the  character,  belongs  to  dramatic  art,  auH 
in  Shakespeare  the  latter  is  as  pronounced  as  the  former.  A 
most  suggestive  sentiment  from  Lessing,  the  German  critic,  is  here 
in  place,  that  "the  artist  of  genius  contains  within  himself  the 
best  of  all  rules."  Xot  that  he  is  above  all  literary  law — Lessing 
does  not  assert  this — but  that,  the  law  being  present  and  accepted 
and  applied,  the  test  of  its  fitness  and  force  is  found  not  in  the 
schools,  nor  in  this  or  that  consensus  of  literary  opinion,  but  in  the 
inherent  artistic  sense  of  the  poet  himself,  who  instinctively  ac- 
cepts or  rejects  that  which  is  of/ered  to  his  suffrage.  Genius  that 
S'hakespeare  was,  he  was  none  the  less  an  artist,  but  "an  artist  of 
genius,"  and  no  view  can  be  farther  from  the  truth  than  that  this 
great  thinker  and  writer  did  what  he  did  without  effort,  or  design, 
or  deference  to  literary  statute,  by  the  sheer  ungiiided  action  of 
innate  tendencies  and  taste.  A  more  laborious  student  and  worker 
than  he  was  in  the  days  of  his  middle  manhood  lived  not  in  Lon- 
don;  a  student  in  the  conception  and  composition  of  plays,  in  ad- 
justment of  part  to  part  according  to  a  definite  plan,  in  the  revi- 
sion and  criticism  of  his  own  work,  so  that  he  might  present  a 
resultant  in  which  nature  and  art,  invention  and  execution,  had 
each  its  ])lacc  and  were  mutually  helpful. 

A  word  as  lo  the  limitations  of  Shakespeare's  genius.  Addi- 
son in  his  criticism  of  Paradise'  Lost  renuirks  that  he  has  "seen 
in  the  works  of  a  modern  philosopher  a  map  of  the  spots  in  the 
sun."  So  even  Shakespeare  has  his  defects,  though  they  may  be 
"the  defects  of  his  virtues."  It  is  somewhat  surprising,  for  ex- 
ample, that  he  ever  could  have  written,  the  Sonnets  excepted,  his 
non-dramatic  poems,  which,  as  a  whole,  seldom  rise  above  the 
veriest  cornnionplace  cither  in  thought  or  structure.  In  few  in- 
stances, if  any,  has  Coleridge  so  forgotten  himself  as  when  he 
assigns  to  the.xe  jn-odnctions  any  high  order  of  merit.     The  titles 


^r,  ml  Shakespcareana  111^ 

of  tlK-c  pocms-^'Veuus  and  Adonis,"  "The  Ilcipe  of  Lncrece," 
"A  Lover's  ConipLiint,"  and  "The  Passionate  Pilgrim"— indicate 
tlioir  character  as  not  only  cynical  but  sensnous,  even  verging  close 
to  the  line  of  error  in  aesthetic  art  and  not  infrequently  crossing  it. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  find  any  considerable  number  of  stanzas  in 
them  that  remind  us  even  indirectly  of  Shakespeare.     Here  and 
there  ^vc  find  a  line  or  couplet  indicative  of  the  master,  some  of  the 
,nost  notable  lines  being  justly  assigned  to  ^larlowe.     It  is  in  these 
poems  that  the  charge  of  euphuism,  or  overwrought  sentiment  and 
expression,  finds  its^ullest  justification.     It  is  to  this^that  Hazlitt 
alludes  as  ho  speaks  of  Shakespeare's  use  of  "all  the  technicalities 
q£  .,^.|     ,     .     ,     ^vhere  words  have  been  made  a  substitute  for 
things."     So  Dowden  remarks,  in  writing  of  "Venus  and  Adonis," 
that'siiakespeare's  endeavor  ^vas  "to  invent  elaborate  speeches  in 
that  style  of  high-wrought  fantasy  which  was  the  fashion  of  the 
time."'  It  is  to  this  euphuistic  feature  that  Jonson  refers  when  he 
wishes  that  Shakespeare  "had  blotted  a  thousand  lines"  from  the 
completed  text  of  liis  plays.    "I  am  ready  to  grant,"  writes  Lowell, 
"that  Shakespeare  is  sometimes  lempted  away  from  the  natural 
by  the  quaint ;  that  he  sometimes  forces  a  partial,  even  a  verbal, 
analogy  between  tlie  abstract  thought  and  the  sensual  image  into 
an  absolute  identity."    Frequent  reference  has  justly  been  made  to 
the  presence  of  this  error  in  the  character  of  Shakespeare  as  a  wit, 
when,  leaving  the  safer  and  more  natural  province  of  humor,  he 
l>lavs'  upon  words  and  fanciful  resemblances  so  as  to  direct  at- 
tention from  the  thought  to  the  mode  of  stating  it.    In  these  lighter 
].oem3  of  mere  sentiment  the  temptations  to  such  forced  conceits 
are  too  potent  to  be  resisted.    Xor  is  the  error  confined  to  the  non- 
dramatic  poems,    ^'hen  we  are  told  by  White  that  Titus  Andron- 
icus  is  a  "tragedy  filled  with  bombastic  langaiage,"  that  Love's 
Labour's  Lost  is  "an  almost  boyish  production,"  that  The  Two 
Gentlemen  of  Verona  shows  "that  the  poet  had  not  freecl  himself 
from  the  influence  of  the  prose  romances  of  his  early  days,"  special 
reference  is  made  to  this  sin  of  diffuscncss  with  all  its  attendant 
evils.     The  greatest  of  minds,  however,   are  at  times  off  their 
guard,  and  at  times  purposely  below  their  best  selves,  so  that,  all 
•  rrors  conceded  at  this  point,  justice  demands  that  Shakespeare  be 


112  Methodist  Be  view  [January 

judged  rather  by  his  own  protests  against  enphnisni  and  his 
incisive  caricature  of  it  than  by  occasional  fault  in  this 
direction.  Even  where  at  times  he  seems  to  he  purposely  cuphu- 
iirtic,  a  closer  examination  reveals  the  fact  that  he  is  acting 
in  the  role  of  an  impersonator  of  character,  hoping,  in  this  indirect 
manner,  tlic  Letter  to  expose  and  condemn  a  current  Elizabethan 
error.  Hence  we  turn  with  renewed  iiUcrcst  to  a  final  topic — 
Shakespeare's  pervasive  presence  in  modern  English  literature. 
The  statement  has  been  made  respecting  Emerson  that  the  Emer- 
sonian influence  has  become  a  substantive  part  of  American  lit- 
erature. The  same  remark  may  be  made  as  to  Shakespeare's  per- 
sonality in  English  letters.  We  have  called  it  a  pervasive  i)res- 
ence,  a  sort  of  a  pan-anthropism  in  our  literary  product.  Eead 
where  we  will,  we  see  it  in  prose  and  verse,  in  epic  and  drama  and 
lyric,  in  mind  and  art,  in  English  civilization  and  social  history. 
English  poetry,  especially,  is  thoroughly  Shakespeareanized.  The 
forms  or  evidences  of  this  presence  are  varied.  "We  see  it  first  of 
all  in  the  extended  number  of  quotable  passages  that  have  been 
taken  from  his  works.  Erom  other  poets  ^^■e  select  here  and  there 
and  at  length  come  to  the  limit  of  our  choice.  In  Shakespeare, 
however,  we  come  to  no  end.  Passage  follows  passage,  each  appear- 
ing more  apt  and  forcible  than  the  preceding.  Some  of  his  plays 
are  adducible  almost  in  their  entirety,  the  exception  being  as  to  the 
portions  that  may  not  bear  citation.  Volumes  of  extracts  are  thus 
to  ho,  found  in  our  libraries,  while  the  Avay  in  which,  the  body  of 
English  literature  is  interspersed  with  these  passages  is  quite 
phenomenal.  A  further  testimony  to  this  presence  is  seen  in  the 
fact  that  the  best  of  authors  have  their  place  and  prime,  and  the 
reason  of  their  decadence  forms  a  part  of  our  literary  study. 
.Shakespeare  is  growing  younger  as  the  centuries  pass  and  students 
are  now  vying  with  each  other  as  never  before  to  present  his  work 
in  all  possible  forms  for  popular  and  educational  purposes.  The 
question  of  the  regeneration  of  the  modern  stage  is  before  the 
modern  public,  and  after  various  theories  have  been  broached  the 
critics  are  coming  back  to  the  only  tenable  one — the  reinstatement 
of  the  Shakespearean  drama,  and  in  ever  fuller  form,  that  the 
twentieth  century  may  learn  from  the  sixteenth  to  what  a  high 


]010]     .  Shal-espcareana  113 

function  dramatic  composition  may  rise.  jSTo  higher  tribute  tlian 
ill  is  could  be  paid  to  this  master  of  masters.  In  the  classification 
of  our  English  poets  Shakespeare  must  be  allowed  to  stand  alone. 
There  is  none  like  him  or  approximately  like  him.  The  fact  is 
that  as  an  interpreter  of  human  life  Shakespeare  meets  so  general 
and  ])rofound  a  need  that  it  is  inconceivable  that  his  influence 
should  ever  materially  decline,  nor  is  there  at  present  any  sign  of 
^U(■h  decadence.  lie  is,  by  way  of  eminence,  the  minister  of  truth 
to  men,  and  his  ministry  is  indispensable.  Ilis  plays  are  not  so 
mucli  specimens  of  dramatic  poetry  and  a  specific  part  of  general 
literature  as  they  are  a  medium  through  which  he  offers  to  men 
what  they  need  in  the  line  of  characterization  and  insight. 

Of  all  authors  Shakespeare  must  be  known  personally,  must 
he  communed  Avith  in  secret  by  the  reader  himself,  must  be  asked 
to  interpret  his  meaning  to  us  in  his  own  Avay,  that  so  we  may,  in 
."^ome  measure,  understand  Avhat  God  did  for  the  English  race  and 
the  world  at  large  when  he  gave  them  a  man  and  a  poet  of  such 
nipreme  endowment.  Thus  :\ratthew  Arnold  penned  his  impres- 
sive tribute  as  he  abandoned  all  attempt  to  account  for  this  im- 
perial poet  or  to  compare  him  with  any  other  dramatist: 

Others  abide  our  question.     Thou  art  free. 

We  ask  and  ask.    Thou  smilest  and  art  still, 

Outtopping  knowledge.     For  the  loftiest  hiil, 

"Who  to  the  stars  uncrowns  his  majesty. 

Planting  his  steadfast  footsteps  in  the  sea, 

Making  the  heaven  of  heavens  his  dwelling  place. 

Spares  but  the  cloudy  border  of  his  base 

To  the  foiled  searching  of  mortality; 

And  thou,  who  didst  the  stars  and  sunbeams  know, 

Self-schooled,  self-scanned,  self-honored,  self-secure, 

Didst  tread  on  earth  unguessed  at.     Better  so! 

All  pains  the  immortal  spirit  must  endure, 

All  weakness  which  impairs,  all  griefs  which  bow. 

Find  their  sole  speech  in  that  victorious  brow. 


J^^i 


11-i  Methodist  Beview  [Jauuary 


Aet.  IX.— la  SAISIAZ 

TiiK  first  words  of  this  poem,  "Dared  and  done,"  rivet  our 
attention.  Reading  on,  attention  is  quickened  into  ardor.  The 
pulse  beats  faster.  The  mind  i-i  "stung  with  sudden  splendors 
of  thought."  I  read  this  poem  again  the  other  day,  and  I  do  not 
know  that  I  ever  enjoyed  two  or  three  hours  more.  Here  are 
words,  new  and  old,  chosen  with  striking  accuracy  and  suggestive- 
ness,  exquisite  art  and  soulful  music,  agile  and  sine^vy  thought, 
intense  and  noble  feelings,  iron-forged  links  of  reason.  But,  above 
all,  here  are  soul  and  faith  and  God,  which,  carved  into  attractive 
forms  and  entwined  with  delicate  art,  are  the  mighty  marble 
pillars  ujjon  which  the  structure  rests.  It  were  hard  to  imagine 
how  the  soul  v/ould  want  anything  better.  It  is  a  fit  comjianion 
poem  of  "In  ]\Iemoriam,"  written  under  similar  circumstances 
and  meditating  upon  the  same  theme.  But  the  difference,  after 
all,  is  very  marked.  As  Edward  Berdoe  says,  "In  !Memoriam"  is 
*'a  threnody,  almost  a  woman's  wail  over  her  own  heart,  sorely 
lacerated  by  death's  severance,"  "La  Saisiaz"  "a  noble  psalm  of 
victory  of  soul  over  matter  and  of  hope  beyond  the  grave." 
Bobert  Browning  always  has  a  clear  sky.  In  all  of  his  poems 
flashes  of  faith  arc  ever  lea}>iiig  up,  but  "La  Saisiaz"  is  a  brightly 
illuminated  path  leading  through  life  and  death. 

I.  There  arc  some  things  about  "La  Saisiaz,"  as  about  most 
of  Browning,  that  need  be  known  in  advance  in  order  to  an  easy 
reading  and  full  appreciation  of  it.  Browning  never  takes  time 
to  locate  for  us  the  source  of  his  rivers  or  to  describe  the.  direction 
in  which  they  flow.  The  stream  is  already  deep  and  wide  where 
our  boat  is  to  l)e  launched,  so  that  to  move  along  with  him  it  is 
necessary  to  prepare  ourselves  for  it.  "La  Saisiaz"  is  by  no  means 
obscure  or  ditiicult,  yet  there  are  some  details  Avhich  are  an  ad- 
vantage to  know  in  the  beginning.  The  poem  was  written  after 
the  death  of  one  of  Bobcrt  Browning's  favorite  women  friends, 
^liss  A.  Edgerton-Smilh,  whom  he  had  met  in  Florence,  Italy, 
anil,  at  first  attracted  by  her  love  of  music,  came  to  form  a  high 
regard  for  her.     Afterward,  when  both  had  taken  up  residence  in 


jlJlO]  La  Soisiaz  115 

j.ojuloJi,  thev  were  intimately  associated,  and  found  much 
i>k'ariuve  in  one  another's  conipaiiy.  Hor  sndden  death  at  La 
Siiisiaz,  in  the  autumn  of  1877,  was  a  severe  shock  to  Browning. 
'J'lic  thoughts  arising  at  such  a  time  would  naturally  relate  to  the 
final  destiny  of  life ;  what  it  means  here,  and  what  is  required  for 
its  fulfillment.  The  statement  of  the  theme  of  the  poem  is  in 
tlicse  words: 

We  bear,  own  life  a  burden  more  or  less. 

Life  thus  owned  unhappy,  is  there  supplemental  happiness 

Possible  and  probable  in  life  to  come?    Or  must  we  count 

Life  a  curse,  and  not  a  blessing,  summed  up  in  its  whole  amount — 

Help  and  hindrance,  joy  and  sorrow? 

The  question  introduced  here  Browning  will  have  an  answer  for 
from  himself,  without  fear  or  favor.  From  himself,  observe.  The 
theme  is  common  to  Bro^^ming.  Life,  death,  immortality,  soul, 
God  are  Bro\vning's  meat  and  drink.  They  are  the  realm  in  which 
he  lives.  Shakespeare  deals  Avith  the  natural  man,  and  is  supreme 
in  his  realm,  but  Browning  deals  with  the  spiritual  man.  Tlie 
two  arc  luardly  to  be  compared;  only  contrasted.  One  looks  in 
:uid  out,  the  other  in  and  up.  The  one  is  an  interpreter  of  man 
in  his  relation  to  man,  the  other  of  man  in  his  relation  to  God. 
Still,  while  the  topic  of  this  poem  is  not  new,  the  standpoint  is. 
Browning  generally  speaks  through  others — Paracelsus,  Caliban, 
Guido,  Pope,  Pippa — who,  A\'hile  Browning  utters  himself  through 
them,  are  mediums  tliat  color  and  shape  the  utterance.  In 
*"<'hristmas  Eve"  and  "Easter  Day"  there  is  a  nearer  approach 
to  the  direct  form,  and  yet  even  in  these  there  is  some  reserve  and 
they  may  not  be  taken  too  literally.  But  here  in  "La  Saisiaz"  we 
look  into  Browning's  soul  and  faith  as  into  a  starry  sky  of  a 
<lear  night. 

11.  To  get  the  full  force  of  Browning's  accumulative  thought 
one  has  to  be  alert.  We  cannot  throw  hooks  in  here  and  there 
and  catch  his  fish.  We  must  get  down  into  the  stream  with  our 
nets.  Xot  that  there  are  not  many  beautiful  passages  whose 
^{)lendor  does  not  appear  in  their  isolation.  There  are.  For 
««'Mi.s  of  art,  of  imagery,  of  truth,  of  "felicities  and  fancies," 
i>ro\vning  has  no  superior,  with  one  possible  exception — hardly 


116  Mctliodist  Bcv'iew  [January 

that  Still,  Browniiig  is  not  so  nnich  dianiond-cuttor  as  architect. 
The  whole  with  him  is  always  greater  than  its  parts,  and  every 
part  is  fitted  in  so  as  to  reenforce  the  whole.  He  clears  off  a  space, 
digs  a  foundation,  lays  a  corner  stone,  carves  arches  and  pillars, 
until  a  great  structure  rises  up.  It  makes  little  difrerence  where 
you  drop  do\m  in  Emerson.  It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the 
world  with  Browning.  One  cannot  let  Browning  get  out  of  sight 
for  a  minute  or  he  may  make  a  sudden  turn  and  be  lost,  '"l^a 
Saisiaz"  begins  with  two  certainties:  the  thing  which  questions 
is,  and  the  something  about  which  the  question  is  asked  is;  these 
are  soul  and  God.  The  soul  is  to  God  what  the  rush  is  to  the 
stream  in  which  it  floats.  Whence  ?  Wliither  ?  Will  the  soul 
continue  ?  To  argue  God's  goodness  is  to  forget  the  reign  of 
wrong  in  the  Avorld.  To  pkad  for  his  power  is  to  lead  us  to  ask 
why  his  power  docs  not  abolish  wrong  here.  If  wrong  pre- 
domijiates,  the  quicker  life  is  done  with  the  better.  If  good,  what 
,need  of  a  future  ?  To  urge  the  soul's  yearning  for  God  is  met 
with  the  well-learned  fact  that  many  yearnings  in  life  are  never 
fulfilled.  To  assert  that  the  soul  and  body  are  not  the  same  faces 
us  to  the  fact  that,  so  far  as  we  know,  they  are  necessary  to  one 
another.  To  say  Ave  believe  is  likewise  a  cup  whose  soft  ingredient 
and  sweet  infusion  are  spilt  out  by  the  stern  law  of  cause  and  eftVct. 
There  is  no  help  in  such  reasoning.  Personal  experience  must 
prove  tlie  problem.  The  first  clear  thing  in  Browning's  experience 
is  that  there  is  no  reconciling  of  this  world  to  the  wisdom,  power, 
and  goodness  of  God  if  we  cannot  look  upon  this  world  as  being 
a  probation  space.  The  world,  as  a  work  of  God,  succeeds  in  some 
parts,  fails  in  others,  like  man's.  With  good  there  is  evil.  Joy 
is  interru})ted  with  pain. 

The  rose  must  sigh,  "Pluck — I  perish!"  the  eve  weep,  "Gaze,  I  fade!" 
Every  sweet  warn,  "  'Ware  my  bitter!"  every  shine  bid,  "Wait  my  shade." 

If  this  world,  Browning  declares,  is  not  the  prelude  to  another 
life,  it  is  just  about  half  evil  and  half  good,  with  no  favorable 
reflection  of  God.  It  can  bo  endured  througli  necessity,  but  he 
rebels  against  imputing  divine  attributes  to  the  creating  power. 
But  grant  a  futur*',  and  all  is  changed: 


r.)io 


La  Saisiaz  11' 


Only  prant  my  soul  may  carry  high  through  death  her  cup  unspilled, 
Ilrliiiruing   though   it   may   be  with   knov»iedge,   life's   loss    drop   by   drop 

distiliPd, 
I  kIkiII  boast  it  mine— the  balsam,  bless  each  kindly  wrench  that  wrung 
Krom  life's  tree  its  inmost  virtue,  tapped  the  root  whence  pleasure  sprung, 
Harked  the  bole,  and  broke  the  bough,  and  bruised  the  berry,  left  all  grace 
Aslios  in  death's  stern  alembic,  loosed  elixir  in  its  place! 

VWvn  in  the  loss  of  his  dear  friend,  whicJi  has  cast  a  shadow  longer 
inid  deeper  than  he  ever  could  have  foreseen,  to  walk  again  M'ith 
lier,  ''Worst  were  best,  defeat  were  triumph,  utter  loss  were 
utmost  gain," 

At  this  point  we  come  up  with  one  of  the  most  sublime  con- 
<-ei)lions  of  literature.  Browning  sets  his  soul  forth  in  solitary, 
daring,  su})reme  independence.  It  umpires  for  Fancy  and  Keason 
ns  ihey  thrust  at  one  another.  As  Closes  stood  with  lifted  rod  over 
the  contending  armies,  as  the  white  summit  of  a  lofty  mountain 
l)cak  rises  high  over  its  surrounding  rivals,  Browning's  soul  rises 
up  and  stands  forth  glorious  in  faith.  Fancy  may  get  facts  too 
easily,  and  Keason  too  hardly.  Browning  will  not  be  carried 
away  on  the  gauzy  wings  of  idle  imaginings,  to  be  dropped  stid- 
«!<-iily  down,  nor  will  he  lie  on  the  ground  with  his  face  downward, 
like  Caliban,  to  sprawl  in  the  dirt.  He  is  man  and  God  is  God — 
two  interlinked  entities  in  the  world,  with  one  true,  wholesome, 
alI-})owerful  relation — faith.  The  dialogue  between  Fancy  and 
Keason  is  carried  on  to  show  once  more  that  abstract  reasoning 
i>  in  iUclf  without  gain,  carrying  us  as  it  does  around  in  a  circle, 
and  having  us  at  last  where  we  began.  But  what  of  it?  The 
heart  has  something  to  say  as  well  as  the  head.  Feeling  is  as  much 
t»f  life  as  thinking.  The  thiiigs  which  can  be  proved  or  disproved 
are  only  a  small  segment  of  this  big  v/orld.  That  which  has 
power,  though  it  be  outside  the  demonstrable  realm,  is  for  us,  and 
if  its  power  be  good,  it  is  the  highest  wisdom  to  hold  to  it.  Such 
i>  the  doctrine  of  the  future  life.  The  heart  hopes.  Its  hope  is 
beneficent.    It  is  the  key  that  unlocks  the  subtle  meaning  of  life. 

ill.  Such,  I  think,  is  a  fairly  accurate  following  of  the 
current  of  thought  in  ''La  Saisiaz."  With  this  wc  might  be  con- 
lout  except  that  in  a  poem  of  this  chaiacter  is  the  light  which  the 
\"x-i  throws  not  oidy  on  the  subject  in  hand  but  also  on  himself. 


118  Melliodlst  Bcview  [Janunrj 

Browning's  writings  are  peculiar  from  the  way  in  which  they  reveal 
him.  Shakespeare  was  an  adept  in  taking  up  diverse  characters  and 
making  them  project  thcniselvcs,  and  so  skillfully  that  one  never 
thinks  of  Shakespeare  being  around.  Shakespeare  makes  his 
characters  live  in  and  for  and  by  themselves.  Browning  is  always 
j^resent.  Ilis  name  is  not  set  down,  but  we  feel  him,  no  matter 
who  is  the  medium,  and  we  are  glad  that  it  is  so.  His  mission 
requires  it.  God  has  spoken  to  Browning.  Xo  man  can  interpret 
this  voice  without  being  infused  with  the  Browning  spirit.  In 
other  words,  Shakespeare  would  have  us  see  men  as  they  are, 
Browning  as  they  ought  to  be.  One  is  impressed  in  this  poem 
with  the  total  man  who  speaks  in  it.  Browning's  man  is  a  com- 
plete man,  physically,  intellectually,  and  spiritually.  The  poem 
opens  with  the  physical  achievement  of  a  mountain  ascent,  is  early 
one  third  of  the  poem  is  devoted  to  showing  the  pleasures  of 
physical  sense.  The  other  two  parts  are  about  equally  divided 
between  intellectual  and  soul  demands.  This  appreciation  of  the 
total  man  makes  Browning  one  of  the  healthiest  and  most  robust 
of  teachers.  He  is  not  a  pale,  secluded  monk,  disregarding  or 
despising  the  llosh.  He  will  not  allow  the  niind  to  ignore  the 
tuggings  of  the  heart.  Such  a  habit  makes  a  man,  a  full  and  a 
real  man,  not  an  atrophied  phenomenon.  And  such  a  view  only 
is  at  all  adequate  to  solve  the  problems  of  life.  God  has  adjusted 
man  to  three  realms,  the  physical,  the  intellectual,  and  the  spiritual, 
and  to  omit  the  requirements  of  any  one  of  these,  in  attempts  to 
set  men  right  or  improve  their  condition,  is  a  guarantee  of  partial 
or  total  failure.  The  poem  is  a  most  beautiful  illustration  of 
Browning's  easy  and  perfect  interfusion  of  the  natural  and  spirit- 
ual. He  passes  from  one  into  the  other  without  the  slightest  jar. 
Both  are  real  to  him,  and  one  as  real  as  the  other.  His  spiritual 
is  natural,  and  his  natural  is  spiritual.  Xature  is  not  to  him 
merely  a  source  of  illustration,  as  often  with  Tennyson,  or  with 
\Yordsworth.  The  spiritual  is  not  stuck  on,  as  wings  on  fancied 
angels.  He  is  just  as  religious  when  he  is  making  the  mountain 
ascent,  and 

Ledge  by  ledge  out  broke  new  marvels,  now  minute  and  now  immense, 
Earth's  most  exquisite  disclosure,  heaven's  own  God  in  evidence. 


lino] 


La  Saisiaz  119 


as  li<>  is  natural  when  he  says, 

I'lulnlier:   if  this  life's  conception  new  life  fail  to  realize,  .  .  . 
I  must  say — or  choke  in  silence — "Howsoever  came  my  fate. 
Sorrow  did  mid  joy  did  nowise— life  well  weighed — preponderate." 

This  easy  transition  between  the  natural  and  spiritual,  with  equal 
rrviTciicc  for  both,  grows  out  of  two  things:  his  clear  insight  into 
l.oth  and  his  deep  conviction  that 

truth  is  truth  in  each  degree — 
Thunder-pealed  by  God  to  Nature,  whispered  by  my  soul  to  me. 

With  regard  to  the  principle  or  doctrine  which  Browning 
--(•ts  up  as  the  starting  point  of  inquiry  into  life's  proLlems, 
Ilrr-wning  is  not  an  egoist  or  individualist  to  the  extent  that  he 
njccts  all  external  knowledge.  lie  gives  a  fair  and  patient 
hearing  to  outside  voices,  often  setting  fbrth  their  positions  with 
great  subtlety  and  force.  He  weighs  and  considers  the  experiences 
and  convictions  of  the  world.  He  consults  every  material  fact, 
I'Ut  only  to  arrive  with  more  certainty  at  the  point  that  life  and 
its  problems  are  to  be  interpreted  by  what  his  soul  says,  and  what 
I  hey  mean  to  him  and  do  for  him  as  a  man.  He  looks  in.  He 
inakes  much  of  the  still  small  voice.  He  talks  to  and  with  him- 
H.lf,  not  as  Emerson,  who  would  make  himself  the  all-important 
center  of  the  universe  of  which  God  is  only  a  hazy  periphery,  but 
himself  as  the  reflecter  of  divine  thought  and  the  handiwork  of 
^'ud.  Thus  looking  into  himself  as  the  supreme  arbiter  of  thought, 
weighing  doubts  of  reason,  restraining  fits  of  fancy,  viewing  the 
intermixture  of  good  and  evil  in  the  world,  and  considering  the 
d.  niands  of  the  heart  and  soul,  Browning  takes  firmly  the  stand- 
i'-int  of  faith. 


120  Methodist  Bevievj  [January 

EDITORIAL   DEPARTMENTS 


NOTES   AND   DISCUSSIONS 


Amoxg  the  many  publications  of  our  Book  Concern  none  is  more 
valuable  than  the  ilethodist  Year  Book,  edited  by  Professor  S.  V.  E. 
Ford.    Price,  20  cents,  net ;  bv  mail,  25  cents. 


Hexry  Dkummoxd  -sv-rote  truly  :  "To  fall  in  love  with  a  good  book 
is  one  of  tlic  greatest  evt^nts  that  can  befall  us.  It  is  to  have  a  new 
influence  pouring  itself  into  our  life — a  new  teacher  to  inspire  and 
refine  us,  a  new  friend  to  be  by  our  side  always,  who,  when  life  grows 
narrow  and  vreary,  will  take  us  into  his  wider  and  calmer  and  higher 
Avorld." 


Hexry  James  says  of  A.  C.  Swinburne's  prose,  "He  narrowly 
misses  having  a  magniik-ent  style.  On  the  imaginative  side  it  is 
almost  complete,  and  seems  capable  of  doing  everything  that  pictur- 
esqueness  demands."  Few  men  Avho  are  M'riting  to-day  could  produce 
this  description  of  a  thunderstorm  at  sea : 

"About  midnight  the  thimdercloud  was  full  overhead,  full  of 
incessant  sound  and  fire,  liglitening  and  darkening  so  rapidly  that  it 
seemed  to  have  life,  and  a  delight  in  its  life.  At  the  same  hour,  the 
sky  was  dear  to  tlie  west,  and  all  along  the  sealine  there  sprang  and 
sank  as  to  music  a  restless  dance  or  chase  of  summer  lightnings  across 
the  lower  sky :  a  race  and  riot  of  lights,  beautiful  and  rapid  as  a  course 
of  shining  oceanidcs  along  the  tremulous  floor  of  the  sea.  Eastward, 
at  the  same  moment,  the  space  of  clear  stv  was  higher  and  wider,  a 
splendid  semicircle  of  too  intense  purity  to  be  called  blue;  it  was  of  no 
color  namable  by  man;  and  midway  in  it,  between  the  stars  and  the 
sea,  hung  the  motionless  full  moon;  Arteniis  watching  with  serene 
splendor  of  scorn  the  battle  of  Titans  and  the  revel  of  nymphs  from 
her  stainless  and  01ymi>ian  summit  of  divine  indifferent  light.  Un- 
derneath and  about  us,  the  sea  was  paved  with  flame;  the  whole  water 
trembled  and  hissed  with  phosphoric  fire;  even  through  the  wind  and 
thunder  ]  could  hear  the  crackling  and  sputtering  of  the  water-sparks. 
In  the  same  heaven  and  in  the  same  hour  there  shone  at  once  the  threg 


]010]  I\o(rs  and  Disciitisio)is  121 

C'>i:trasled  glories,  golden  and  fiery  and  vliite,  of  moonliglit,  and  of 
tiic  double  liglitning,  forked  aiid  sheet;  and  under  all  this  miraculous 
licavcn  lay  a  flaming  floor  of  water." 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  THE  FATHERSi 

The  fathers  of  American  Metliodism !  "What  a  glorious  record  is 
theirs!  How  good  to  gaze  upon  their  deeds  and  seek  counsel  at  tiieir 
foft!  North,  South,  East,  West  they  pushed  their  victorious  battle. 
They  conducted  a  spiritual  campaign  that  has  no  parallel.  They  in- 
vadi'd  the  strongholds  of  sin  and  wrested  triumphs  from  desperate 
o(.nditions,  in  the  ''teeth  of  clinched  antagonisms"  that  would  have 
daunted  less  heroic  souls.  Most  vigorous  their  impact  upon  the  in- 
t  renched  forces  of  theological  Calvinism  in  Xew  England  and  practical 
lieatiienism  everywhere.  They  knew  well  what  it  was  to  sufi'er  and  be 
Kn.ing;  they  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  fear  and  defeat.  Their 
darings  and  endurings  amaze  us.  .As  we  closely  follow  the  narrative 
our  tears  and  our  shouts  can  scarcely  be  restrained.  The  pioneer 
j*eriod  is  crowded  with  marvels.  The  more  one  reads  that  ancient 
s-tory,  the  more  one  feels  that  our  gospel  liberty  has  heen  purchased  at 
a  great  price,  that  our  modern  privileges  in  these  pleasanter  conditions 
iiave  been  v/on  at  a  c-ostly  sacrifice  by  noble  men  who  most  thoroughly 
put  aside  worldly  ease  and  honor  in  the  service  of  their  Master. 
'"Troubled  on  every  side  yet  not  distressed,  perplexed  but  not  in 
de-pair,  persecuted  but  not  forsaken,  cast  down  but  not  destroyed," 
proving  themselves  as  the  ministers  of  God  in  much  patience,  in 
tumults,  in  labors,  in  watchings,  in  fastings,  by  evil  report  and  good 
report,  "as  poor  yet  making  many  rich,  as  having  nothing  and  yet  pos- 
f=e.~?iiig  all  things,"  in  lalwrs  abundant,  in  journeyings  often,  in  many 
perils,  in  weariness  and  painfulness,  with  no  certain  dwelling  place, 
f"ols  for  Christ's  sake,  becoming  all  things  to  all  men  that  they  might 
by  all  means  save  some,  the  Spirit  of  glory  and  of  God  rested  richly 
'i[^on  them,  while  they  committed  the  keeping  of  their  souls  in  well 
doing  to  their  faithful  Creator,  who  granted  them  abundant  witness 
liiat  their  labor  was  acceptable  in  the  Lord,  and  gave  them,  when  their 
v^ork  was  done,  a  crown  of  radiant  glory  at  his  right  hand. 

The  victories  of  our  predecessors  on  the  field  prove  that  what 

'Part  of  tin  address  delivcrod  by  Dr.  Janirs  Miidge  bpforc  the  Tfinrrants'  Club  of  t))e 
•  Pw  i.t>Klaii:l  Conference.     Not  having  room  elsewhere  we  insert  it  in  our  editorial  department. 


l<22  ^       Meihodisi  Ileview  [January 

ought  to  be  done  can  be  doi)e;  that,  however  slender  the  resources, 
and  liou-cvor  imposing  tlic  obstacles,  if  there  be  truth  and  faith,  there 
^vill  be  triumph.     This  was  indeed  demonstrated  long  ago  by  the 
apostolic  band  in  their  siege  of  the  Roman  empire,  by  Luther  in  his 
assault  upon  tlie  mighty  towers  of   Ptomanism,   and  by  Wesley  in 
England.    We  may  well  lay  it  to  heart  now  in  our  own  conflicts.    Our 
fathers  had  complete  faith  in  their  mission  and  their  message.    They 
fully  believed  they  were  needed  here,  that  there  was  a  great  work  to 
be  done,  and  that  they  were  the  men  to  do  it.     They  had  a  cause  for 
which  they  were  fully  willing  to  die.    They  paid  no  heed  to  difliculties 
and  discouragements.    They  simply  pressed  on,  and  on,  and  on,  and  on. 
They  would  not  suffer  themselves  to  be  turned  aside  from  their  great 
object  by  anything  whatsoever.    To  that  which  God  had  called  them  to- 
do  they  conimitted  themselves  unstintedly,  persistently,  prevailingly. 
Tliey  had  a  measureless  love  for  the  Saviour  and  an  absorbing  passion 
for  souls.    The  mighty  Spirit  of  God  was  upon  them  working  in  them 
and  through  thcm.^  They  were  filled  with  fire  and  fervor  and  fearless- 
ness, with  an  undying  devotion  and  a  tireless  energy,  with  a  purpose 
both  sublime  and  intense,  with  an  irresistible  eagerness  to  fuliill  their 
calling.    As  a  company  of  men  they  have  scarcely  been  surpassed  since 
the  days  of  the  apostles,  and  perhaps  not  then.     This  at  least  is  the 
impression  they  make  upon  us.    There  was  a  tremendous  vitality  th.ere, 
somethiug  electric,  magnetic,  magnificent.    They  were  in  dead  earnest. 
The  momentum  of  the  movement  was  immense.     The  men  on  horse- 
back, the  circuit  riders,  were  a  conquering  cavalry  and  charged  home 
with  ]X)wer.     The  saddle-bag  brigade  was  a  thundering  legion,  and 
the  lightning  of  their  word  slew  multitudes.     They  were  knights,  not 
of  a  table  round,  but  of  a  round  or  circuit  terrible  in  its  exactions 
and  sufferings,  its  pains  and  perils  and  privations,  but  terrible  also  m 
its  executions  and  master  strokes  of  conquest. 

And  the  question  imperatively  arises— for  it  is  certainly  well  to 
compare  tlie  past  with  the  present,  and  let  history  give  up  to  us  some- 
thing of  its  hoary  and  hoarded  wisdom— have  we  the  same  spirit? 
It  is'^not  a  question  to  be  easily  or  lightly  answered.  Many  considera- 
tions enter  into  the  matter.  There  is  always  a  glamour  over  the  past, 
a  fact  which  we  should  fully  recognize;  there  is  an  enchantment  lent 
by  distance;  the  evils  of  those  days,  the  things  that  if  better  known 
would  discount  our  admiration,  are  not  clearly  discerned,  or  are  wholly 
forgotten.  The  present,  by  its  very  familiarity,  stands  at  a  disad- 
vantage.    Tlien,  again,  we  must  remember,  the  same  spirit  will,  of 


^.)jQ-j  Notes  and  Discussions  123 

nocesi^ily,  manifest  itself  clilfereDtly,  take  on  dissimilar  shapes,  under 
ilifi'ercnt  conditions.  We  have  no  wisli  to  repeat  tlie  conditions  of 
the  past,  the  ignorance,  the  poverty,  the  hardsliip.  We  live,  tliank  God, 
ill  bettor  times,  so  far  as  material  circumstances  are  concerned. 
Higher  culture  and  larger  means  make  impossible,  as  well  as  unneces- 
sary, some  of  tlie  doings  of  other  days.  Still  again,  it  is  easy  to  con- 
found fuudamentnls  and  accidentals,  to  conclude  that  because  there 
has  been  a  wide  departure  in  regard  to  certain  nonessential,  unim- 
portant things,  there  has,  therefore,  necessarily  been  a  corresponding 
dislovalty  in  essentials.  This  would  be  a  serious  mistake,  but  it  is  often 
made. 

It  is  well,  then,  for  our  guidance,  it  is,  indeed,  necessary,  to  in- 
quire, just  at  tliis  point.  What  are  the  real  essentials  of  primitive 
Motliodism  ?  What  are  those  things  that  are  so  fundamentally  typical 
that  without  them  it  cannot  be  the  same,  but  must  be  something  in- 
k-rior?  Three  things,  it  seems  to  us,  have  a  claim  to  this  high  distinc- 
tion. In  the  first  place,  Christian  experience,  personal,  positive,  defi- 
nite, and  glowing.  From  the  beginning  Methodism's  emphasis  on  this 
has  been  its  primary  idea,  its  chief  contribution  to  the  life  and  thought 
f.f  the  church  universal.  It  is  this  Christian  experience  which  has  given 
to  Methodist  preaching  its  greatest  power;  it  is  this  which  has  lain  at 
the  root  of  its  most  peculiar  institutions;  it  is  this  -(vhich  has  mainly 
shaped  its  doctrines.*  In  the  second  place,  there  has  been  zeal,  all- 
consuming,  quenchless,  lurainant,  producing  an  aggressive  evangelism, 
an  incessant  activity,  a  readiness  to  sacrifice  self,  which  made  the 
trials  of  the  itinerant  easy  and  the  burdens  of  the  laity  light.  "Chris- 
tianity in  earnest"  it  was  called,  and  its  members  were  said  to  be 
"all  at  it  and  always  at  it."  Those  familiar  phrases  go  far  in  the  way 
«.f  explaining  the  success  reached.  They  go  to  the  root  of  the  matter 
aiul  when  they  cease  to  be  applicable  to  us  we  shall  have  radically 
•  departed  from  old-time  :Methodism.  In  the  third  place  we  must  put 
our  system  of  doctrine,,  scriptural,  preachablc,  practical,  effective,  and 
thnroughly  reasonable.  Whether  our  fathers  were  strictly  orthodox 
or  not,  according  to  the  usually  accepted  interpretation  of  that  term, 
tlK'V  did  not  curiously  or  carefully  inquire.  Indeed,  they  were  com- 
iiioidy  accounted,  as  they  knew,  terrible  heretics  by  those  who  plumed 
tbiuisclves  on  their  orthodoxy  and  laid  exclusive  claim  to  that  name; 
J'Ut  this  did  not  trouble  them  in  the  slightest  degree.  They  were 
bont  on  Paving  men,  and  the  teachings  that  worked  well  for  this  pur- 
|>"-('  had  all  the  divine  guarantee  that  tiiey  deemed  necessary.    A  pro- 


124  Methodist  Review  [January 

grossive  conservatism  marked  them  in  this,  as  it  did  in  their  ecclesi- 
astical polity.  They  ■were  not  afraid  of  changes  in  doctrine  or  dis- 
cipline if  so  be  tliat  the  change  gave  promise  of  better  results;  nor  were 
they  quick  to  discard  the  old  simply  because  its  workings  were  attended 
with  dilTiculties  and  were  not  entirely  ideal. 

Now,  wherever  these  three  things  abide,  it  seems  to  the  v/i'itcr,  we 
have  all  that  is  essential  to  constitute  old-time  Methodism,  and  to 
acquit  us  from  the  charge  of  fatal  departures  therefrom.  Do  they 
abide?  Do  they?  Our  answer  must  be.  They  do  abide  in  large  meas- 
ure, but  tliere  is  pressing  need  of  their  immediate  increase.  The  spirit 
of  the  fathers  is  here  to-day  decpl}',  but  it  lacks  much  of  the  oppor- 
tunity for  manifestation  and  development  which  was  given  to  tliem. 
Circumstances  very  largely  create  heroes,  or  at  least  bring  to  fruition 
the  heroic  germs  v»hicli  otherwise  would  have  slumbered  or  perished 
within  them.  All  history  teaches  this.  Lincoln  and  Grant  would  not 
have  been  discovei-ed,  either  to  tliemselves  or  to  the  world,  for  what 
we  know  them,  had  they  lived  in  an  ordinary  period.  The  men  of  '61, 
it  proved,  were  as  ready  to  die  for  their  country  as  tlie  men  of  '76, 
althougli  before  tlie  flag  was  fired  upon  many  doubted  it,  and  no  one 
could  be  entirely  sure.  And  who  can  really  question  that  there  would 
be  as  prompt  a  response  to-day  as  then  if  the  liberties  of  the  land  were 
actually  endangered  ?  Even  so,  we  are  disposed  to  think  that  the  race 
of  heroes  and  prophets  and  martyrs  has  not  at  all  died  out  in  the 
^]n^rch,  any  more  than  in  the  nation,  while  the  generations  have  been 
rolling  on.  We  believe  the  sons  are  fully  qualified  to  stand  beside  their 
sires.  We  believe'this  heartily,  and  yet  we  cannot  wholly  refrain  from 
adding  that  there  are  certain  tenilencies  at  work  in  these  days  which 
make  for  degeneration,  which  make  it  peculiarly  difficult  for  us  to 
maintain  ^Methodism  in  its  pristine  purity,  and  there  are  certain  devel- 
opments which  unless  checked  will  lead  to  disaster.  It  must  be  ad- 
mitted tliat  increased  material  resources  and  magnified  fortunes,  a 
place  in  the  seats  of  power  and  in  the  halls  of  the  learned,  are  ex- 
tremely liable  to  diminish  spirituality.  It  is  so  with  individuals,  it 
is  so  with  organizations.  Vri:on  Christianity  mounted  the  throne  of 
the  Caesars  it  deteriorated.  An  established  church,  as  a  rule,  is  a 
worldly  one.  We  are  in  substantially  that  position,  and  are  feeling 
those  effects.  There  is  not  the  emphasis  placed  on  personal  experience 
and  its  proclamation  tliat  once  there  was.  Tiic  decadence  of  the 
class  meeting,  the  falling  oif  at  tlie  prayer  meeting,  the  passing  of 
family  prayers,  tlie  disuse  of  fasting  or  abstinence,  the  infrequcncy  of 


\\)l()]  Notes  and  Discussions  125 

Mio  love  feast,  are  tokens  of  tliis  tendency.  Nor  have  we  the  all-eon- 
jiuiiiin;,'  zeal  of  early  days.  "\Vc  sec  it  now  among  the  Socialists  and 
SuflVagcttes  much  more  than  among  the  Methodists.  It  is  they,  not 
wc,  who  are  full  charged  with  a  high  purpose  which  will  not  let  them 
rc.'^t,  a  purpose  whose  fierce  onrush  carries  them  off  their  feet  and 
lifts  them  above  themselves,  and  provokes  them  to  indiscretions.  "We 
have  dropped  our  indiscretions,  our  peculiarities,  perhaps  are  a  little 
o.'^liainod  of  them^  have  settled  down  to  be  like  the  denominations 
around  us,  have  become  increasingly  conformed  to  their  ways,  even  as 
they  have  increasingly  adopted  ours.  Doctrinally,  too,  we  are  in  some 
danger,  a  danger  of  losing  in  the  midst  of  modern  adjustments — 
which,  however  necessary,  are  perilous — that  firm  grip  on  the  great 
essentials  which  must  at  all  risks  be  maintained,  and  that  once  was 
far  easier  than  now.  There  is  still  need  that  we  sing  Faber's  familiar, 
forceful  lines, 

Faith  of  our  fathci-s,  holy  faith, 
We  -will  be  true  to  Thoe  till  death. 

The  skepticism  of  the  time  has  made  some  inroads,  and  should  be 
vigorously  resisted,  not  in  the  interest  of  lx»ndage  to  outworn  symbols 
or  empty  phrases  and  impossible  dogmas,  but  in  the  interest  of  loyalty 
to  the  King  and  the  truths  that  take  hold  on  salvation. 

Our  problem  is  how  to  combine  with  our  present  citlture  and 
larger  means  the  old  simplicity  and  intensit}^  the  former  fa'ith  and 
frpj^hness  "and  fervor,  the  inwrought  experience  and  outspoken  testi- 
mony. A  clear  head  and  a  clean  heart,  solid  learning  and  profound  feel- 
ing— can  tlicse  things  go  together  ?  Our  problem  is  to  make  them ;  and, 
in  these  very  unheroic  times,  to  develop  and  exploit  the  heroic  spirit. 
It  purely  is  not  necessary,  though  easy,  to  sacrifice  the  good  things 
of  the  ])ast  in  order  to  attain  or  retain  the  good  things  of  the  pres- 
ent. We  have  yielded  to  this  tendency  in  too  large  a  measure.  "We 
must  call  a  halt  in  this  direction.  The  demoralization  of  prosperity 
is  somewhat  upon  us.  What  will  save  us  from  the  worldliness  and 
decay  which  threaten?  What  will  bring  back  more  of  the  old-time 
^eligion?  Fuller  acquaintance  with  that  time  will  certainly  help. 
Alcibiades,  the  Athenian,  declared  that  the  victories  of  ^liltiades 
would  not  permit  him  to  sleep.  Are  we  sleeping?  We  should  not 
take  such  comfortable  naps  were  the  victories  of  our  fathers  more 
constantly  before  us.  Wordsworth  sings,  concerning  an  incident  in 
Knglifh  liistory  connected  with  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster, 


126  Methodist  Ficvicw  [January 

Armor  rustinj;  in  his  halls 
On  the  blood  of  Cliflord  calls  : 
"Quell  the  Scol,"  exclaims  the  Inuce; 
"Bear  me  to  the  heart  of  France," 
Is  the  lonjrius  of  tlie  shield. 
Tell  thy  name,  thou  trembling  Field  ; 
Field  of  death,  where'er  thou  be, 
Groan  thou  with  our  victory. 

We,  who  wield  not  lance  and  shield,  hut  spirilnal  weapons  of  finer 
fiber,  may  and  should  likewise  feel  the  call  to  emulate  the  achieve- 
ments of  our  predecessors.  The  past  speaks,  to  some  of  us  very 
loudly.  ^lay  it  speedily  speak  tn  all,  and  to  good  effect.  If  "the  glory 
of  the  children  are  tlieir  fathers,"  as  the  Scripture  saith,  it  is  also 
true  that  the  glory  of  the  fathers  is  to  have  children  worthy  to  bear 
their  names.  "Our  fathers  trusted  in  thee,  they  trusted  in  thee  and. 
thou  didst  deliver  them."  Yes,  yes;  and  God  will  equally  deliver  us 
if  we  equally  trust  in  him  and  work  for  him,  will  be  with  us  as  he 
was  with  them,  so  that  we  too  may  declare  to  the  generation  follow- 
ing us,  with  similar  satisfaction,  his  mighty  acts  and  marvelous  deeds. 
"These  all,  having  obtained  a  good  report  through  faith  received  not 
the  promise,  God  havhig  provided  some  better  thing  for  us  that  they 
without  us  should  not  be  made  perfect"  (Ileb.  11.  30^  40).  . 

"We  must  not  rest  in  the  achievements  of  the  past,  nor  look  upon 
them  as  unapproachable;  no,  ratlier  let  us  learn  from  the  past  how  to 
surpass  it.  In  some  particulars  we  have  made  glorious  advances. 
There  is  a  higher  plane  of  morals  in  both  membership  and  ministry. 
There  are  fewer  expulsions,  fewer  church  trials,  fewer  fanaticisms  and 
eccentricities.  There  is  less  intolerance,  crudity,  cantankerousness, 
contentiousness,  coarseness.  We  have  finer  temples  in  which  to  wor- 
ship God.  We  have  great  universities  and  hospitals,  and  a  muHi- 
plicity  of  institutions,  of  organizations,  whereby  to  upbuild  the  nation 
and  benefit  mankind.  But  whether,  on  the  whvole,  in  real  religion,  in 
genuine  piety,  in  deep  spiritualit}',  we  are  better,  who  shall -say?  No 
one,  perhaps,  is  competent  to  give  a  dogmatic  answer,  or  to  speak 
otherwise  than  cautiously  on  that  point.  No  one  has  a  sufficiently 
extensive  and  minute  knowledge  of  both  periods,  of  the  inward  motives 
as  well  as  the  outward  manners  of  both,  to  pronounce  positively  and 
conclusively  on  that  subject. 

But  this  at  least,  we  think,  may  be  confidently  said:  In  proportion 
as  the  spirit  which  was  so  prominently  stamped  upon  the  church  of 
that  age  is  predominant  now  we  sliall  conquer  the  world  for  Christ. 


i'.»10]  jLVotes  a?}d  Discussions  127 

With  our  increased  wealth,  education,  and  other  advantages,  if  we 
Imvo  the  old-time  spirit,  we  shall  sweep  everything  before  us.  We  are 
not  hearing  the  burdens  or  making  the  sacrifices  that  they  did.  Per- 
hap.^^  we  see  no  need  so  to  do.  We  say  there  is  nothing  now  which 
(i.iiiands  it.  But  may  it  not  be  that  this  very  attitude,  tliis  too  easy- 
going feeling,  indicates  a  blindness,  a  deafness,  a  dullness  on  our  part, 
iind  is  cue  of  the  things  we  should  most  jealously  watch  against?  Is 
there  not  a  great  call  for  heroism  now?  Has  the  earth  yet  been  con- 
quered for  Christ?  Has  even  America  been  sufficiently  saved  from 
her  pins?  Have  all  the  achievements  that  arc  worth  while  been 
\vn)Ught?  Xo,  a  thousand  times,  no!  Xo  more  in  spiritual  than  in 
pliysical  things  is  this  true.  Have  not  the  physical  triumphs  of  tlie 
iiast  decade  surpassed  and  shamed  the  spiritual?  We  are  mastering 
»!oc(ricity,  we  are  conquering  the  air,  we  are  discovering  the  poles. 
Wliat  corresponds  to  these  in  religion?  We  are  summoned  to  take 
the  world  for  Jesus,  tlie  world  at  home  and  abroad.  It  lies  about  us 
and  beyond  us  most  invitingly.  The  fields  are  white  for  the  harvest. 
Tlie  laborers  are  still  much  too  few.  More  volunteers  are  needed  for 
foreign  missions,  man}'  more,  more  also  for  the  destitute  districts  of 
the  home  lands,  for  slujn  work,  for  the  wide  frontier,  for  the  foreign 
Pco])]l'  that  throng  our  streets.  Ten  times  as  much  money  as  ap- 
pears to  be  forthcoming  is  an  absolute  necessity  if  the  large  tasks 
tiiat  await  us  are  to  be  mastered.  In  giving  the  funds,  or  in  raising 
ihrin,  or  in  doing  other  hard  things  that  should  be  done  now,  there 
may  be  as  much  heroism  exhibited  as  there  ever  was  in  threading  the 
thickets,  or  swimming  the  rivers,  or  climbing  the  mountains,  or  sleep- 
ing under  the  stars.  The  stern  word  of  the  prophet  still  needs  to  be 
uttered,  and  that  word  is  never  a  popular  one.  True  patriotism,  we 
.'•ay,  is  seen  as  much  in  tlie  purification  of  politics  and  the  deliverance 
of  ib.c  people  from  the  oppressions  of  corporate  greed  as  on  the  battle- 
lield  or  tlie  firing  line.  Even  so,  true  devotion  to  Christ  can  be 
displayed  in  a  multitude  of  ways.  The  vital  question  is,  are  we  re- 
s'i»<>nding  as  promptly  and  eagerly  to  tlie  calls  of  God  which  our  cir- 
I'nnstances  make  imperative  as  did  those  who  went  before  us  to  the 
•^fllls  which  pressed  mightily  upon  them? 

Wc  owe  a  great  debt  to  the  fathers,  to  those  godly  men,  alert, 
alive,  elastic,  apostolic,  ever  ready,  afraid  of  nothing.  Thsy  declared 
the  v.'hole  counsel  of  God,  they  ])reachcd  an  undiluted  gospel,  they  un- 
covered the  pit  of  woe,  they  opened  the  gates  of  paradise  with  the 
i'Tvor  of  I'aul,  the  pathos  of  John,  the  sternness  of  James,  the  rock- 


128  Methodist.  L'cview  [January 

strength  of  Tcter.  They  told  men  of  their  lost  condition  and  its 
only  remedy.  They  proclaimed  free  grace  and  dying  love,  the  cross 
of  Jesus  and  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  deliverance  from  all  sin 
and  the  full  reign  of  perfect  peace.  You  feel  as  you  study  them  that 
they  were  terribly  in  earnest,  that  they  were  not  thinking  of  them- 
selves, that  tliey  held  their  lives  cheap,  and  lived  in  constant  com- 
munion with  God.  How  much  they  prayed!  How  grandly  they 
sang!  How  full  they  were  of  faith,  and  of  hope,  and  of  hallelujahs  I 
They  said : 

The  love  of  Clnist  cloth  mo  constrain 
To  sock  the  wandering  souls  of  men  : 
With  cries,  entreaties,  tears,  to  save — 
To  snatch  llieni  from  the  saping  grave. 

For  this  let  men  revile  mj-  name; 
No  cross  I  shun,  I  fear  no  shame ; 
All  hail  reproach,  and  welcome  pain; 
Only  thy  terrors,  Lord,  restrain! 

My  life,  my  blood,  I  here  present, 
If  for  Thy  truth  they  may  be  spent; 
Fulfill  Thy  sovereign  counsel,  Lord  ; 
Thy  will  be  done,  Thy  name  adored. 

Give  me  Thy  strength,  O  God  of  power; 
Then  let  winds  blow,  or  thuuders  roar, 
Thy  faithful  witness  I  will  be; 
'Tis  fixed:  I  can  do  all  through  Thee. 

This  was  "their  sjjiril.  Tlity  felt  tliat  the  King's  business  could  not 
wait.  Their  hcadquaitcrs  were  in  the  saddle.  They  followed  the 
counsel  which  Wesley  wrote  to  George  Sliadford.  They  published  their 
message  in  the  open  face  of  the  sun  and  did  all  the  good  they  could. 
Joshua  Marsden,  of  tlio  British  Conference,  who  visited  the  United 
States  in  180-2,  wrote  of  t'lo  preachers  whom  he  met,  "I  was  greatly 
Furpri?cd  at  such  example?  of  simplicity,  labor,  and  self-denial.  They 
ap]K'ared  as  much  dead  to  llie  world  as  though  they  had  been  the  in- 
habitants of  another  planet.  In  England  Methodism  is  like  a  river 
calmly  gliding  on;  here  it  is  a  torrent  rushing  on  and  sweeping  all 
away  in  its  course.  In  t!ie  great  woj-k  of  awakening  careless  sinners 
and  ins])iring  the  new  settlcnients  the  Methodists  have  no  equals.'"' 
Could  a  visitor  to  these  shores  now  hear  as  strong  a  testimony  to  our 
liigh  qualities  and  our  grand  achievements?  It  is  well  for  us  to 
meditate  a  good  while  upon  this  question. 

The  fathers  have  IcTt  a  mighty  niDUumcnt.     When  can  their  glory 


KUO]  Notes  and  Discussions  129 

fade?  Time  may  mar  the  mar])le  tliat  marks  their  resting  place,  the 
incctingliouses  tliat  they  reared  may  turn  to  dust,  the  records  that 
they  made  with  pen  or  type  may  be  lost  to  human  vision.  Nevertheless, 
th(!y  themselves  shall  ever  live — live  in  the  millions  whom  they  drew 
into  a  divine  fcllowsliip,  live  in  the  flames  new  kindled  on  a  thousand 
altars,  live  in  the  whole  Christian  Church  which  felt  the  glorious  im- 
pulse of  their  labors,  and  in  the  Avorld,  wliich  is  a  different  place,  a 
better  place  to  live  in,  because  they  toiled.  It  is  for  us  to  be  stirred 
by  their  deeds,  to  be  made  ashamed  of  our  littleness  as  we  see  their 
largeness,  to  be  set  on  fire  with  love  divine  as  we  see  how  closely  they 
walked  with  God.  They  call  to  us — Asbury  and  Lee  and  Pickering, 
llcdding  and  Soule  and  Fisk,  McKendree  and  Cartwright  and  Fiuley. 
They  say:  "Build  carefully  on  the  foundations  which  we  laid  with 
our  toils  and  tears.  Let  not  Methodism  be  turned  out  of  the  channel 
which  we  dug  for  it  at  such  heavy  cost;  let  no  alien  standards  be 
reared  where  we  held  aloft  the  banner  of  the  Christ." 

We  must  heed  their  monition.  "We  must.  Yve  have  a  great  trust. 
Great  resources  are  ours  and  grave  responsibilities.  Our  mission  is 
by  no  means  ended,  either  to  the  world  at  large  or  to  other  denomina- 
tions who  have  already  gained  so  much  from  their  association  with  \is. 
We  have  done  a  mighty  work.  There  is  still  a  mighty  work  to  do. 
We  must  magnify'  our  mission  and  our  place  among  men.  We  must 
look  up  and  speak  out.  Above  all,  we  must  conserve  our  spiritual  life. 
Fir.^t,  the  kingdom!  Eternal  interests  must  be  paramount.  Things 
must  not  get  into  the  saddle.  The  soul  must  rule.  Even  social  service, 
and  humanitarian  or  philanthropic  endeavjrs,  mi\st  not  be  allowed 
to  thi-ust  aside  fellowship  witli  the  Infinite,  reverent  worship  of  tlie 
Creator,  purification  of  the  heart,  a  life  free  from  all  unrighteous- 
ness. If  we  let  our  spiritual  temperature  be  lowered  to  the  philo- 
sophical frigidities  of  the  day,  we  shall  fail.  The  old-time  battle  cry, 
shouted  at  the  campmeeting  and  the  altar,  was  "Holiness  to  the 
Ix)rd!"  It  still  should  have  place  at  tlie  front.  Its  absence  is  not  a 
good  omen.  The  ph.rases  of  the  former  time,  it  is  true,  were  not  all  of 
them  theologically  accurate;  the  teinis  used  were  scarcely  scriptural  in 
the  sense  put  upon  them ;  many  of  the  expressions  we  should  now  find 
objectionable,  indefensible,-untenablc;  but  the  experience  was  genuine 
Jnul  unspeakably  precious  and  a  power  was  undeniably  imparted  tliat 
\\o  greatly  need.  We  can  better  afford  to  put  up  with  some  cnulitics 
of  language  (although,  of  course,  the  less  of  this  the  better)  than  to 
h*-^'  the  very  crown  of  redemption  and  the  vital  earnestness  of  an 


130  Methodist  Jlcview  [January 

uncompromising  religion.  To  be  completely  saved  each  moment  up 
to  all  attainable  light,  to  permit  ourselves  no  doubtful  indulgences, 
to  be  consecrated  and  purified  in  the  largest  sense  made  known  to  us 
by  the  Spirit  as  our  privilege — surely,  this  is  a  plain  duty,  and  on 
no  account  to  be  neglected  or  thrust  into  the  background.  Our  camp- 
meetings  once  wcYG  signalized  by  these  victories,  our  church  alters 
and  prayer  mecting.s  knew  the  joyful  sound.  Can  it  not  be  brought 
back?  It  must  be  if  we  are  to  have  the  highest  and  largest  success. 
Our  aim  must  be  to  grasp  all  the  good  there  was  in  the  past,  while 
keeping  clear  of  its  deficiencies;  to  have  the  burning  heart  without 
the  wild  fire,  the  zeal  combined  with  larger  knowledge,  the  substance 
of  doctrine  in  newer  dress.  We  must  give  more,  and  do  more,  and 
be  more.  AVe  are  going  to.  While  we  cr}',  "All  hail  to  the  fathers  !'' 
we  do  not  propose  to  stand  still  ourselves.  We  mean  to  improve  upon 
their  example.  The  future  is  bright.  Though  it  Avill  inevitably  be 
different  from  the  present  at  some  points,  even  as  the  present  is  from 
the  past,  God  is  guiding  it  and  us.  lie  has  not  forgotten  his  people, 
nor  will  he.  His  cause  shall  prosper  in  our  hands,  even  as  it  did  of 
yore,  and  yet  more  abundantly. 

Wliou  He  fust  Ihf  work  began, 

Small  and  feeble  was  his  day ; 
Now  the  word  doth  swiftly  run, 

Now  it  wins  its  widening  way. 
More  and  njore  it  spreads  and  grows, 

Ever  mighty  to  prevail ; 
Sin's  strongholds  it  now  o'erthrows, 

Shakes  the  trembling  gates  of  hell. 

Sons  of  God,  your  Saviour  praise! 

He  the  door  hath  opened  wide; 
He  hath  given  the  word  of  grace ; 

Jesus'  word  is  glorified. 
Josus,  mighty  to  redeem, 

He  alone  the  work  hath  wrought. 
"Worthy  is  the  work  of  him. 

Him  who  spake  a  world  from  naught. 

Saw  ye  not  the  cloud  arise, 
Little  as  a  human  hand? 
Now  it  spreads  along  the  skies. 
Hangs  o'er  all  the  thirsty  laud? 
/  Lo !  tl'.e  promise  of  a  shower 

Drops  already  from  above  ; 
But  the  I>ord  will  shortly  pour 
AW  iho  Spirit  of  His  love. 

— Charles  Wesley. 


lOiO]  The  Arena  131 


THE   ARENA 


A  WORTHY  CREED 

Tin:  critique  on  Professor  Denuey's  Christologj',  in  the  September- 
October  number  of  this  Rkview,  deserves  thoughtful  attention,  as  do  all  the 
writings  of  our  beloved  confrere  at  Drew.  The  article  in  question  contains 
.1  few  statements  at  which  some  readers  v/ill  hesitate.  Our  own  hesita- 
tion, however,  has  in  it  no  "personal  feeling  which  amounts  to  actual  dis- 
tress," which  our  dear  friend  confesses  at  finding  fault  with  Professor 
Dcnney.  We  merely  put  a  query  over  against  sundry  statements  found  on 
page  705.  We  have  no  sympathy  with  "fragmental  Christians,  who  are 
ever  trying  to  relieve  the  tension  and  save  Christianity  by  mitigating  its 
truth  and  relating  it  attractively  to  the  unconverted  man,"  but  we  do  ques- 
tion the  statement  that  "a  worthy  creed,  by  the  very  motive  of  it,  is  not 
inclusive  but  is  exclusive."  No  doubt  that  has  been  the  controlling  motive 
and  set  purpose  of  some  creeds,  but  we  are  not  sure  that  such  motive  or 
action  has  ever  accompli.shed  much  in  advancing  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
One  may  also  question  the  statement  that  a  worthy  creed  is  to  be  "pro- 
founder  than  the  biblical  phrase."  Our  ov.-n  reading  of  history  has  often 
left  the  sad  impression  that  no  little  mischief  and  damage  have  come  to 
the  cause  of  Christ  by  preachers  and  teachers  who  have  assumed  to  bind 
the  Cnristian  conscience  with  metaphysical  profundities  out  of  harmony 
with  the  more  simple  modes  of  expression  employed  by  the  biblical  writers. 
Elsewhere  in  the  article  Professor  Curtis  gives  expression  to  his  own  beau- 
tiful and  lovable  personality  and  breadth  by  saying  that  "men,  every  one 
with  a  living  Christian  experience,  must  live  together  in  fellowship,  wor- 
ship, and  service,  to  discover  and  express  the  full  biblical  message  of  re- 
demption." We  greatly  desire  the  full  biblical  message,  but  we  are  slow  to 
believe  that  it  is  dependent  upon  metaphysical  shibboleths,  "profounder 
than  the  biblical  phrase,"  on  which  the  saints  of  all  ages  have  never  been 
able  to  agree.  We  incline  to  the  opinion  that  a  "fellowship,  worship,  and 
service"  which  abstained  from  all  "unpliable  severity"  of  metaphysical 
statement  cf  Christian  doctrine,  and  from  set  purpose  to  exclude  from  the 
Christian  communion  such  men  as  John  Milton  and  Charles  Lamb  and 
Vt'illiam  Penn,  would  greatly  please  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  cause  all  his  holy 
apostles  and  his  noble  army  of  martyrs  to  rejoice.  Any  statement  or  teach- 
i"g  to  the  effect  that  our  Christly  Saviour  "is  only  a  creature  having  an 
impersonal  deposit  from  God,"  is  as  one-sided,  defective,  and  unscriptural 
as  that  he  is  God  only,  having  an  impersonal  deposit  of  human  nature. 
Profcs.sor  Curtis  objects,  with  very  good  reasons,  to  the  creedal  confession 
(•t  Profe.=;sor  Denuey  v,-hich  is,  "I  believe  in  God  through  Jesus  Christ  his 
f'!ily  Sen,  our  Lord  and  Saviour."  Our  own  objection  to  this  is  that  it  is 
''01  .sufliciently  inclusive.  Much  more  comprehensive  is  that  formula 
wliich  Professor  Curtis  himself  offers  "as  a  tentative  expression  of  the 
iiic.^t  essential  features  of  Christian  belief:    I  believe  in  God  the  Father 


J 32  Methodist  review  [January 

through  Jesus  Christ,  his  only  uncreated  Son;  who  voluntarily  became 
man  without  ceasing  to  be  God,  and  died  upon  the  cross  to  make  possible 
our  salvation;  and  rose  again  bodily  from  the  grave,  and  ascended  into 
heaven  to  begin,  through  the  Holy  Ghost,  his  everlasting  kingdom  as 
Lord  and  Saviour."  All  this  we  steadfastly  believe,  and  yet  would  un- 
hesitatingly prefer  a  form  of  statement  more  closely  accordant  with 
biblical  phraseology  and  less  suggestive  of  the  "unpliable  severity"  of 
obsolete  polemics.  The  following  would  probably  accord  more  perfectly 
with  Paul's  way  of  expressing  the  same  essential  doctrines  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith:  "I  believe  in  one  God,  our  heavenly  Father,  and  in  one  Me- 
diator between  God  and  man,  himself  man.  Jesus  Christ,  who  gave  his 
life  a  ransom  for  all  men  that  he  might  become  the  Saviour  of  everyone 
who  believes.  He  arose  from  the  dead,  and  ascended  into  heaven,  and 
ever  lives  to  make  intercession  for  us  and  to  send  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
regenerate  and  lead  us  into  all  the  truth." 

Better  still,  v.e  think,  would  be  a  confession  of  faith  modeled  as 
closely  as  possible  after  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  including  the  two  com- 
mandments of  love  on  which  the  whole  law  and  the  prophets  hang.  It 
might  run  something  as  follows:  "I  believe  in  our  Father  who  is  in 
heaven,  whose  name  is  hallov/ed,  who  loves  us  and  gives  us  our  daily 
bread  and  all  good  things.  I  believe  in  the  coming  and  kingdom  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  gave  his  life  a  ransom  for  us,  forgives  us  our 
debts  as  we  forgive  our  debtors,  and  teaches  us  to  love  God  with  all  our 
heart  and  our  neighbor  as  ourselves.  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Spirit,  who 
helps  us  in  our  trials,  delivers  us  from  the  evil,  leads  us  into  all  the 
truth,  and  works  in  us  to  do  the  will  of  God  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven." 

MiL'fox  S.  Teeby. 

Garrett  Biblical   Institute,  Evanston,   Illinois. 


THE  YOUNG  PEOPLE'S  SOCIETY 

This  society  should  exist  for  Christ  and  the  church,  preparing  its 
members  for  all  kinds  of  Christian  activities.  The  great  commission  of 
the  church  is  to  take  the  gosi)el  to  every  creature.  The  young  people 
should  be  trained  to  help  fulfill  this  great  commis.sion.  How  much  the 
united  energy  of  consecrated  youth  can  accomplish  when  wisely  directed! 
Christ  has  need  of  the  young  people.  The  church  should  jealously  guard 
them  for  him.  The  greatest  privilege  that  a  human  'being  can  have  is  to 
be  a  colaborer  with  Jesus.  The  young  people  who  are  faithful  In  their 
various  plr.ces  to-day  will  be  the  ones  who  will  be  best  fitted  for  the  larger 
field  of  church  work.  Let  the  young  people  give  whole-hearted  service. 
The  best  way  to  possess  love  for  missionary  work  is  to  keep  informed. 
That  will  deepen  the  interest  in  the  subject.  The  great  lesson  for  youth 
to  learn  is  that  they  do  not  exist  for  self  alone,  but  for  Christ  and 
humanity. 

To  cultivate  the  physical  and  mental  nature  alone  may  produce  a 
criminal.  Education  and  information  in  itself  does  not  save.  Develop  the 
body  only,  and  you  may  have  an  idiot.    Every  human  being  is  created  with 


IDlOj  The  Arena       '  133 

n  triune  nature  in  tho  image  of  God.  Let  the  church  make  much  of  the 
young  people's  prayer  meeting,  then,  for  the  development  of  the  higher 
life.  In  the  spiritual  nature  is  developed  kinship  with  God.  This  results 
la  education  of  the  heart.  It  is  just  as  necessary  to  have  the  heart  edu- 
rnled  as  the  head. 

The  young  people  need  to  be  purposeful.  Let  them  aim  to  make  their 
church  a  praying  church  as  far  as  it  lies  in  their  power.  It  is  just  as 
necessary  to  have  the  members  praying  in  the  pew  as  it  is  a  preacher 
|)rcaching  in  the  pulpit.  What  effect  has  the  sermon  without  the  workings 
of  the  Holy  Spirit?  God  has  promised  to  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  those 
who  ask  him.    It  is  written,  "Pray  without  ceasing." 

Alexander,  the  famous  singer,  gives  a  striking  illustration  of  im- 
mediate answer  to  prayer.  There  was  once  a  very  wicked  man  whose 
wife  liad  been  leader  of  a  gang  of  tramps.  The  eldest  son  was  born  in  a 
roal  shed  near  a  stable.  At  seven  years  of  age  he  was  sent  to  a  reform 
Hchool.  Later  he  became  the  leader  of  a  band  of  tramps  and  was  a  prize 
fighter.  He  won  fifty-seven  medals,  seventeen  of  which  were  for  saving 
life  and  the  rest  for  prize  fighting.  He  was  unusually  strong  and  gave  ex- 
hibitions of  weight  lifting.  At  one  time  when  holding  his  show  in  a 
theater  at  Hull,  England,  revival  meetings  were  being  conducted  in  a 
chapel  on  the  road  to  his  home.  One  night,  uiK)n  returning  from  the 
theater,  he  entered  the  chapel  for  the  purpose  of  breaking  up  the  meeting. 
But  an  unseen  power  was  upon  him.  He  sat  down  and  listened  to  the 
exhortation.  His  conscience  was  awakened.  He  went  home  and  passed  a 
restless  night.  The  next  night  he  was  to  have  a  prize  fight,  but  he  post- 
poned it  and  went  to  the  chapel.  He  was  converted  and  was  so  happy  that 
he  wont  home  and  brought  back  his  wife.  She  was  saved  at  the  altar.  Then 
they  Y.ent  everywhere  telling  what  God  had  done  for  their  souls.  One 
niidu  a  fire  broke  out  in  the  building.  A  ladder  -was  thrown  to  the  upper 
etory  and  a  flreruan  ascended  it  forty  feet  in  the  air.  But  his  ladder  burned 
la  two.  The  converted  prize  fighter  threw  out  his  arms  and  caught  the 
fironr.in,  thus  saving  his  life.  But  the  shock  loft  him  paralyzed  from  his 
hips  down.  The  townspeople,  for  his  act  of  heroism,  tendered  him  a  medal 
that  had  not  been  bestowed  in  five  hundred  years  before.  A  purse  was 
Kiven  him  that  he  might  obtain  medical  treatment,  but  no  earthly  physi- 
ci.in  was  able  to  help  him.  During  bis  a.fTliction  he  began  to  study  the 
Hihle,  and  after  aw^hile  he  was  able  to  go  about  on  crutches.  One  night 
he  was  asked  to  speak  at  a  great  revival  meeting.  -  Before  he  began  to 
tpeak  he  began  to  pray.  The  Holy  Spirit  was  present  in  mighty  power. 
His  feet  and  ankle  bones  received  strength  and  he  was  completely  healed. 
^Vo  know  that  God  is  able  and  willing  to  hear  prayer.  !klay  all  glory, 
honor,  and  blessing  be  unto  his  holy  name  now  and  forever  and  ever. 
Amen.  Miss  Z.  I.  Davis. 

Milford,  Michigan. 


134:  2Iethodist  Tievlcw  [Jaiuiaiy 


THE  ITINERANTS'  CLUB 


CHRIST'S   TEACHING   CONCERNING   ALMSGIVING   AND    PRAYER. 
Matt.   G.   1-S 

The  previous  part  of  our  Lord's  Serjnon  on  the  Mount  had  been 
largely  a  correction  of  their  conception  of  the  old  law.  To  the  Jew,  whose 
idea  of  duty  was  largely  external,  he  had  shown  that  the  desire  to  do 
wrong  was  a  sin  as  well  as  the  doing  of  it.  Paul  had  the  rabbinical  con- 
ception in  the  soul-struggle  through  which  he  passed,  as  described  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  chapter  7,  where  he  learned  that  covetousness  was 
sin.  It  has  been  well  remarked  that  when  he  made  this  discovery  "the 
doom  of  legalism  was  sealed." 

Our  Saviour  now  turns  to  the  correction  of  their  errors  in  practice. 
They  made  their  good  deeds  nugatory  by  their  selfishness.  The  first  error 
which  he  notes  has  reference  to  the  doing  of  alms,  or,  as  the  revisers  put 
it,  "righteousness."  "Take  hoed  that  ye  do  not  your  righteousness  before 
men,  to  be  seen  of  them:  else  ye  have  no  reward  with  your  Father  who  is 
In  heaven."  In  this  verse  he  shows  that  their  very  character  may  be  the 
expression  of  selfishness  and  not  generosity.  One  naturally  asks  how  the 
giving  of  alms  can  become  an  act  of  selfishness.  Jesus  tells  them  that  it 
Is  such  when  they  make  it  a  means  of  glorifying  themselves.  His  lan- 
guage is:  "Therefore  when  thou  doest  thine  alms,  do  not  sound  a  trumpet 
before  thee,  as  the  hypocrites  do  in  the  synagogues  and  in  the  streets, 
that  they  may  have  glory  of  men.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  They  have  their 
reward.''  Whether  the  reference  here  is  to  a  custom  of  blowing  a  trumpet 
to  proclaim  that  the  giver  was  about  to  dispense  his  charity  we  are  not 
sure.  Some  suppose  the  places  where  money  was  deposited  were  called 
trumpet.s  because  of  their  resemblance  in  form  to  trumpets,  or  that  the 
clanging  of  money  proclaimed  the  gift  and  called  public  attention  to  it. 
It  is  enough  to  know  that  the  Saviour  condemned  all  parade  of  gifts.  The 
giving  should  be  done  so  unostentatiously  that  those  as  near  as  the  right 
hand  to  the  left  should  not  have  cognizance  of  it.  For  the  display  of 
alm«:giving  our  Lord  has  no  approval  and  offers  no  reward.  He  says, 
"Verily  they  have  their  rev.-ard."  They  have  received,  in  the  glory  which 
they  coveted,  their  full  pay.  They  had  not  sought  God's  approval 
but  man's,  and  with  the  latter  they  must  be  content.  When  one  thus 
abstains  from  public  proclamation  of  his  gifts  he  shows  the  spirit  of 
genuine  love  to  his  heavenly  Father,  who  sees  in  secret  places  and  under- 
stands the  hidden  movements  of  the  heart  and  who  will  himself  give  to 
them  the  true  reward  which   is  God's  approval. 

The  next  subject  in  which  he  corrects  their  views  is  that  of  prayer. 
They  were  accustomed  to  seek  public  places  for  prayer — the  synagogue 
and  street  corners,  where  their  piety  would  be  noticed  and  applauded. 
They  evidently  made  no  effort  at  seclusion  because  they  did  not  want  to 
pray  unseen  by  men.     This  idea  of  prayer  which  he  was  exposing  is  well 


1910] 


The  Itinerants'  Club  135 


iWiL'itrated  in  the  East,  especially  in  Mohammedan  sections.  The  traveler 
in  the  East  notices  the  publicity  with  which  they  perform  their  prayers, 
for  to  the  ordinary  observer  the  Mohammedan  praying  is  largely  a  per- 
formance. Whether  it  is  so  ostentatious  or  not,  it  seems  to  be  so.  We 
liollced  while  traveling  on  a  ship  with  a  large  number  of  Mohammedan 
pllKrlniB  on  their  way  to  Mecca,  that  the  punctiliousness  with  which  they 
licjit  to  the  times  and  external  forms  cf  prayer  made  it  seem  as  if  they 
joimht  publicity.  In  the  midst  of  their  prayers  they  would  sometimes 
tlop  to  converse  with  a  neighbor  engaged  also  in  prayer.  It  was  all 
merely  formal.  There  seemed  to  be  no  heart  in  the  prayer.  For  such, 
praying  the  Lord  says  there  is  reward,  but  it  is  a  purely  earthly  one. 
U  may  secure  the  approval  of  men,  and  may  give  to  them  the  appearance 
of  sanctity,  but  they  have  no  reward  of  their  Father  which  is  in.  heaven. 

.Against  all  this  our  Lord's  teaching  is  a  protest.  Prayer  should  be 
Pennine  in  the  sight  of  God  as  set  forth  in  Matt.  6.  G:  "But  thou,  when 
thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  inner  chamber,  and  having  shut  thy  door, 
pr:iy  to  thy  Father  who  is  in  secret,  and  thy  Father  who  seeth  in  secret 
rl!;'.ll  recompense  thoe."  The  inner  chamber  is  away  from  confusion,  even, 
of  the  family  circle,  it  is  a  place  where  no  one  is  likely  to  pry,  and  one 
in  which  the  suppliant  can  be  alone  with  God.  The  prayer  there  offered 
will  be  a  real  one,  because  it  is  not  likely  that  anyone  \\  ould  pray  in  such 
a  case  who  does  not  desire  to  enter  into  fellowship  with  God  and  to  re- 
ceive his  blessing.  It  is  the  secret  place  where  God  dwells.  "He  that 
tlweUeth  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High  shall  abide  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Almighty."  God  is  invisible  to  the  physical  eye,  but  he  is  open  to 
the  spiritual  vision.  He  is  not  fashioned  into  forms  of  wood  and  stone, 
"Cod  is  a  Spirit:  and  they  that  worship  him  must  worship  him  in  spirit 
and  in  truth."  For  such  prayers  our  Lord  promises  recompense — "Thy 
Father  who  seeth  in  secret  shall  recompense  thee."  What  recompense  he 
will  give  is  net  declared,  but  the  recompense  undoubtedly  will  be  not  only 
the  hearing  of  the  prayer  but  the  answering  of  it  a?  seemeth  good  to  the 
ailwise  Father,  whose  interest  in  his  human  children  is  unfailing.  He 
furtlier  warns  them  against  another  error  of  their  time,  the  use  of  vain 
»«•  petitions,  Matt.  6.  7.  "And  in  praying  use  not  vain  repetitions,  as  the 
Gentiles  do:  for  they  think  that  they  shall  be  heard  for  their  much 
^j'caking."  WTiat  are  the  vain  repetitions  here  mentioned  but  the  prayers 
thnt  have  no  significance  to  the  one  who  prays?  It  is  a  prayer  v.hich 
ti'lieals  mere  words.  An  instance  of  this  is  found  in  1  Kings  IS.  2G.  It 
is  said  in  that  passage  that  after  the  manner  of  the  heathen  they  "called 
<^n  the  name  of  Baal  from  morning  even  until  noon  saying,  O  Baal,  hear 
us."  This  is  not  an  argument  against  the  repetitious  of  prayers  but 
against  vain  repetitions.  It  was  our  Lord  himself  who  in  the  garden  of 
Gclh.somane  uttered  that  wonderful  prayer,  "Father  if  it  be  possible,  let 
this  cup  pass  from  me,"  which  he  repeated  three  times.  The  threefold 
roiK'tiiion  in  this  case  represented  the  intensity  of  our  lord's  agony,  and 
the  deep  earnestness  of  his  prayer  to  his  heavenly  Father.  Earnestness. 
K'-nulnoness,  reality  are  what  our  Lord  demands  in  jirayer.  Whatever  does 
»Joi  icpresent  this  la  merely  external  and  vain.     But  our  Lord  does  not 


136  Methodist  Bevieio  "  [Januarj 

stop  here,  but  corrects  an  erroneous  impression  as  to  what  is  the  object  of 
prayer  (Matt.  6.  8):  "Be  not  therefore  like  unto  them:  for  your  Father 
knoweth  wluit  things  j'e  have  need  of,  before  ye  ask  him."  The  margin 
of  our  revised  version  says,  "Some  ancient  authorities  read  'God  your 
Father,' "  instead  of  "your  Father."  The  meaning  is  the  same,  but  the 
former  is  probably  more  emphatic.  They  supposed  that  the  only  purpose 
of  prayer  was  to  make  God  acquainted  with  their  desires.  He  does  not 
dispute  the  fact  that  they  should  make  known  to  God  their  wants,  for 
this  is  implied  in  all  prayer.  The  prayers  alike  of  the  Old  Testament 
and  the  New  set  forth  petitions  in  which  God's  people  appeal  to  him  for 
help  in  their  time  of  need.  His  omniscience  understandeth  the  deepest 
emotion  of  our  hearts  and  the  true  needs  of  our  souls;  he  says,  "Your 
Father  knoweth  what  things  ye  have  need  of  before  ye  ask  him."  One 
Would  naturally  inquire  what  necessity  there  is,  then,  of  asking  for  that 
•which  he  knows  you  need.  Is  not  his  fatherly  heart  open  to  supply  these 
■wants  without  your  asking?  Certainly;  aslviug,  however,  involves  close- 
ness of  fellov.-ship,  deep  communion,  love  of  the  Father,  v.-illingness  to 
accept  his  decisions  on  all  matters;  it  is  the  child  coming  into  the  father's 
presence  with  utter  simplicity  and  boundless  confidence,  not  waiting  to 
inquire  whether  the  father  or  mother  knows  the  need,  but  lovingly  ex- 
pressing the  desires  with  a  full  confidence  that  the  father  heart  hears  and 
will  answer.  If  there  were  no  direct  answers  to  personal  petitions,  which 
tho  Scriptures  teach  us  there  are,  .there  is  a  delightful  benefit  which 
comes  to  the  soul  growing  out  of  this  sweet  communion  with  the  heavenly 
Father. 

Prayer  is  appointed  to  convey 

The  blessings  God  designs  to  give. 

Long  as  tlioy  live  should  Christi-ins  pray; 
They  learn  to  pray  when  first  they  live. 


ijllOj  Archaeology  and  Biblical  Besearch  137 


AROH-SBOLOGY  AND   BIBLICAL   RESEARCH 


A  NEW  COLLECTION  OF  ANCIENT  TEXTS 

Nothing,  as  far  as  we  know,  has  been  published  in  recent  years  so 
calculated  to  give  the  student  of  archa;ology  and  Semitic  history  as  com- 
plete an  insight  into  the  work  done  by  explorers  and  excavators  in  Bible 
lands,  and  to  throw  such  a  stream  of  light  upon  many  a  dark  passage  in 
llie  Holy  Writ,  as  a  handsome  quarto  volume  of  about  five  hundred  pages 
from  the  press  of  J.  C.  B.  Mohr,  Tubingen,  and  edited  with  the  coopera- 
tion of  Professor  Arthur  Ungnad  and  Dr.  Herrmau  Ranke,  by  Dr.  Hugo 
Grossman,  all  of  Berlin.  This  great  work  is  entitled  Altorientalische 
Tcxtc  und  Bilder  zum  Alten  Tcsfameni.  It  consists  of  two  parts.  The 
fust  is  devoted  to  the  translation  of  the  more  important  texts  discovered 
111  Assyria,  Babylonia,  Palestine,  Egypt,  and  other  countries  influenced 
by  Semitic  culture  or  religion.  The  second  part  reproduces,  by  means  of 
wood  cuts  and  photographs  and  illustrations  of  different  sorts,  a  very 
large  number  of  the  monuments  discussed  and  described  in  part  one. 
These  illustrations  are  in  great  part  photographs  taken  on  the  spot,  so 
us  to  show  the  exact  form,  shape,  and  so  forth.  The  brief  and  lucid  ex- 
Iilanations  accompanying  them  are  most  helpful,  for  by  these  the  student 
Is  at  once  able  to  catch  the  meaning  and  to  gain  information  which 
could  not  be  acquired  in  any  other  way,  at  least  with  such  ease,  clear- 
ness, and  vividness.  'The  editors  are  specialists,  well  qualified  and  well 
supplied  with  helps  and  literature  on  archaeological  subjects.  They  have 
not  only  studied  the  literature  most  thoroughly,  but  have  laid  under  con- 
tribution the  museums  of  Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe.  The  references  and 
notes  found  upon  almost  every  page  bear  eloquent  testimony  to  the  dili- 
geuce  of  the  editors  and  the  thoroughness  of  their  work.  The  honesty  of 
these  men  is  also  patent.  The  numerous  gaps  throughout  the  volume  re- 
wind us  that  many  of  these  old  documents  are  mere  fragments,  and  that 
passage  after  passage  has  defied  translation.  Thus  it  is  quite  evident  that 
in  our  present  state  of  knowledge,  much  is  to  be  desired  in  the  deciphering 
of  Assyrian,  Babylonian,  and  Egyptian  texts.  Where  the  authors  of  this 
volume  were  in  doubt  as  to  the  correct  rendering  of  a  word  or  passage 
they  have  not  hesitated  to  say  so.  Thus  the  subjective  and  hypothetical 
have  been  reduced  to  a  minimum.  Wo  all  have  preconceived  ideas  and 
lue  unconsciously  biased  by  them.  No  doubt  some  of  the  explanations 
Biven  bear  evidence  of  this  failing.  On  the  whole,  however,  the  work  is  re- 
markably fair  and  just. 

The  first  and  principal  part  of  the  book  is  given  to  the  Assyrian  and 
Uabylonian  texts.  Of  these  the  religious  and  mythical  take  up  over  one 
•iundred  pages,  or  about  one  fifth  of  the  entire  collection.  Many  of  the 
longer  and  more  important  inscriptions  are  reproduced  either  in  full  or 


138  ,  Methodist  Revicvj  [January 

nt  great  length.  The  epic  of  creation,  as  might  be  expected,  opens  the 
book.  This  was  discovered  and  first  introduced  to  the  modern  world  in 
a  leiter  by  George  Smith  to  the  Daily  Telegraph,  London,  March  4,  1875. 
Since  that  time  Semitic  scholars  of  various  countries  have  published  this 
ancient  epic  with  comments  of  more  or  less  value.  At  first  only  seven 
tablets,  or  fragments,  were  deciphered,  but  soon  afterward  no  fewer  than 
forty-nine  were  unearthed.  Most  of  them  came  from  the  great  clay 
library  of  Assurbanipal  in  Nineveh,  B.  C.  GG8-G2G.  There  is,  too,  another 
edition,  or  set,  of  the  time  of  Darius,  B.  C.  521-485,  and  still  a  later  one  of 
about  B.  C.  139.  It  would,  however,  be  a  groat  mistake  to  think  that  the 
epic  was  not  written  till  the  seventh  century  before  Christ,  for  it  is  quite 
clear  that  it  must  have  been  known  at  least  B.  C.  2000.  This  old  document 
describes  at  some  length  the  origin  of  life  and  the  successive  steps  of 
creation.  The  m.ythical  and  the  fanciful  are  very  prominent.  This  ex- 
plains why  much  that  is  not  germane,  such  as  a  magic  formula  against 
toothache,  has  been  incorporated.  The  closing  ode,  entitled  "The  River  of 
Creation,"  is  a  perfect  little  gem.  We  can  do  no  better  than  reproduce 
it  here: 

Thou  stream,  which   didst  create  everything, 

When  the  great  gods  dug  thee. 

They  placed  good  things  upon  thy  banks. 

Ea,  the  Lord  of  the  Ocean,  made  his  abode  in  thee. 

They  gave  thee  an  irresistible  cycle   (?). 

Fire,  rage,  dread,  and  terror 

Did  Marduk  and  Ea  give  to  thee. 

Thou  judgest  mankind, 

O  thou  great,  sublime  stream,  stream  of  the  .sanctuaries, 

Mayest  thou  enrich  us  with  the  riches  of  thy  waters. 

It  is  very  easy  to  conceive  how  a  people  so  dependent  upon  irrigation  and 
water  should  invest  the  River  of  Creation  with  supernatural  and  divine 
attributes. 

The  ne.xt  long  poem  is  that  of  Gilgamesh.  It  consists  of  twelve  tablets, 
or  parts,  many  of  them  being  very  fragmentary.  The  eleventh  tablet  is 
of  special  interest  to  the  Old  Testament  student,  since  it  describes  -an 
awful  flood,  similar  to  that  reported  in  Genesis.  The  language  is  very 
beautiful  and  the  ideas,  though  infinitely  inferior  to  those  in  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures,  are  nevertheless  bold  and  interesting.  The  tablets  on  which 
Gilgamesh  is  written  were  likewise  taken  from  the  library  of  Assur- 
banipal; nevertheless,  they  profess  to  be  the  product  of  much  earlier  times 
{circa  B.  C.  2200).  Indeed,  some  go  so  far  as  to  claim  that  Gilgamesh  was 
composed  during  Sargon's  reign,  about  B.  C.  2G00. 

Following  these  two  great  epics  are  shorter  and  less  interesting  ones, 
such  as  the  conflict  between  the  dragons  and  demons,  Istar's  descent  to 
the  nether  world,  and  the  divine  judgment  over  Babylon,  which  recalls 
many  a  passage  in  the  writings  of  the  Hebrew  prophets.  There  are,  too, 
in  the  psalms  or  hymns,  as  well  as  in  the  lamentations,  dirges,  or  funeral 
songs,  great  beauty  of  expression  and  sublimity  of  thought.  Take,  for 
example,  the  following  ode  to  the  sun: 


1010]  'Arcliwology  and  Biblical  Research  139 

O  Shauiash,  King  of  heaven  and  oartli,  who  rulcst  all  that,  is  above  or  below. 

O  Sliamash,  it  is  in  thy  iiower  to  animate  the  dead,  and   relieve  the  captives. 

I'lihribable  judge,   the   leader  of  mankind, 

Sublime  descendant  of  the  Lord  of  brilliant  origin, 

Strong,   brilliant   son,   light    of  countries, 

The  creator  of  all  in  heaven  and  upon  earth  art  thou,  O  Shamash  I 

The  didactic  poems  on  pp.  9Sff.  remind  us  most  vividly  of  the  Proverbs 
of  Solomon  and  other  Hebrew   writers.     Take  the  following: 

Do  not  slander  or  backbite,  but  speak  kindly. 
Do  not  give  utterance  to  evil  things,  but  sjieak  what  is  good. 
Do  not  open  wide  thy  month,  but  guard  thy  lips. 
"Whoever  fears  the  gods  will  not  cry   [in  vain  to  them]. 
"Whoever  fears  the  Anuuuaki  will  prolong  his  days. 

As  with  the  Hebrews,  so  al^.o  with  the  Babylonians,  special  festivities 
were  held  at  stated  periods.  The  7th,  14th,  21st,  2Sth  and  also  the  19th 
day  were  observed.  "We  learn  from  the  so-called  Sabbath  ordinances  that 
the  above  days  were  days  of  fasting  and  gloom,  rather  than  of  joy  and 
festivity.  We  read:  "An  evil  day.  The  shepherd  of  the  great  nations 
shall  not  eat  cooked  meat  or  anything  salted.  He  shall  not  offer  sacrifice. 
He  shall  not  put  on  clean  clothes.  He  shall  not  change  his  shirt.  The 
king  shall  not  drive  in  his  chariot.  He  shall  not  speak  tyrannically  (?). 
The  soothsayers  shall  not  give  forth  statements  in  any  secret  place.  The 
physician  shall  not  touch  a  sick  man.  The  day  is  not  suitable  for  the 
execution  of  any  plans.  The  king  shall  bring  his  gifts  to  the  superior 
gods  at  night,  and  shall  offer  a  sacrilice.  Then  his  prayers  will  be  ac- 
ceptable to  God." 

The  space  at  our  disposal  forbids  us  to  enter  into  details,  so  v.'e  can 
only  mention  the  chronological  texts,  on  which  are  given  a  very 
full  list  of  Babylonian  kings  and  the  length  of  each  reign  from  B.C.  2232 
to  the  reigns  of  Darius  and  Cyrus.  These  lists  are  followed  by  three  in- 
scriptions of  the  Old  Babj  Ionian  times,  two  of  the  Chaldsean  and  twenty- 
three  of  the  Assyrian  period.  All  these  are  historical  in  their  nature  and 
many  of  them  prasent  striking  parallels  in  style  and  contents  to  passages 
ia  the  historical  books  of  Israel.  Here  we  may  mention  Shalmanezer's 
four  campaigns  against  Damascus  (B.  C.  854-S39),  and  Sennacherib's 
against  Jerusalem  (B.  C.  701) ;  in  this  inscription  occur  the  names  Ammon, 
Hezekiah,  Joppa,  Ekron,  and  Jerusalem. 

Very  important  are  the  ne.xt  group  of  texts,  not  because  of  their  con- 
tents but  because  of  their  immediate  connection  with  Palestine  and  its 
early  history.  These  open  with  a  tablet  found  in  1S92  by  Bliss  at  Tel  el- 
Ilasl,  usually  identified  as  Lachlsh  of  the  Bible.  Then  come  two  of  the 
five  tablets  discovered  by  Sellin  at  Ta'auak,  or  Taanach,  in  the  valley  of 
Esdraelon.  These  historical  texts  close  with  a  selection  from  the  Tel  el- 
Araarna  letters,  the  last  three  being  from  the  governor  of  Jerusalem  to 
the  king  of  Egypt,  whose  aid  is  implored  against  hostile  forces  which 
threaten  the  overthrow  of  Egyptian  rule  in  Jerusalem. 

We  now  come  to  the  third  division  of.  the  first  part,  which  consists  of 


140  NcihodisL  Jacvicw        '  [January 

legal  texts,  court  proceedings,  marriage  and  business  contracts  of  various 
periods,  including  two  seals  discovered  at  Gezer  in  Palestine  and  first 
published  in  the  quarterly  statement  of  the  Palestine  Exploration  Fund  in 
1904  and  1905.  Next  follov.s  in  full  the  Cede  of  Hammurabi,  with  introduc- 
tion and  conclusion.  Thi-s  code  is  so  v/ell  known  to  our  readers  that  it 
needs  nothing  more  than  a  mention.  Nevertheless,  two  observations  may- 
be in  order.  1.  The  translation  and  the  notes  appended  are  excellent,  and 
there  is  every  reason  why  this  edition  of  this  famous  code  should  be  the 
very  best  published  up  to  this  time.  The  editors  had  the  advantage  of 
having  before  them  several  translations  in  several  languages,  and  an  im- 
mense literature  from  which  to  draw.  2.  The  Code  of  Hammurabi  and  the 
Tel  el-Amarna  tablets,  perhaps  more  than  anything  else  in  recent  dis- 
covery, have  made  necessary  the  rewriting  of  Old  Testament  critici.=;m. 
The  time  was,  and  that  not  very  long  ago,  when  great  biblical  critics  pro-* 
nounced  against  the  possibility  of  the  Mosaic  origin  of  the  Pentateuch  on 
two  grounds,  neither  of  which  has  any  weight  whatever  to-day.  We  were 
assured  that  IMoses  could  not  have  written  the  Pentateuch,  because  writing 
of  books  was  not  known  in  his  day,  and  then,  when  the  discovery  of  the  El- 
Amarna  tablets  proved  that  such  a  conclusion  was  false,  the  critics,  noth- 
ing daunted,  with  equal  show  of  knowledge  declared  that  codes  as 
perfect  as  those  found  in  the  books  bearing  Moses's  name  could  not  have 
been  drawn  up  thirteen  or  fourteen  centuries  before  the  birth  of  Christ, 
when,  lo  and  behold!  the  code  of  Hammurabi,  nearly  a  thousand  years 
older  than  the  reputed  laws  of  Moses,  was  brought  to  light.  This  was  a 
stunning  blow  to  Wellhausenisra,  one  from  which  it  can  never  hope  to 
recover. 

The  last  few  pages  of  the  Semitic  texts  are  occupied  with  what  have 
been  termed  north-Semitic  inscriptions.  Here  are  given  in  full  the  Mesa- 
inscription,  or  the  IMoabite  stone,  written  about  B.  C.  S50,  w^hich  reads  very 
much  as  a  chapter  from  Kings  or  Chronicles.  Then  we  have  King  Zakir's 
(?)  stele,  found  by  M.  Pognon  in  1903.  The  place  where  this  was  dis- 
covered is,  for  prudential  reasons,  withheld.  Zakir  was  king  of  Hamath 
and  La'as  about  B.  C.  800.  In  this  inscription  occur  the  names  Benhadad. 
Hazael,  Aram,  and  Shemesh,  the  Sun-god.  Then  comes  the  Silsam  inscrip- 
tion, cut  about  B.  C.  700  on  the  solid  rock  of  a  tunnel  connecting  the  Spring 
of  the  Virgin  and  the  Pool  of  Siloam  in  Jerusalem.  Here  follow  three 
papyri  with  the  correspondence  of  the  Jews  at  Elephantine  in  Egypt  with 
Bagohi,  the  governor  of  Jerusalem.  The  date  is  definitely  settled,  namely, 
the  20th  of  Maichesvan  in  the  ITth  year  of  King  Darius,  or  December,  B.  C. 
408.  Then  follow  three  short  inscriptions,  of  about  B.  C.  300;  all  three  are 
what  have  been  termed  sacrificial  tarif  tablets,  one  from  the  temple  of 
Baal  in  Marseilles,  the  other  two  from  the  temple  of  the  same  god  at 
Carthage.  It  is  possible  that  the  first  one  also  was  of  Carthaginian  origin. 
There  is  a  most  striking  resemblance  between  the  technical  terms  in  these 
three  sacrificial  tablets  and  those  employed  in  the  Mosaic  ritual. 

Turning  now  from  the  distinctively  Semitic  countries,  we  come  to  the 
last  seventy-five  pages,  containing  Egyptian  texts.  These,  too,  afford  a 
very  clear  view  of  Egyptian  civilization  and  religious  culture  from  the 


TIUOJ  Arc/ia'ologj/ and  Biblical  Hcscarch  141 

rarllr<st  ages.  As  with  the  literature  of  the  Euphrates  and  Tigris  valleys, 
BO.  loo.  with  that  of  the  Nile.  The  first  is  devoted  to  the  creation  of  all 
things,  the  destruction  of  the  dragon  and  the  human  race.  Then,  as 
coulij  be  expected  of  Egypt,  there  are  numerous  inscriptions  dealing  with 
the  life  beyond.  Of  these  we  have  here  the  so-called  '^negative  confession," 
t;iken  from  the  one  hundred  and  twenty-fifth  chapter  of  the  "Book  of  the 
Dead,"  and  supposed  to  have  been  written  about  B.  C.  2C00.  The  theo- 
logical or  religious  texts,  though  occupying  a  prominent  pai  t,  exclude,  by 
no  means,  lighter  literature,  such  as  hymns,  panegyrics,  love  songs,  and 
short  stories  or  fairy  tales.  Two  of  these,  the  story  of  the  adulteress  and 
the  seven  years'  famine,  involuntarily  recall  the  story  of  Joseph  in  Egypt. 
Some  of  the  love  songs  are  quite  as  sentimental  as  anything  in  our  own 
day,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  following: 

The   love  of  [my]   sij^tcr  is  on  the  other  side, 

A  river  is  between   [us], 

A  crocodile  stands  on  the  sandbank    (?) 

1    descend   into   the     water, 

I  step  into  the  flood, 

My  heart  is  full  of  courage  upon  the  water 

The  waves  (  ?)   are  like  land  beneath  ray  feet 

It  is  her  love,  which  makes  me  strong, 

A'erily,  she   makes  a  charm  for  me    (against   the   crocodile). 

We  have  also  excellent  specimens  of  didactic  prose.  Two  of  these  collections 
should  be  noted:  the  "Proverbs  of  Ptah-hotep,"  who  flourished  about  B.  C. 
2C00,  and  a  collection  styled  the  "Proverbs  of  the  Eloquent  Peasant."  Nor 
must  we  fail  to  mention  the  prophetical  texts,  foretelling  the  coming  of  a 
strange  people  to  drive  out  the  inhabitants  of  Egypt.  The  oldest  of  these 
were  gray  with  age  long  before  a  Hebrew  prophet  had  uttered  his  predic- 
tions, and  they  go  back  to  the  age  of  Snefru,  B.  C.  2950.  Of  these  we  can 
quote  the  following  only: 

Strangers  will  drink  water  out  of  the  river  of  Egypt  in  order  to  cool 
themselves.  This  country  will  become  a  prey  .  .  .  The  land,  as  has  been 
foreordained,  will  be  overthrown.  A  king  will  come  from  the  South.  He 
will  seize  the  crown  of  upper  Egypt. 

This  volume  closes  v\-ith  the  most  interesting  of  all  Egyptian  texts  to 
the  archaeologist,  that  is,  with  the  historical  inscriptions  in  which  are 
reported  at  great  length  the  campaigns  and  conquests  of  Egyptian  kings 
and  generals  in  Arabia,  Palestine,  Syria,  and  other  Bible  lands.  The  num- 
ber of  proper  names  common  to  these  and  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  and 
cuneiform  inscriptions  is  both  large  and  instructive. 


142  Methodist  Review  [January 


FOREIGN  OUTLOOK 


THE  CONSERVATIVE  TENDENCY  OF  OLD  TESTAMENT 
SCHOLARSHIP 

That  recent  developments  of  Old  Testament  scholarship  in  Europe 
show  a  decided  conservative  tendency  has  been  maintained  in  another 
department  of  this  Review,  and  the  claim  has  in  part  been  challenged  by 
ail  eminent  scholar.  In  what  sense  and  to  what  extent  the  statement 
holds  good  is  an  interesting  question.  That  there  is  any  sign  at  all 
pointing  toward  the  ultimate  rehabilitation  of  the  traditional  view  of  the 
Old  Testament  literature  surely  cannot  be  affirmed.  There  is  to-day  no 
leader  of  thought  in  Europe  who  rei)resents  critical  views  like  those  of 
the  late  Professor  Green.  At  the  same  time  nothing  can  be  clearer  than 
that  the  school  of  Wellhausen  is  in  process  of  disintegration.  Not  a  few 
former  adherents  have  parted  from  the  master,  though  v/ith  the  heartiest 
acknowledgment  of  the  immense  permanent  gain  resulting  from  his  bril- 
liant researches.  Men  like  Benzinger,  Biintsch  (deceased),  Stilrk,  and 
Volz  afTirm,  in  opposition  to  their  former  master,  a  much  larger  measure 
of  historicity  in  the  account  of  Moses  and  his  time,  and  especially  a  much 
higher  and  purer  religious  conception,  than  that  critic  had  allowed.  Here 
is  a  conservative  tendency,  in  that  historical  criticism  has  grown  more 
moderate,  and  the  emphasis  upon  the  principle  of  divine  revelation  In  the 
Old  Testament  religion  has  become  larger  and  more  positive.  And  this 
means  very  much;  only  let  no  one  imagine  that  these  men  show  any  sign 
of  returning  to  the  traditional  view  in  their  criticism.  But  doubtless 
the  most  noteworthy  recent  tendency  in  Old  Testament  criticism  is  that 
represented  by  the  group  of  which  Gunkel  is  the  leader.  Wellhausen  has 
done  his  great  work  in  the  field  of  literary  criticism  and  historical  con- 
struction. Gunkel,  on  his  part,  insists  that  Wellhausen  devoted  himself 
chiefly  to  problems  that  are  essentially  of  secondary  importance  and 
neglected  the  matter  of  chief  interest,  that  is,  religion  itself.  "It  is  re- 
ligion with  which  the  theologian  has  to  do."  So  Gunkel  takes  up  the  task 
of  tracing  the  development  of  the  religion  of  Israel.  He  undertakes  to 
trace  that  religion  back  to  its  sources,  which  he  believes  he  finds  chiefiy 
iu  Babylonia,  and  then  to  follow  its  development  through  its  various 
phases.  Gunliel  does,  indeed,  strongly  insist  that  the  religion  of  Israel 
is  immeasurably  purer  and  higher  than  that  of  Babylonia;  and  yet  his 
conception  of  biblical  religion — not  only  of  the  Old  Testament,  but  also  of 
the  New — is  thoroughly  evolutionistic  and  largely  syncretistic.  In  spite 
of  this,  however,  he  lays  great  stress  upon  personal  religion  as  a  vital 
force,  and  this  fact  (as  conservatives  like  the  late  Pastor  Lasson  and  the 
late  Dr.  Stdckcr  frankly  acknowledged)  is  a  real  gain.  Away  from  Well- 
hausen lies  his  course,  and  it  bears  toward  a  livelier  appreciation  of 
religion.     And   yet  v.here   is   there   iu   Gunkel   a   trace   of  conservatism? 


]I)10]^  I'^orcign  Outloolc  143 

There  Is,  nevertheless,  at  present  a  strong  and  significant  conservative 
(.MKlency  within  the  field  of  Old  Testament  scholarship.  During  the 
whole  period  of  the  ascendency  of  the  school  of  Wellhaiisen  there  have 
b^'cn.  of  course,  in  Germany  and  ueigliboring  countiies  worthy  representa- 
tives of  a  more  or  less  conservative  standpoint — really  conservative  in 
};plto  of  their  very  large  concessions  to  the  critical  school.  But  these 
conservatives  of  the  older  generation  have  failed  to  exert  an  influence 
commensurate  with  their  learning  and  talents.  The  reason  for  this  rela- 
tive failure  is  probably  to  be  found  in  that  they  generally  have  appeared 
to  be  either  conducting  a  dignified  retreat  or  else  stubbornly  fighting  to 
maintain  an  as.=-.ailed  stronghold.  In  this  respect  the  conservatives  of  the 
younger  generation  have  a  manifest  advantage.  Generally  speaking,  their 
views  in  matters  of  pure  historico-literary  criticism  are  as  free  and  as 
modern  as  those  of  their  liberal  colleagues;  but  such  views  are  uttered 
quite  without  the  apologetic  tcne  of  concession  and  with  full  a.?surance 
of  their  being  wholly  compatible  with  a  positive  evangelical  faith.  Men 
of  this  group,  for  example,  Koberle  (died  in  1908  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
seven),  Sellin,  Proksoh,  AVilke  and  Jeremias,  have  made  a  decided  im- 
pression upon  the  scholarly  world.  In  learning  and  critical  acumen  they 
liave  shown  themselves  the  equals  of  scholars  of  the  so-called  critical 
school,  while  in  the  positive,  consti'uctive  appreciation  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment revelation  they  display  a  vigor  and  an  understanding  that  are  re- 
freshing and  very  helpful  to  faith.  Reposeful  in  their  assurance  that 
faith  has  a  sure  foundation  unaffected  by  the  problems  of  historical  re- 
search, they  are  free  to  perform  that  constructive  work.  This  combina- 
tion of  freedom  in  scientific  research  and  positiveness  of  evangelical  faith 
may  be  seen  in  all  their  writings,  most  conveniently,  perhaps,  in  their 
contributions  to  the  series,  Biblische  Zeit-  und  Streitfragen.  It  seems 
very  probable,  by  the  way,  that  the  men  of  this  younger  group  have  been 
strongly  influenced  in  the  spirit  and  general  tendency  of  their  work  by 
certaiii  powerful  conservative  clogmaticians  of  the  day — Kahler,  Ihmels, 
and  Seeberg — who  in  a  rare  degree  combine  freedom  and  positive  evan- 
gelical faith. 

The  new  "conservative  tendency,"  accordingly,  is  twofold.  The 
wealth  of  knowledge  that  has  come  through  the  study  of  ancient  Israel 
In  Its  relation  to  the  Babylonian  and  the  whole  Oriental  civilization  has 
rendered  necessary  an  extensive  revision  of  Wellhausen's  historical  con- 
Ktruction.  This  revision  is  in  part  "conservative"  in  its  direction.  But 
the  second  aspect  of  the  new  movement  is  the  more  genuinely  conserva- 
tive of  the  two— the  new  and  bolder  emphasis  upon  the  revelation- 
character  of  the  Old"  Testament  in  its  organic  relation  to  the  Christian 
revelation.  The  measure  of  importance  of  the  new  movement  is  variously 
tbllmated.  One  writer  in  pleading  for  a  "positive"  successor  to  Professor 
M-^rx,  of  Heidelberg  (died  August  4,  1909),  declares  that  the  "positive" 
Old  Testament  scholars  have  of  late  taken  "the  leading  position."  And 
Professor  Sellin,  in  Die  Theologie  dcr  Gegemoart  (1909.  2.  Ileft),  writes: 
"A  Kignificant  cl:ange  in  Old  Testament  research  is  at  pieseut  taking  place 
'•••fore  our  very   eyes,  a  change  which  can  be  checked  just  as  little  by 


144  Mclhodlsl  Be  view  [Janufiry 

harsh  polemics  as  by  biting  irony  or  genteelly  superior  judicial  rejection, 
a  change  v.liich  takes  place  with  the  cogent  power  of  a  necessity  in  the 
natural  \Yorld:  the  structure  of  the  history  of  the  religion  of  Israel,  so 
ingeniously  founded  and  constructed  thirty  years  ago  especially  by  Well- 
hausen,  is  not  only  cracking  in  all  its  joints,  it  is  indeed  already  done 
away."  Lest  this — perhaps  too  strong — statement  be  misunderstood,  it 
should  be  added  that  Selliu  ascribes  this  result  not  to  the  influence  of 
conservative  scholars  alone,  but  also  to  the  work  of  men  like  Gunkel, 
v.hcsc  theological  attitude  is  certainly  radical.  Sellin  further  writes: 
"With  all  the  emphasizing,  in  recent  years,  of  the  need  to  revise  the 
Vrellhausian  scheme  of  the  history  of  the  religion  of  Israel,  its  founda- 
tion, namely,  the  critical  discrimination  of  the  sources  in  the  Pentateuch 
and  the  historical  books,  has,  more  or  less,  been  simply  accepted  and 
acknowledged  as  sure." 

The  literary  event  of  the  last  year  for  the  science  of  introduction  to 
the  Ol-d  Testament  is  now  this,  that  even  that  documentary  theory  is 
vigorously  assailed  by  a  former  supporter  of  it.  Professor  Eerdmans,  of 
Leyden,  opens  a  book  on  The  Composition  of  Genesis  with  the  words: 
"In  this  treatise  on  the  composition  of  Genesis  I  renounce  my  past  con- 
nection with  the  critical  school  of  Graf-Kuenen-'Wellhausen,  and  I  combat 
the  so-called  modern  documentary  hypothesis  in  general."  Sellin  himself, 
however,  seems  to  be  but  little  impressed  by  the  soundness  of  Eerdrnans's 
arguments.  After  expressing  his  conviction  that  so  serious  a  piece  of 
criticism  must  be  patiently  examined,  he  adds:  "No  reasonable  man  can 
to-day  any  longer  call  in  question  the  ingeniousness,  importance  and 
relative  justification  {BerechlUjunrj)  of  the  ^Yellhausjan  criticism.  But 
w^ho  can  deny  that  this  criticism  fixed  the  age  of  the  several  sources 
under  the  influence  of  a  scheme  of  the  history  of  civilization  and  religion 
based  on  the  knowledge  which  men  possessed  thirty  years  ago,  not  on  that 
which  we  possess  to-day?"  This  alteration  in  our  knowledge  (he  con- 
tends) must  involve  a  revision  of  the  method  of  the  literary  criticism 
not  only  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  but  also  of  historico-literary  criticism 
generally.  In  view  of  the  problems  of  to-day,  a  "Biblical  Introduction" 
which  should  stop  at  the  discriminiitiou  of  the  "sources"  and  the  fixing 
of  the  dates  and  other  circumstances  of  the  several  writings  would  not 
be  a  real  introduction  at  all.  Of  course  even  a  typical  Wellhausian  like 
Coruill  goes  much  farther  than  that;  and  the  sixth  edition  of  his 
Einleitung  (190S)  is  recognized  as  the  best  introduction  into  the  literary 
problems  of  the  Old  Testament. 


I'JIOJ  UUmpscs  of  Jicvieics  and  Magazines  a45 


GLIMPSES  OF  REVIEWS  AND  MAGAZINES 

Tjie  Exgi.ish  Review  (London),  published  in  a  thick  quarterly  at 
one  dollar  a  copy,  though  containing  no  more  matter  than  a  copy  of  our 
oNvn  Kkvikw,  presents  little  that  would  be  of  value  to  our  readers.  The 
October  number  has  five  stories,  two  brief  essays,  eleven  poems,  v.-ith 
editorial  discussions  of  such  subjects  as  "Poor  Law  Reform,"  "Policy  of 
the  Government,"  "The  Present  Moment  In  Spain,"  "The  Task  of  Realism," 
"The  Place  of  History  In  Education."  In  editorial  notes  on  English  litera- 
ture George  Eliot  is  disparaged  as  follov.s:  "In  her  time  George  Eliot  was 
taken  more  seriously  than  any  writer  of  to-day  has  ever  been.  Yet,  to 
the  great  bulk  of  educated  criticism  of  to-day,  she  has  become  a  writer  un- 
readable in  herself  and  negligible  as  a  critical  illustration.  Her  character- 
drawing  appears  singularly  wooden,  her  books  v.ithout  any  form,  her  style 
entirely  pedestrian,  and  her  solemnity  intolerable.  Her  works  have  quali- 
ties that  make  them  to  men  in  touch  with  the  life  of  to-day  entirely  un- 
readable, exactly  like  so  many  heavy  cakes."  Comparing  her  with  Anthony 
Trollope,  it  is  said  that  we  can  take  up  with  interest  Barchester  Tov/ers  in 
a  hand  which  listlessly  drops  Adam  Bede.  "The  reason  is  that  Trollope 
recorded  facts,  observing  the  world  he  lived  in,  while  George  Eliot,  as  if 
she  had  converted  herself  into  another  Frankenstein,  went  on  evolving 
obedient  monsters  who  had  no  particular  relation  to  the  life  of  her  time — 
monsters  who  seduced  or  allowed  themselves  to  be  seduced,  who  murdered 
tiieir  infants,  or  quoted  the  Scriptures  just  as  it  suited  her.  Trollope,  on 
the-  other  hand,  pictured  an  actual,  credible  world.  His  observations  have 
the  light  of  facts,  filtered  through  the  screen  of  his  own  personality — a 
liorsonality  not  very  rare,  not  very  subtle,  but  so  honest,  so  humble,  and, 
above  all,  so  conscientious  that  he  helps  us  to  live  in  a  real  world  and 
affords  us  real  experiences.  And  precisely  because  George  Eliot  had  no 
conscience,  precisely  because  she  gives  us  a  world  that  never  was,  peopled 
by  supermen  Mho,  we  may  thank  God,  never  could  have  been,  she  is  now 
a  force  practically  extinct,  and  is  hourly  losing  impetus.  And  she  has  no 
existence  whatever  as  an  artist.  Having  studied  Strauss's  Leben  Jesu.  she 
became  inflated  by  the  idea  of  the  writer  as  prophet;  she  evolved  monstrous 
works  made  up  largely  of  her  endless  comments  upon  Victorian  philos- 
ophy." The  most  striking  thing  in  the  English  Review  for  October  is  the 
"Kallad  of  The  Goodly  Fere"  (Fere  being  Anglo-Saxon  and  Old  English, 
and  meaning  mate,  companion),  by  Ezra  Pound,  an  American  now  living 
In  England.  The  author  of  tlie  ballad  supposes  Simon  Zelotes  to  speak 
these  verses  somewhile  after  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus: 


Ila'  we  lost  tbe  goodliest  Fere  o'  all 
For  the  prio.^ls  niul   (lie  gallows-tree? 

Ay  lover  he  was  of  brawny  men, 
O*  ships  and   the  open   sea. 


14G  Methodist  Ileview  [January 

When  they  came  wi'  u  host  to  take  "Our  Man" 
.    His  smile  was  good  to  see. 
"First  let  these  go!"  quo'  the  Goodly  Fere, 
"Or  I'll  see  ye  cursed,"  says  he. 

Ay  he  sent  us  out  through   the  crossed  high  spears 

And  the  scorn  o'  his  laugh  rang  free. 
"Why  took  ye  not  me  when  1  walked  about 

Alone  iu  the  town?"  says  he. 

I  ha'  seen  him  drive  a  liundred  men 

Wi'  a  bundle  of  cords  swung  free, 
That  they  took  the  high  and  holy  house 

For  tlieir  pawn  and  treasury. 

'  They'll  no'  get  him  as  iu  a  book  I    think, 

Tho  they  write  it  cunningly. 
No  mouse  of  the  scrolls  was  our  Goodly  Fere, 
But  ay  loved  the  open   sea. 

If  they  think  Ihoy  ha'  snared  our  Goodly  Fere 

They  are  fools  to  the  last  degree. 
"I'll  go  to  the  feast,"  quo'  our  Goodly  Fere, 

"Tho  I  go  to  the  gallows-tree." 

"Ye  ha'  seen  me  heal  the  lame  and  blind 

And  awake  the  deafl,"  says  he. 
"Ye  shall  see  one  thing  to  master  all, 

'T's  hov,-  a  brave  man  dies  on  the  tree." 

A  son  of  God  was  the  Goodly  Fere 

That  bade   us  his  brothers  be. 
I  ha'  seen  hira  cow  a  thousand  men. 
I  ha'  seen  him  upon  a  tree. 

He  cried  no  cry  when  they  drnve  the  nails 

And  the  blood  gushed   hot  and  free. 
The   hounds   of   the  crimson   sky   gave   tongue, 

But  never  a  cry  cried  he. 

I  ha'  seen  him  cow  a  tho\isand  men 

On  the  hills  o'  Galilee. 
They  v>Iiined  as  he  walked  out  calm  between, 

Wi'  his  eyes  like  the  gray  o'  the  sea  : 

Like.tlie  sea  that  brooks  no  voyaging. 

Vi'ith   the   winds   unleashed   and    free, 
Like  the  sea  tiiat  he  cowed  at  Genseret 

Wi'  twoy  words  spoke'  suddcntly. 

A   master  of   men   was  the   Goodly   Fere, 

A  male  of  the  wind  and  soa. 
If  they  think  they  ha'  slain   our  Goodly  Fere, 

They  are  fools  eternally. 

/  ha'  seen  him  eat  of  the  honey  comb 
&'i?i'  thcij  nailed  him  to  the  tree. 


^()jOl  Glimpses  of  L'eiicws  and  Magazines  147 

When  Dr.  Charles  H.  Parkhurst,  for  thirty  years  pastor  of  the  Madison 
S.-juare  Presbyterian  Church  In  New  York  city,  returned  from  his  usual 
summering  among  the  mountains  of  Switzerland,  he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty 
to  make   some    comment   on   the   very   peculiar   utterances   of   a   retired 
university  president  whose  mental  attitude  in  general  is  pedagogic  and 
whose  feeling  toward  the  world  at  large  seems  grandpatcrnal.  and  who 
has  seen  fit  to  present  to  his  fellow-men  what  a  secular  journal  describes 
as  "a  liberal  education  five  feet  long  and  a  new  religion  three  feet  long" — 
ji  religion  whose  inadequacy  is  like  that  of   Isaiah's  bed — too  short  for 
a  man  to  stretch  himself  on  it,  and  its  covering  too  narrow  for  a  man  to 
wrap  himself  in  it.     "With  the   retired  university   president  in  mind  Dr. 
Parkhurst  took  for  his  text  the  words:  "There  be  some  that  trouble  you 
and  would  pervert  the  gospel  of  Christ"  (Gal.  1.  7).    He  began  as  follows: 
'•The  Christians  of  Galatia  were  to  Paul  a  grievous  affliction,  as  was  he 
to  them.    Their  Gallic  temperament,  that  is  to  say,  their  French  tempera- 
ment—for they  were  of  the  same  stock  as  are  the  modern  French  and 
Irish— -they  took  with  them  into  their  Christianity.     They  and  the  apostle 
were   to  each   other  mutually   unintelligible,   they   unable  to    understand 
his  fixity,  he  unable  to  bear  with  their  instability.     His  Christian  faith 
was  a  grounded  faith;   they,  on  the  contrary,  were  all  top  and  no  root; 
iiufficiently  devoted  to  him  one  day,  he  tells  us,  to  tear  out  their  eyes  for 
him.  and  the  next  day,  apparently  as  ready  to  tear  out  his  eyes;   at  first 
enthusiastic,    even   passionate    devotees    of    the  gospel,    in   the    form    and 
spirit  in  which  Paul  had  preached  it  to  them,  and  immediately  thereafter 
as  ready  to  renounce  all  that  was  distinctive  of  pure  and  original  Chris- 
tianity and  to  fall  back  upon  the  lifelessness  and  formality  of  the  system 
of  harsh  legalism  out  from  which  it  had  been  the  aim  of  Pauline  doctrine 
and  Pauline  inspiration  to  emancipate  them.     They  would  still  call  them- 
folves  Christians,  even  while  denying  in  their  own  thought  and  life  all  of 
that   which  constituted    the   specific   ground   and   genius   of  Christianity. 
They  were  thus  simply  the  progenitors  of  that  numerous  class,  so  much  in 
rviOcuce  just  noiv,  who  Jccep  the  name  of  Christianity,  hut  ignore,  and 
not  only  ionore  hut  resent,  that  whole  range  of  doctrine  and  that  vast 
tide  of  spiritual  impulse  ichich  icere  incarnate  in  the  person  of  Chris- 
tianity's  Founder,    and   which    have    been    the    makers   of    the    greatest 
tharactiyrs  and  the  producers  of  the  finest  passages  of  history  for  almost 
txrrnly  centuries.     To  draw  the  hlack  brush  of  intellectual  supercilious- 
n-Ms  over  so  muck  of  what  has   been  the  mental,  moral   and  religious 
iitjlity  of  the  world  since  the  day  when  Christ  said,  'I  and  the  Father 
arr  one'  implies  a  degree  of  immodesty  and  self  assurance  that  is   not 
tt*ni,Uj    enormous,    but    that    is    grotesque    and    monstrous."      Referring 
to  ihe  church  of  which  he  is  pastor.  Dr.  Parkhurst  speaks  of  it  as  being 
•  ■■atheterized  by  two  features,  its  conservatism  and  its  progvessiveness — 
*hl<h  is  the  ideal  character  for  a  church  or  a   minister.     John  V/esley 
.  «-^«  that  kind  of  a  minister.     Dr.  Porlvhurst  says  of  his  church:   "It  is, 
an  1  always  has  been,  just  such  a  church  as  any  man  must  love  to  minister 
Uj.  *1io  b.'Iioves  both  in  the  past  and  in  the  future,  and  who  has  no  conception 
<'fauj  future  that  is  not  constructed  upon  the  foundation  of  the  past,  taking 


14S  Methodist  Uevicw  [Jaiiuary 

its  complexion  from  the  shining  of  one  constant  sun  and  shaping  its 
fo:"^  of  development  at  the  impulse  of  energies  supplied  from  one 
abiding  root,  deeply  covered  and  secretly  watered  and  fed.  This  is  not 
a  church  that  has  ever  countenanced  the  doctrine  of  'free  thought,'  if  by 
fre^  thought  we  are  to  understand  every  man's  liberty  to  think  what  he 
likes.  So  understood,  there  is  no  more  legitimate  place  for  'free  thought' 
in  matters  of  religion  than  in  matters  of  science.  Two  and  two  are  four 
and  I  have  no  right  to  think  that  two  and  two  are  five.  People  are  prone 
to  forget  that  there  is  a  truth  in  things  entirely  independent  of  their 
oj-'inion  of  things,  and  that  the  sincerity  with  which  a  man  may  believe 
what  is  not  so  does  not  help  to  make  it  so.  The  line  of  truth  is  as  straight 
as  the  perpendicular  that  joins  the  center  of  the  earth  with  the  center 
of  the  sky,  and  what  is  not  utterly  true  is  absolutely  false.  ITiere  Is  no 
redeeming  grace  in  intellectual  sincerity.  Truth  is  the  only  thing  that 
is  true,  and  everything  else  is  blunder,  and  the  blunders  that  a  man 
makes  about  serious  things  are  serious  blunders.  This  church,  then,  has 
for  well-nigh  sixty  years  been  distinguished  both  by  the  stanchness 
and  by  the  elasticity  of  its  faith — stanchness  in  holding  to  fundamentals; 
elasticity  in  yielding  to  whatever  new  aspects  of  truth  have  been  con- 
sidered by  it  as  no  interference  with  fundamentals  or  contradiction  of 
tbem.  In  that  particular  it  has  been  like  a  tree  firmly  planted,  whose 
leaves  may  flutter,  and  whose  branches  may  sway  before  the  blast,  but 
through  it  all,  relentlessly  bound  into  the  tenacious  substratum  of  root 
with  which  it  is  undergirded;  unmoved  from  that  foundation  upon 
which,  with  the  Christian  Church  universal,  this  church  upon  the  Square 
has  been  unalterably  built,  that  same  which  was  expressed  by  the  apostle 
Paul  in  his  first  Corinthian  letter  when  he  said,  'Other  foundation  can 
no  man  lay  than  that  is  laid,  which  is  Christ  Jesus.'  It  is  wholesome 
once  in  a  while  to  realize  distinctly  where  we  are,  to  ignore  temporarily 
the  secondary  and  subordinate  elements  of  our  religion,  and  to  refresh 
our  consciousness  of  that  which  antedates  the  secondary  and  is  basal.  It 
is  not  necessary  to  be  forever  buttressing  our  foundations,  but  it  is 
invigorating  as  well  as  clarifying  to  return  once  in  a  while  to  a  distinct 
Bt-ise  of  our  foundations  and  to  feel  the  whole  structure  made  one  and 
solid  by  the  unity  and  solidity  as  well  as  simplicity  of  those  foundations." 
After  this  somewhat  parenthetic  but  not  irrelevant  reference  to  the 
attitude  of  his  own  church  Dr.  Parkhurst  returns  to  his  setting  forth 
of  what  constitutes  Christianity:  "Christianity  is  vast  and  manifold  in 
what  it  comprises,  yet  with  all  its  wealthy  variety  of  containings  it  is 
itself  simply  contained  in  Jesus  Christ  who  is  himself  'the  brightness  of 
the  Father's  glory  and  the  express  image  of  his  person.'  Christ  as 
revealed  in  the  Scriptures  and  as  still  more  intimately  revealed  by  hiB 
Spirit  is  to  this  church  the  personal  essence  of  all  Christian  theology. 
And  it  is  that  which  makes  this  church  a  Christian  church.  The  word 
'Christian'  is  not  one  to  which  it  is  legitimate  to  attach  any  cheap 
tigaification.  The  New  Testament  is  the  text-book  of  Christianity.  It  is 
the  standard  against  which,  if  we  are  going  to  be  just,  religious  opinions 
and  life  will  require  to  be  measured. 


l-ijOj  Glimpses  of  IUu:icws  and  Magazines  149 

"Whatever  in  the  way  of  doctrine  and  life  squares  with  that  standard 
is  Chririllan,  and  whatever  in  the  way  of  doctrine  and  life  does  not  square 
with  that  standard  is  not  Christian.  Of  course  this  is  not  intended  as 
liulicluicut  of  any  other  standard  of  doctrine  and  life.  It  is  not  claiming 
tl-.al  IJrahnianism  is  not  an  admirable  standard  of  opinion  and  conduct, 
iior  Is  it  alleging  that  a  Parsee  may  not  be  a  good  man  and  entertain 
inoit  excellent  viev;s.  It  is  only  urging,  as  we  are  justly  and  logically 
bound  to  urge,  that  Christianity  takes  its  name  from  Christ,  that  it  is  a 
Bystom  of  faith  and  practice  that  uniformly,  for  a  good  many  hundred 
yoart!.  has  beeu  recognized  as  the  system  that  is  set  down  in  the  Gospels 
and  ICpistles,  with  a  distinct  emphasis  laid  upon  the  fact,  both  by  Chiist 
nsul  the  apostles,  that  the  Man  of  the  Gospels  is  the  Sou  of  God  in  a  sense 
which  we  may  not  be  able  detailedly  to  express,  but  in  a  sense,  never- 
Ihcless,  which  differentiates  him  absolutely  from  every  other  creature  and 
nialics  of  him  a  divinely  open  door  into  the  heart  and  mind  of  God;  and 
all  of  this  is  written  out  with  such  completeness  and  reiteration  of  state- 
uieril  through  all  the  pages  of  the  New  Testament — that  standard  text- 
book of  Christianity — that  whoever  does  not  accept  Christ  in  that 
character  denies  to  himself  the  right  to  assume  to  himself  the  Christian 
name. 

"Now,  that  is  honest,  and  plain  and  logical.  The  New  Testament 
viakes  Christ  in  his  divinity  the  central  fact  of  the  ichole  system,  and 
however  many  particular  elements  one  may  pick  out  from  that  system, 
hi  excludes  himself  from  the  system  if  he  denies  that  ingredient  of  it 
Khich  is  its  determining  center.  A  man  does  not  need  to  go  to  a  theo- 
logical seminary  nor  even  to  a  high  school  to  understand  that,  and  to 
appreciate  its  force  an.d  pertinence.  "We  are  not  going  to  undervalue 
fjoodness  wherever  it  occurs,  but  Christianity  is  something  distinctive; 
W  comprises  a  range  of  ideas  and  a  reservoir  of  impulses  that  stand  apart 
from  ihe  commonplace  sentiments  and  energies  that  had  beeu  recognized 
prior  to  the  Christian  era  and  that  continue  to  be  recognized  outside  of 
iho  genuinely  Christian  domain;  and  in  all  this  empire  of  purely  and 
originally  Christian  thought  the  master  conception  is  the  transcendent 
i'Hng  and  character  of  Jesus  Christ,  transcendent  to  the  point  of  divinity." 
Addressing  himself  more  directly  to  the  strange  utterances  of  the  retired 
university  president.  Dr.  Parkhurst  says  that  the  doctrine  of  a  divine 
lU-deemer,  considered  as  the  master  truth  of  Christianity,  has  been 
dc-anitely  and  urgently  brought  to  notice  by  the  contents  of  the  secular 
"8  well  as  of  the  religious  press,  making  it  evident  that  something  has 
tH't-n  thrown  into  the  pool  of  religious  discussion  which  has  ruffled  its 
waters  Into  considerable  disquiet.  Dr.  Parkhurst  goes  on:  "Now,  however 
proat  the  disquiet  thus  induced,  it  is  one  of  the  most  persuasive  proofs 
of  our  own  steadfastness  of  faith  and  of  the  power  over  us  of  Him  in 
*hom  we  believe  that  that  disquiet  is  unable  to  extend  itself  within  the 
prorlnris  of  our  own  soul's  experience.  And  there  is  more  to  be  said  even 
than  that.  There  are  certain  results  of  value  likely  to  accrue  from  dis- 
turbi-d  conditions  that  are  not  as  liable  to  issue  from  a  state  of  stagnation, 
"n-  words  spoken  by  the  ex-president  of  Harvard  University  are  a  kind 


150  Methodist  Jieview  [January 

of  bugle  note  sounded  5n  the  ears  of  Christians  T%-ho  had  drowsily  couched 
themselves  in  the  cradle  of  a  careless  and  unthinking  theology.  His  words 
have  had  the  effect  upon  some  of  us — and  I  can  speak  for  one — have  had 
the  effect  to  remand  us  back  to  our  Christ,  to  communicate  to  us  a 
renewed  appreciation  of  the  transcendent  contents  and  majestic  appeal 
of  our  lioly  faith  and  of  the  incalculable  majesty,  spiritual  majesty,  of 
him  who  has  made  himself  so  widely  sovereign  in  the  thoughts,  passion, 
hopes,  and  purposes  of  the  last  score  of  centuries.  A  man  sometimes  for- 
gets his  faith  till  iufidelity  has  waylaid  him  and  flung  at  him  its  challenge; - 
sometimes  forgets  that  the  p'.rsoiial  divine  Christ  is  the  Alpha  and 
Omega  of  Christianity  till  the  sanctuary  of  faith  is  rudely  invaded  with 
the  intent  to  confiscate  its  mercy  seat  and  shekhina.  We  shall  be  inclined 
to  regard  such  disturbing  pronunciamento  as  has  recently  issued  from  Cam- 
bridge as  a  part  of  God's  plan  for  calling  careless  believers  back  to  the  full 
and  wealthy  meaning  and  power  of  their  own  forgotten  convictions;  liken- 
ing it  to  one  of  those  sjjring  inundations  that  sometimes  come  down  upon 
the  low^lands  from  the  high  hills,  working  momentary  confusion  and 
occasional  panicky  distress,  but  leaving  behind  it  as  it  recedes  a  fresh 
deposit  of  virgin  soil  out  from  wliich  in  the  later  months  will  proceed  a 
more  abundant  harvest  of  fruits  and  grains.  If  we  are  to  trust  the  pub- 
lished reports  of  Dr.  Eliot's  utterances  he  has  put  himself  definitely 
outside  the  pale  of  Christianity.  By  the  implications  of  bis  own  assertion 
he  is  not  a  Christian,  which  is  to  say  that  he  does  not  mark  up  to  the 
standard  of  belief  expressed  by  the  New  Testament  Scriptures,  entertained 
by  the  New  Testament  apostles,  and  inherited  from  them  by  the  New 
Testament  church;  and  it  is  to  the  combined  testimony  of  these  threci 
that  we  have  to  look  for  an  understanding  of  what  essential  Christianity 
is  as  a  matter  of  doctrine  and  not  to  the  president  emeritus  of  Harvard 
University.  That  clears  the  air  somewhat,  and  gives  us  to  realize  that 
when  he  speaks,  he  speaks  not  from  the  standpoint  of  Christianity,  but 
from  the  standpoint  of  infideUty.  And  while  it  need  hardly  be  said  that 
this  involves  no  indictment  of  his  own  personal  character,  it  classifies 
him  with  that  school  of  thought  with  which  are  his  true  belongings,  and 
by  putting  him  disiincthj  outside  the  pale  of  original  Xew  Testament 
Christianity  enables  those  who  still  stand  by  the  spirit  and  form  of 
gospel  truth  to  determine  just  what  kind  of  estimate  should  be  placed 
upon  his  confident  asseverations  and  prognostications.  To  this  should 
be  added  the  fact  that  in  these  asseverations  and  prognostications  there 
is  absolutely  nothing  new.  He  has  simply  voiced  in  terms  of  strong  and 
Impressive  English  that  denial  of  the  New  Testament  Christ,  and  reduction 
of  everything  to  the  fiat  domain  of  natural  law.  which  has  been  continually 
cropping  out  and  coming  to  more  or  less  distinct  utterance  through  all 
the  theological  history  of  the  centuries.  It  is  always  the  case  that  when 
a  speaker  or  writer  is  able  to  put  an  old  idea  in  an  original  form  it  is 
bis  idea  that  gets  credited  with  originality  instead  of  the  terms  in  which 
he  states  the  idea.  But  even  so  the  attention  drawn  to  his  oracular 
pronunciamento  is  due  less  to  the  mode  in  wliich  he  has  stated  his  Infidel 
views  than  to  the  distinction  he  has  gained  in  quite  other  departments 


]jilO]  Glimpses  of  Bevleivs  and  Magazines  151 

of  study  and  research — departments,  r  have  no  hesitation  in  saying, 
wJikh  endow  him  with  no  exceinional  qualification  for  speal<iug  with 
:iulliority  along  lines  of  spiritual  truth.  This  is  not  the  first  time  that  a 
j!)aii  of  extraordinary  ahility,  who  has  learned  to  know  one  thing 
thoroughly  well,  thinks  himself  thereby  justified  in  indoctrinating  his 
cdiitcniporaries  upon  matters  to  which  he  has  not  especially  devoted 
himself  and  of  which  he  knows  no  more  than  they,  and  possibly,  sometimes, 
not  as  much.  Any  man  who  knows  anything,  unless  he  knows  it  in  a 
vory  modest  way,  is  liable  to  think  that  he  knows  more  than  he  does. 
Human  nature  is  peculiar  and  we  all  have  it.  This  tendency  illustrated 
by  the  ex-president  of  Harvard  University,  of  attempting  to  sound  the 
(l(I)th9  of  spiritual  reality  with  the  plumb-line  of  scientific  thought,  is 
not  a  new  one,  and  proceeds  upon  the  false  assumption  that  there  is 
nothing  in  the  world  too  fine  to  escape  the  detection  and  the  appreciation 
of  disciplined  intellect.  There  is  a  great  deal  that  comes  into  life  which 
never  entered  there  along  any  logical  roadway  of  refined  and  exquisite 
tl'.lnking.  The  heart  too  has  reasons  of  which  the  brain  knov\-s  nothing. 
Discipline  of  a  certain  kind  dis-qualifies,  more  than  it  qualifies,  for  the 
discovery  of  the  best  which  life  has  to  give  and  the  best  which  it  is 
competent  to  receive.  There  is  a  close  kind  of  ratiocination  which,  while 
it  oi)ens  the  smaller  doors  of  discovery,  slams  to  with  a  bang  doors  that 
are  larger.  A  man  whose  principal  function  of  discernment  is  of  the 
cerebral  order  will  create  for  himself  and  for  others  a  world  whose  very 
flatness  makes  it  easily  intelligible  and  the  simplicity  of  whose  arrange- 
ments makes  facile  appeal  to  the  unambitious  sense  of  what  is  systema- 
tized and  methodical;  but  such  a  world  is  not  an  interesting  world.  It 
is  not  a  Avorld  that  nourishes  long  thoughts,  high  aims,  and  the  sweetest 
nobility  of  life.  It  takes  clouds  as  well  as  transparent  sunshine  to  make 
out  God's  world,  and  stars  to  glimmer  in  the  firmament  as  well  as  candles 
and  hinterns  to  shed  ambiguous  patches  of  light  on  the  ground,  in  order 
to  complete  a  universe  that  will  measure  up  to  the  requirements  of  the  soul. 
In  the  natural  world  the  best  part  of  any  landscape  is  that  point  along 
the  edge  of  the  world  where  the  things  that  are  visible  shade  off  and  melt 
uway  into  the  unseen.  The  fault  with  the  kind  of  religious  philosophizing 
lo  which  we  have  recently  been  treated  is  that  it  imprisons  the  spirit 
^viihin  a  horizon  that  is  near  and  that  is  so  sharply  lined  as  to  discourage 
fiiispieicn  that  there  is  much  of  anything  beyond  the  horizon.  And  a 
t^mall  fiat  world  makes  small  flat  souls.  A  world  furnished  with  no  broad 
ocean  transforms  human  spirits  into  patches  of  Sahara.  It  is  therefore 
that  history,  when  it  has  moved  forward,  has  moved  under  the  shep- 
Jierding  guidance  of  men  and  women  whose  presentiments  outran  the  slow 
pace  of  analytical  thought,  and  whose  experiences  were  able  to  maintain 
themselves  at  an  altitude  to  v/hich  unwinged  logic  was  incompetent  to 
Boar.  The  great  things  of  the  past  centuries  have  been  done  at  the 
•  nipulso  and  inspiration  of  convictions  and  experiences  for  which  there 
'h  no  place  allowed  in  the  four-cornered  scheme  of  the  Cambridge  oracle. 
Our  Teutonic  ancestors  were  brought  out  of  the  woods  into  civilization 
^y  men  whose  consciences  grasped  upon  a  higher  law  than  any  enacted 


1")2  Methodist  Bccicw  [January 

.hy  the  legislature  of  nature  and  whose  fealty  was  to  the  same  Christ  that 
transformed  Saul  into  Paul,  and  that  has  been  the  presiding:  genius  of 
those  souls  that  have  shone  with  the  warmest  fervor  and  the  purest  light 
during  all  these  centuries.  In  a  biographical  sketch  recently  published, 
in  which  reference  is  made  to  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  Charles  G.  Finney 
and  Theodore  Parker,  all  of  whom  stood  out  distinct  before  the  public 
eye  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  the  writer  says:  'Plymouth 
Church,  which  Mr.  Beecher  founded,  is  still  a  prosperous  church,  whose 
pastor  addresses  nearly  as  large  congregations  as  did  Mr.  Beecher; 
Oberliu  College,  which  Dr.  Finney  founded,  is  one  of  the  great  universi- 
ties of  America,  with  an  apparently  illimitable  influence  before  it.  The 
congregation  of  Theodore  Parker  disappeared  at  his  death;  and  the  only 
material  monument  to  his  name  is  the  centenary  edition  of  his  works.' 
With  as  Jiard,  hloodless,  and  visionless  a  philosophy  as  has  just  henn 
oracularly  offgred  to  our  acceptance  we  should  have  no  Young  Men's  Chris- 
tian Associations,  no  Salvation  Army,  no  missionaries  wearing  out  their 
lives  on  the  frontier  or  making  their  blood  an  offering  on  the  altar  of 
Christian  sacrifice.  Said  to  me  recently,  the  secretary  of  one  of  our 
foreign  missionary  boards:  'We  have  thousands  of  missionaries  that 
leave  home  and  comforts  behind  them  to  go  abroad  and  preach  a  Christed 
gospel,  but  I  have  no  record  of  anyone  who  has  the  enthusiasm  to  go 
to  the  heathen  and  proclaim  to  them  a  Christless  philosophy.'  A  tree 
is  known  by  its  fruits.  The  test  of  value  is  its  producing  energy,  llic 
sweetest  thoughts  embalmed  in  literature,  the  finest  lives  recorded  in  the 
annals  of  human  biography,  the  most  thrilling  passages  in  the  progress 
of  the  world's  history,  have  been  God's  gift  to  the  world  through  his  Son 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  By  every  argument  deducihle  from  the  past,  by 
every  reason  derivable  from  the  tenderest  and  strongest  experience  of 
those  ichose  vision  has  pressed  most  deeply  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
spiritual  world,  our  loving  faith  cannot  falter  in  its  loyalty  to  the  divine 
Christ.  By  him  ue  stand  and  to  him  xcill  we  continue  to  render  the 
tribute  of  our  love  and  confidence,  our  service,  and  our  praise." 

Ex-President  Eliot,  writing  to  an  Indiana  attorney,  Douglas  Robbins, 
in  leply  to  the  lawyer's  criticism  of  his  "New  Religion,"  said:  "Jesus 
will  be  in  the  religion  of  the  future,  not  less  but  more  than  in  the  Chris- 
tianity of  the  past."  That  statement  is  truer  than  its  author  means  or 
realizes.  Jesus  will  be  more  and  more  the  heart  and  center  of  religion 
in  the  future,  not  as  the  Unitarian's  good  man,  teacher,  and  exemplar, 
but  as  the  divine  Christ  who  is,  as  Dr.  Parkhurst  says,  the  Alpha  and 
Omega  of  the  Christian  system,  the  Lord  our  Saviour,  blessed  and  only 
Potentate,  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords,  "worthy  at  all  times  of 
worship  and  wonder."  Any  gospel  less  than  this  is  inadequate  and  not 
worth  preaching. 


jr)i(j]  Bcoh  Kollces  153 


BOOK  NOTICES 

RELIGION,     THEOLOGY.     AND     BIBLICAL     LITERATURE 

Chruhanitu  IB  Christ.     By  W.  H.  Griffith  Thomas,  D.D..  Princip.tl  of  Wycliffe  Hall,  Ox- 
fonl.     16mo,  pp.  12S.     New  York:  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.     Price,  cloth,  40  cents,  net. 

Wk  heartily  commend  to  our  readers  this  little  handbook,  which  aims 
to  present  in  short  popular  form  the  substance  of  what  luts  been  written  in 
Ti'cxni  years  on  the  central  subject  of  Christianity — the  Person  and  Work 
of  Clirist.  Opposition  to  Christianity  is  now  centering  itself  upon  Christ's 
personality.  This  compact  and  inexpensive  volume  is  a  summary  of  the 
Christian  position  as  stated  by  its  leading  modern  exponents.  This  Is 
one  of  the  series  of  "Anglican  Church  Handbooks"  published  by  the 
IvOiigmans  firm.  Christianity  is  the  only  religion  in  the  world  which  rests 
on  the  Person  of  its  Founder.  Christianity  is  so  inextricably  bound  up 
with  Christ  that  our  view  of  the  Person  of  Christ  involves  and  determines 
our  view  of  Christianity.  "What  think  ye  of  Christ?"  is  the  crucial  problem 
and  the  decisive  test  to-day,  as  it  has  been  all  through  the  centuries. 
With  sure  instinct,  both  the  followers  and  the  opponents  of  Christianity 
perceive  this.  Here  is  the  point  of  the  enemy's  attack,  and  here  we  must 
make  our  defense.  The  fundamental  issue  is  this:  Is  Jesus  Christ  God? 
There  is  no  real  alternative  between  an  affirmative  reply  to  that  question 
and  the  removal  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the  supreme  place  which  he  has 
occupied  in  the  Christian  Church  through  the  centuries.  At  this  point 
Christianity,  as  it  has  beeu  known  through  the  ages,  stands  or  falls. 
Carlyle  recognized  this  when  he  said,  "Had  this  doctrine  of  the  divinity 
of  Christ  been  lost,  Christianity  would  have  vanished  like  a  dream."  So, 
also,  Lccky  truly  says:  "Christianity  is  not  a  system  of  morals;  it  is  the 
worsliiii  of  a  Person."  Napoleon  said,  "I  know  men,  and  Jesus  Christ  is 
lot  a  rnan."  Bushnell  said  truly,  "The  character  of  Jesus  Christ  forbids 
hi.;  possible  classification  with  men."  John  Stuart  Mill  said  that  Christ  is 
'a  unique  Figure,  not  more  unlike  all  his  predecessors  than  all  his  fol- 
lowfTs."  From  Dr.  Warfield  this  is  quoted:  "Grant  that  Jesus  was  really 
Cod.  in  a  word,  and  everything  falls  orderly  into  its  place.  Deny  it,  and 
you  have  a  Jesus  and  a  Christianity  on  your  hands  both  equally  unac- 
countable: and  that  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  the  ultimate  proof  of  the 
I'l'ity  of  Christ  is  just— Jesus  and  Christianity.  If  Christ  were  not  God, 
>*»•  sliould  have  a  very  different  Jesus  and  a  very  different  Christianity. 
And  that  is  the  reason  that  modern  unbelief  bends  all  its  energies  in  a 
v;tln  effort  to  abolish  the  historical  Jesus  and  to  destroy  historical  Chris- 
li'uiity.  Its  instinct  is  right,  but  its  task  is  hopeless.  We  need  the  Jesus 
of  history  to  account  for  the  Christianity  of  history.  And  we  need  both  the 
Ji'«us  of  history  and  the  Christianity  of  history  to  account  for  the  history 
of  Ihft  world.  The  hi.'^tory  of  the  world  is  the  product  of  that  precise  Chris- 
t'inlly  wliich  has  actually  existed,  and  this  Christianity  is  the  product  of 
Hie  i;rcclse  Jesus  which  actually  was.    To  be  rid  of  this  Jesus  we  must  be 


154  Methodist  Eevieiv  [January 

rid  of  this  rhristianity.  and  to  be  rid  of  this  Christianity  we  m\ist  be  rid 
of  the  world-history  which  has  grcv.n  o-.ii  of  it.  We  must  have  the  Chris- 
tianity of  history  and  the  Jesus  of  history,  or  we  leave  the  world  that 
exists,  and  as  it  exists,  unaccounted  for.  But  so  long  as  we  have  either  the 
Jesus  of  history  or  the  Christianity  of  history  we  shall  have  a  divine 
Jesus."  Je.sus  Christ  gives  to  Christianity  its  manifold  superiority  over 
all  other  faiths.  Sir  Edwin  Arnold  having  been  criticised  for  undue  ad- 
miration of  Hindu  philosophy  and  religion  replied:  'Tor  me  Christianity 
is  tlie  crowned  queen  of  religions,  and  immensely  superior  to  every  other. 
I  would  not  give  away  one  verse  of  Christ's  Sermon  on  the  Islount  for 
twenty  epic  poems  lilce  the  Mahabharaia,  nor  exchange  Christ's  Golden 
Rule  for  twenty  new  Upanishads."  The  chapter  on  the  "Resurrection  of 
Christ"  contains  this  story:  "Lord  LA-ttloion  and  his  friend  Gilbert  V/est  left 
the  university  at  the  close  of  one  academic  year,  each  determining  to  give 
attention  respectively  during  the  long  vacation  to  the  conversion  of  Saint 
Paul  and  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  wiih  a  view  to  proving  the  baselessness 
of  both.  They  met  again  in  the  autumn  and  compared  experiences.  Lord 
Lyttleton  had  become  convinced  of  tee  truth  of  Paul's  conversion,  and 
Gilbert  West  of  the  truth  of  Christ's  resurrection."  If,  therefore,  says  our 
author,  Paul's  twenty-five  years  of  service  and  suffering  for  Jesus  Christ 
was  a  reality,  then  his  conversion  was  true,  for  everything  he  did  began 
with  and  flowed  from  that  sudden  and  mighty  change.  And  if  his  con- 
version was  true,  then  Jesus  Christ  rose  from  the  dead;  for  everything 
Paul  was  and  did  he  attributed  to  his  sight  of  the  risen  Christ,  and  the 
burden  of  all  his  preaching  was  Jesus  and  the  resurrection."  The  follov/- 
ing  story  is  also  given:  "A  well-known  American  scholar  in  his  early  min- 
istry many  years  agq  preached  a  course  of  sermons  on  the  resurrection. 
In  which  he  stated  and  tested  the  various  arguments  to  the  fullest  extent 
of  his  power.  There  was  present  in  his  audience  an  eminent  lawyer,  the 
head  of  the  legal  professicn  in  the  city.  He  listened  to  the  preacher  Sun- 
day by  Sunday  as  he  marshaled  proofs,  weighed  evidence,  considered  ob- 
jections, analyzed  the  stories  of  the  Gospels,  and  stated  the  case  for  the 
resurrection.  At  length  the  conclusion  was  drawn  by  the  preacher  that 
Christianity  must  be  true  since  Jesus  was  raised  from  the  dead.  At  the 
close  of  the  last  sermon  the  lawyer  went  to  see  the  minister  and  said:  'I 
am  a  lawyer;  I  have  listened  to  your  statement  of  the  case;  I  consider  it 
incontrovertible,  but  this  case  demands  a  verdict.  This  is  no  mere  intel- 
lectual conflict;  there  is  life  in  it.  If  Jesus  Christ  rose  from  the  dead,  his 
religion  is  true,  and  we  must  submit  to  it.'  The  lawyer  was  as  good  as 
his  word  and  became  a  Christian."  Dr.  Thomas's  valuable  book  concludes 
thus:  "We  see,  then,  that  Christ  is  essential.  Christ  i?  fundamental,  Christ 
is  all.  We  may,  like  some,  reject  him.  We  may,  like  others,  be  impressed 
and  attracted  without  definitely  yielding  to  him.  Or  we  may  be  intellec- 
tually convinced  and  yet  try  to  evade  him.  But  the  one  thing  we  cannot 
do  is  to  ignore  him.  'What  think  ye  of  Christ?'  is  a  question  that  has  to 
be  answered.  'What  shall  I  do  with  Jesus?'  is  a  question  that  cannot  be 
avoided.  The  question  is  far  too  serious  to  be  ignored  even  if  we  could  do 
so.    The  remarkable  fact  about  Christ  is  that,  unlike  every  other  founder 


in  10]  Booh  Notices  155 

of  religion,  he  cannot  possibly  be  oveiiopked.  Even  the  attempt  to  ignore 
him  is  In  reality  a  confession  of  an  opinion  about  him.  Indifferentism  is 
po;--.'  llile  about  many  things,  but  absolutely  impossible  about  Christ.  Christ's 
rnll  to  the  soul  is  fourfold:  Come  unto  Me,  Learn  of  Me,  Follow  Me,  Abide 
In  Me.  Come  unto  Me  as  Redeemer;  Learn  of  Me  as  Teacher;  Follow  Me  as 
Master;  Abide  in  me  as  Life.  And  all  that  is  required  of  us  is  the  one 
Bulhciout  and  inclusive  attitude  of  soul  which  the  New  Testament 
Knows  as  faith  {-lartleLv  at).  This  attitude  and  response  of  trust,  self-sur- 
ron<l».'r,  dependence,  is  the  essential  attitude  and  response  of  the  soul  of 
man  to  God.  Every  sincere  man  kuov.s  full  well  the  impossibility  of 
roalizlug  his  true  life  in  isolation,  apart  from  God.  Faith  as  man's  re- 
sjionse  to  God  forever  puts  an  end  to  the  spiritual  helplessness  and  hope- 
lessness of  the  solitary  man.  It  introduces  him  to  a  new  relationship  to 
God  in  Christ,  and  opens  the  door  to  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of  light 
and  life.  It  is  the  means  whereby  the  needed  strength,  satisfaction,  and 
Bccurity  come  to  the  soul  from  fellowship  with  God.  Faith  introduces  the 
Eoul  into  a  new  world  of  blessed  fellov/ship,  uplifting  motives,  satisfying 
Lxporienees,  and  spiritual  powers,  and  from  the  moment  the  attitude  cf 
trii.st  is  taken  up  the  Holy  Spirit  begins  his  work  of  revealing  Jesus  Christ 
lo  the  soul.  He  brings  into  the  heart  the  assurance  of  forgiveness  and 
dolivcrance  from  the  burden  of  the  past,  he  bestows  on  the  soul  the  gift 
of  Ihe  divine  life,  and  then  he  commences  a  work  that  is  never  finished 
Jn  this  life  of  assimilating  our  lives  to  that  of  Christ,  working  in  us  that 
Clirlstlikeness  which  is  the  essential  and  unique  element  of  the  gospel 
flhic.  in  the  deep  and  dim  recesses  of  our  personality  the  Holy  Spirit 
works  his  blessed  and  marvelous  way,  transfiguring  character,  uplifting 
Ideals,  inspiring  hopes,  creating  joys,  and  providing  perfect  satisfaction. 
And  as  we  continue  to  maintain  and  deepen  the  attitude  of  faith  the  Holy 
Sidrlt  is  enabled  to  do  his  work  and  we  are  enabled  to  receive  more  of  his 
rr.ire,  "That  we  might  receive  the  promise  of  the  Spirit' through  faith' 
(G:il.  3.  14).  By  every  act  of  trust  and  self-surrender  we  receive  ever 
InrKcr  measures  of  the  life  of  Christ,  and  all  the  while  we  are  being 
rhanged  into  the  image  of  Christ  'from  glory  to  glory'  by  the  Spirit  of  the 
Ixjrd."     At  the  very  end  are  W'hittier's  adoring  lines: 

Apart  from  thee  all  gain  is  loss, 

All  labor  vainly  done  ; 
The  solemn  shadow  of  thy  Cross 

Is  better  than  the  sun. 

Alone,  O  Love  ineffable, 

Thy  saving  Name  is  given  ; 
To  turn  aside  from  thee  is  hell, 

To  walk  with  thoe  is  heaven. 

Wc  faintly  hear,  we  dimly  see, 

In  differing  iihras^e  wc  pray; 
But,  dim  or  clear,  wc  own  in  Thee 

The  Light,  the  Truth,  the  Way. 


150  McOiodist  jReview  [January 

The  Chrittian  MinUlry  and  the  Social  Order.  Lectures  Delivered  at  Yale  Divinity  School. 
190S-1909.  Edited  by  Cha.kle3  S.  Macfarland.  Crowu  8vo.  pp.  303.  New  Uaveu 
(Connecticut):  Yale  University  Press.    Price,  cloth,  S1.50. 

The  designated  scope  of  these  lectures  reminds  us  of  the  proposal 
of  a  certain  Englishman  named  Buckingham,  that  a  ship  be  provided  and 
manned  for  him  "to  investigate  the  world."  It  is  matter  of  record  that 
he  obtained  subscriptions  for  this  project  from  several  notable  persons. 
but  that  he  disappeared  with  the  money  without  fulfilling  his  ambitious 
enterprise.  We  cannot  restrain  the  feeling  that,  if  any  considerable  num- 
ber of  young  ministers  were  to  attempt  to  put  into  execution  all  the 
suggestions  contained  in  this  book,  the  majority  of  them  would  fall  into 
intellectual  bankruptcy  and  physical  exhaustion,  to  say  nothing  of  spir- 
itual depletion.  The  exactions  of  the  ministry  in  our  day  surpass  those 
of  any  other  profession  whatsoever,  and  great  care  should  be  exercised 
lest  the  apparent  exigencies  of  modern  civilizatiou  be  permitted  to  put 
an  undue  strain  upon  men  who  are  already  carrying  burdens  almost  too 
great  for  them  to  bear.  The  editor  of  this  volume,  who  is  also  one  of  its 
most  important  contributors,  perceives  this  peril,  and  admonishes  his 
auditors  to  beware  of  a  ministry  which  is  too  miscellaneous.  "I  shall 
fail  of  my  object."  he  says,  "if  I  lead  you  to  suppose  that  you  are  to 
dissipate  your  forces  and  spread  yourselves  out  thin."  Yet  it  is  difficult 
to  see  how  the  average  minister  can  avoid  this  catastrophe  if  he  follows 
the  advices  of  this  author  to  the  letter.  For  the  minister  he  describes  is 
"a  man  to  be  reckoned  with  in  every  great  movement,  a  man  to  be  con- 
sulted upon  all  important  questions  affecting  the  life  of  the  people,  a 
dominant  force  in  the  making  and  the  molding  of  the  democratic  order." 
That  these  are  not  general  terms,  simply  raising  an  ideal  to  charm  the 
Imagination  of  ambitious  ministers,  is  evident  from  the  specifications 
and  illustrations  which  follow.  "There  may  be  no  other  gospels  than 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ;  for  his  was  the  gospel,  not  of  the  church,  but 
of  the  kingdom.  But  there  are  other  gospels  than  that  which  the  church 
herself  has  directly  taught.  Tbere  is  the  great  gospel  of  Labor;  every 
Sunday  afternoon,  all  over  the  world,  great  bodies  of  men  are  getting 
together  and  are  preaching  this  gospel  and  loving  this  gospel  of  theirs. 
There  is  also  the  great  gospel  of  Socialism.  JTen  and  women  are 
even  gathering  together  their  Socialist  Sunday  schools  all  over  the  land. 
This,  too.  Is  a  splendid  gospel,  whatever  we  may  say  of  its  limited  equii)- 
raent,  cf  it.s  mistaken  means  and  methods.  .  .  .  There  are  these  and  count- 
less others.  The  gospel  of  Anti-Tuberculosis,  the  gospel  of  the  Fraternal 
Orders;  such  and  many  others  we  must  think  about,  nay,  more,  we  must 
have  our  part  and  place  in  them.  It  is  all  these,  together  with  the  gospel 
of  the  church,  that  make  up  what  Christ  calls,  in  the  light  of  his  infinite 
vision,  the  kingdom  of  God.  My  thesis,  then,  is  that  the  minister  is  to 
become  the  minister,  the  guide,  the  director  of  all  these  great  move- 
ments of  mankind."  in  order  that  this  may  be  accomplished,  the  lecturer 
declares.  "The  Christian  Church  ought  to  become  a  great  clearing  house 
for  all  these  humanitarian  transactions."  .  This  necessitates  a  theory  of 
the  true  basis  of  church  mcml)ership  which  is  unconventional,  to  say  the 


\\\}0]  Book  Notices  167 

liast.  "What  is  the  church  for?"  asks  the  speaker,  and  ansv:ers:  '"To 
hill)  men  live  right.  How,  then,  can  we  do  it  best?  By  having  them  on 
the  inside  or  bj'  keeping  them  on  the  outside,  by  exclusion  and  probation, 
or  by  fellowship  with  them?  ...  It  will  take  only  a  little  thought  to  show 
u?  that  the  church  must  have  an  absolutely  open  door,  without  any  con- 
cllllons  whatever  to  its  entrance."  This  contention  the  author  argues 
with  much  eloquence,  but  he  admits  the  difBcuIty  of  convincing  large 
bodies  of  Christians  that  it  is  a  justifiable  policy.  "You  will  find,  if  you 
Ko  out  Inspired  by  some  such  conception  as  this,  that  you  will  need  to 
cii-ate  in  your  people  a  very  new  conception  of  the  church  and  the  min- 
istry. You  must  show  them  that  you  are  not  there  just  to  serve  and  run 
.•ibout  for  them,  but  that  you  and  they  are  there  together  to  serve  the 
world.  They  will  not  see  this  at  first;  they  will  want  you  to  give  your- 
polf,  your  time,  your  talents,  to  a  great  many  very  small  things  in  their 
behalf.  You  must  give  them  a  larger  view."  Doubtless,  there  are  many 
congregations  which  need  this  teaching,  but  just  as  surely  there  are  some 
miuisters  who  do  not  require  it,  being  already  too  prone  to  refrain  from 
l-orforming  the  prior  obligations  of  a  pastor  to  his  immediate  flock. 
Having  determined  the  broadest  possible  policy  for  the  church,  it  next 
becomes  necessary  to  inquire  how  the  minister  who  is  imbued  with  these 
r.ew  conceptions,  and  who  has  been  trained  for  his  immense  task  in  a 
tiioroughly  up-to-date  theological  seminary,  shall  get  himself  into  influ- 
ential relations  with  the  heterogeneous  constituency  of  his  enlarged 
parish.  "How  is  the  minister  to  get  access  to  all  these  elements  of  de- 
mocracy?" He  is  to  be,  "in  the  higher  sense  of  the  term,  an  opportunist." 
Having  acquired  some  knowledge  of  foreign  languages,  he  is  to  conduct 
funeral  services  in  alien  tongues,  for  such  as  will  be  gratified  thereby. 
He  is  to  claim  every  man  who  has  no  church  relations  as  liis  own  parish- 
loner,  and  address  pastoral  epistles  to  him  as  such.  He  is  to  get  the  men 
of  the  community  together  for  social  intercourse  and  the  discussion  of 
public  questions,  preferably  in  the  minister's  home  and  with  such  accom- 
paniments as  are  acceptable  to  men.  He  is  to  put  himself  always  at  the 
service  of  the  people,  announcing  that  "he  will  respond  to  any  request  of 
any  kind.  He  will  call,  upon  request  or  suggestion,  for  any  purpose  de- 
fiired."  He  is  to  use  the  newspapers  industriously,  and  through  them  he 
Is  to  make  it  clear  to  the  public  that  he  is  "the  open  champion  of  popular 
and  righteous  democratic  causes."  He  is  to  "say  a  good  word  for  the 
.U'ws.  Get  in  touch  with  the  black  men."  He  is  to  employ  his  pulpit  to 
commend  "the  work  of  the  various  servants  of  human  society."  He  is  to 
iiiingle  with  the  teachers  of  the  public  schools,  to  invite  the  graduating 
f^lass  of  the  high  school  to  hear  him  "preach  them  an  annual  sermon." 
He  is  to  "father  such  institutions  as  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Republic." 
He  Is  to  "drop  in  on  the  firemen  and  policemen  once  in  awhile."  He  is  to 
5*I'Ply  himself  to  rescue  mission  work.  "Keep  in  association  with  the 
^'alvation  Army."  These  are  only  casual  suggestions.  There  are  other 
methods  which  will  occur  to  the  ingenious  opportunist.  The  results  will 
Justify  the  expenditure  of  time  and  effort.  Among  other  things  this  line 
*'f  rrocedure  "will  give  you  power  and  votes  when  you  are  called  upoa 


158  M(.'thodisi  Beview  [Jaiuiary 

to  participate  in  political  life  and  civic  reform.  As  society  is  now  con- 
stituted you  will  be  almosi  a  cipher  in  moving  and  molding  the  moral 
social  order,  unless  you  become  a  vital  factor  in  the  background  of  politi- 
cal life You  are  not  to  leave  political  life   to   be   dominated   by 

wretched  selfish  demagogues.  You  are  to  contest  political  leadership  with 
them."  This  is  a  large  program,  but  it  is  amplified  to  more  appalling 
proportions  by  the  further  suggestions  of  this  lecturer  and  others  who 
contribute  to  the  volume.  These  include  the  mastery  of  the  whole  labor 
problem,  a  personal  identification  of  oneself  with  the  International  Peace 
Movement  and  other  world-wide  reforms,  and,  indeed,  the  distribution  of 
one's  interest  and  efiori  to  everything  which  seeks  the  amelioration  of 
misery  and  the  general  improvement  of  civili^^ation.  All  this  is  very  fine, 
and  points  to  a  high  ideal  for  the  modern  Protestant  minister.  But  as  a 
working  plan  it  applies  only  to  the  exceptional  minister  confronted  by  an 
exceptional  situation.  The  principles  involved  in  it  are  admirable,  and 
have  always  been  adopted,  within  reasonable  limits,  by  successful  preach- 
ers. But  for  the  majority  of  men  this  bill  of  particulars  is  too  exhaustive. 
The  editor  of  this  volume,  Dr.  Cliarles  S.  Macfarland,  is  pastor  of  a  Con- 
gregational church  in  a  large  manufacturing  city.  He  has  been  able  to  do 
all  the  things  he  mentions  in  this  book,  and  others  which  are  not  cata- 
logued. But  it  is  unwarranted  assumption  to  suppose  that  many  men 
can  approach  his  measure.  If  they  will  emulate  his  spirit  in  such  prac- 
tical ways  as  are  open  to  them  in  conjunction  with  the  first  and  unde- 
niable demands  of  their  immediate  pastorate,  they  will  be  doing  all  that 
can  reasonably  be  asked  of  them.  One  of  the  sanest  and  most  suggestive 
lectures  in  this  series  was  delivered  by  the  Rev.  Anson  Phelps  Stokes, 
Jr.,  on  "The  Essentials  of  a  Ministry  to  Men."  He  urges  the  importance 
of  wide  and  varied  knowledge  of  books  and  men,  but  protests  against  the 
minister  supposing  himself  to  be  a  cyclopa-dia  of  all  wisdom.  He  insists 
that  the  discreet  minister  will  make  himself  a  specialist  on  one  or  two 
phases  of  the  current  social  awakening.  "The  minister  who  thinks  that 
he  can  speak  authoritatively  on  the  solution  of  the  liquor  problem,  and  on 
biblical  criticism,  and  on  educational  reform,  and  on  the  organization  of 
industry,  and  on  the  race  issue,  can  be  found  in  every  community.  But 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  only  know  tv/o  or  three  ministers  who  have  studied 
any  one  of  these  questions  really  deeply.  ...  If  you  men  make  religion 
your  master  passion,  your  major,  as  you  should  in  your  ministry,  and  if 
you  take  up  as  your  minor  some  one  social  field,  such  as  the  liquor  ques- 
tion, industrial  education,  or  child  labor,  and  study  it  thoroughly,  you 
will  speak  with  power,  and  your  ministry  will  be  richer  in  results  than 
if  you  scatter  over  a  broad  field."  lliat  is  sound  advice  in  an  age  when 
all  our  younger  ministers  are  tempted  to  speak  on  every  social  and  eco- 
nomic question  from  insufficient  data  and  with  inadequate  training.  Great 
emphasis  is  laid  upon  the  importance  of  the  minister  acquainting  himself 
with  the  causes  and  methods  of  the  labor  movement  by  almost  every 
lecturer  in  this  course,  and  all  are  specialists.  Mr.  Henry  Sterling,  a 
compositor  on  a  Boston  paper,  contributes  two  illuminating  addresses 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  union  man.     Mr.  John  Mitchell,  the  famous 


1010]  Bool-  Notices  159 

labor  leader,  presents  "An  Exposition  and  Interpretation  of  the  Trade 
I'lilon  Movement,"  and  does  it  most  admirably.  Tlie  Rev.  Edwin  B.  Robin- 
Hon,  who  is  the  successful  pastor  of  a  church  located  in  the  manufactur- 
ing; section  of  a  Massachusetts  city,  discusses  "The  Church  and  the  Wage- 
Kiirncr."  Dr.  Macfarland  spealvs  of  "The  Opportunity  of  the  Minister  in 
Itohition  to  Industrial  Organizations."  These  are  noteworthy  papers,  and 
tht;y  toll  the  e.xact  truth  wlien  they  say  that  the  vast  majority  of  ministers 
and  congregations  have  no  adequate  conception  of  the  aspirations  of  work- 
injruien  as  expressed  in  the  labor  movement,  and  little  understanding  of 
the  methods  employed  to  attain  their  ends.  Dr.  Macfarland  informs  us 
(hut  he  was  reared  in  the  home  of  a  wage-earner,  and  that  after  some 
experience  as  a  worldngman  be  became  an  employer  of  labor.  It  was 
wluit  he  saw  and  felt  in  these  relations  which  largely  determined  his 
present  work.  He  describes  himself  as  moved  by  "the  moral  heartache 
ca\ised  by  the  necessity,  through  an  unfeeling  and  inhuman  business 
conijietition,  that  seemed  to  force  me  to  win  my  own  living  at  the  ex- 
pense of  men  and  women  working  night,  and  day  for  the  miserable  pit- 
tance which  business  competition  allowed  them.  And  that  is  one  reason 
why  I  came  to  Yale  Divinity  School.  I  saw  the  need  of  the  gospel  I  try  to 
preach."  The  reader  of  these  addresses  will  be  convinced  that,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  minister's  fundamental  business  of  getting  men  regenerated 
as  individuals,  there  is  laid  upon  him  the  necessity  of  getting  them  con- 
verted to  a  sense  of  their  social  obligations.  There  are  valuable  papers 
ill  this  volume  on  "The  Opportunity  and  Mission  of  the  Church  and 
Ministry  among  Non-English-Speaking  People,"  "The  Minister  and  the 
Rural  Community,"  "The  Ministry  of  Mental  Healing,"  and  "The  Min- 
ister in  Association  with  International  Movements,"  the  last  being  a 
contribution  by  the  Rev.  Frederick  Lynch,  a  prominent  member  of 
tiie  Peace  Society  of  the  City  of  New  York.  A  careful  perusal  of  this 
l>ook  cannot  fail  to  have  a  stimulating  effect  upon  the  minds  and  con- 
sciences of  those  who  are  seeking  to  realize  the  broader  opportunities 
of  Christian  service. 

/A.-  City  With  Foundations.     By  John  Euoak  McFadyex.     Crown  Svo.  pp.   254.     Cincin- 
nati: Jennings  &  Graham.     New  York:  Eaton  <S:  Mains.      Price,  cloth,  S1.25.  net. 

TwKNTY-six  talks,  varying  in  length,  on  subjects  suggested  by  texts 
of  Holy  Scripture.  Dr.  McFadyen,  of  Toronto,  is  w-ell  known  to  our 
"■•i'lt-rs  by  his  volumes  on  The  Prayers  of  the  Bible,  Old  Testament  Critl- 
^i-sin  and  the  Christian  Church,  and  Introduction  to  the  Old  Testament. 
\\  0  present  one  of  the  shortest  of  these  chapters  as  a  specimen  of  matter 
i-»d  style.  It  is  entitled  "Bidding  Good-By  to  God,"  and  is  suggested  by 
ilio  words.  "Go  thy  way  for  this  time." 

"What  would  you  think  of  a  man  who  had  plainly  heard  the  voice 
c  God— heard  it  so  plainly  that  it  made  him  trrmble— and  who  yet  had 
'  '■"-  awful  courage  to  reply,  'Go  away  for  the  present.  When  I  have  a 
roav,-i!i,,nt  season.  I  will  send  for  thee'?  We  hold  our  breath  at  the  very 
J  .ouKht  of  such  stupid,  lordly  defiance  of  Almighty  God;  and  then  we 
•I'iiihe  more  freely  again  as  we  bethink  ourselves  that  such  a  thing  could 


160  Methodist  Ji'cvicw  [January 

not  be.  It  could  not  be?  Nay,  but  it  has  been.  There  was  a  man  who 
rolled  those  very  words  off  his  thoughtless  tongue,  and  there  are  other 
meu — have  we  not  ourselves  been  among  them? — who  have  cherished 
such  thoughts  in  our  hearts,  and  sighed  for  God  to  go  away,  though  the 
blasphemous  words  may  never  actually  have  crossed  our  lips. 

"Felix  was  the  man — the  cruel,  the  pov/erful,  the  gorgeous  Felix. 
Beside  him  is  a  prisoner  speaking  to  him  with  deadly  earnestness  of  a 
judgment  to  come.  The  voice  is  Paul's,  but  the  words  are  God's,  and  they 
smite  with  terror  into  his  seared  Roman  conscience.  Paul  is  right,  God 
is  right,  and  Felix  can  stand  it  no  longer.  'Go  away,'  he  says,  in  a  sudden 
access  of  terror.  'Go  away  for  the  present.  "When  I  have  a  convenient 
season,  I  will  send  for  thee.'  It  is  to  Paul  that  he  is  speaking,  but  what 
are  those  awful  words  but  a  tragic  farewell  to  God — the  God  who  v.as 
pleading  with  him  through  the  mighty  presence  of  Paul? 

"Y/hat  a  prayer!  'O  God!  go  away.'  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  bid 
good-by  to  God,  but  O,  the  presumption,  the  pathetic,  the  unspeakable  pre- 
sumption, of  e:::pecting  that  the  God  to  whom  we  have  haughtily  said" 
good-by  will  come  bade  at  our  summons,  and  alter  his  plans  to  suit  our 
convenient  season! 

"We  do  not  indeed  suppose  that  we  ourselves  could  ever  be  so 
haughtily  disobedient  to  tlie  heavenly  A'oice.  If  only  we  could  be  sure 
that  a  voice  was  God's,  we  would  obey  it  swiftly  and  gladly;  but  the 
pain  of  life  is  that  its  silences  are  so  long,  and  so  seldom  broken  by  a 
voice  which  we  can  with  confidence  welcome  as  divine.  But  is  that  voice 
so  very  rare?  or  is  it  not,  rather,  that  v.'e  have  not  schooled  ourselves  to 
understand  the  language  in  which  it  speaks?  For  it  sometimes  speaks 
as  a  rising  terror  in  the  heart.  Po  it  was  with  Felix.  His  conscience 
was  alarmed  by  the  vision  of  a  judgment  to  come,  and  in  that  terror  God 
was  speaking  to  him.  That  is  one  cf  God's  ways  of  speaking  to  men. 
When  the  still  small  voice  would  be  lost  upon  us,  he  will  sometimes  let 
us  hear  the  distant  roll  of  his  judgment  thunder.  Then  let  us  not  pray  in 
our  terror,  '0  God!  go  thy  way  for  the  present.'  Rather,  let  us  make  our 
peace  with  the  God  of  the  storm,  lest  his  lightnings  consume  us. 

"But  his  voice  is  not  always  terrible;  it  can  be  gentle  too.  Sometimes 
it  is  borne  to  us  upon  the  breath  of  holy  impulses  or  simple  affections. 
But  whether  that  voice  thrills  us  with  terror  or  with  sacred  resolve,  it  is 
for  us  unhesitatingly  to  obey  its  promptings.  God  is  with  us  in  such  a 
moment,  laying  his  kindly  hand  upon  our  stubborn  life.  How  do  we 
know  that  he  will  ever  be  with  us  again?  \ 

"Procrastination  is  the  secret  of  failure.  A  noble  thought,  a  holy 
resolution,  visits  us.  It  stands  knocking  at  the  door.  But  it  will  disturb 
our  comfort  if  we  suffer  it  to  enter  and  possess  our  life,  and  that  will  not 
do.  So  we  give  it  a  courteous  dismissal.  'Go  thy  way  for  the  present. 
When  I  have  a  convenient  season,  I  v^ill  send  for  thee.'  And  before  that 
season  comes  we  may  have  reached  some  place  where  there  is  no  re- 
pentance, though  we  seek  it  carefully  with  tears. 

"Warnings  enough  there  come  to  every  man.  Every  time  we  arc 
appalled,  like  Felix,  at  the  thought  of  the  judgment  to  come,  every  terror 


lino 


Book  Notices  161 


thai  shakes  our  conscience,  every  funeral  procession  that  passes  up  the 
busy  streets,  with  its  silent  mockery  of  their  crowded  haste,  every  ex- 
iH-rleace  that  awes  and  humbles  us,  is  another  voice  of  the  God  who 
loves  us  too  dearly  to  leave  us  alone.  The  man  who  says  to  such  a  voice, 
'Go  thy  way  for  the  present,'  is  either  a  coward  or  a  fool:  a  coward  if  he 
cannot  bear  to  look  at  those  stern  facts  with  which  he  will  one  day  have 
to  make  his  bed,  and  a  fool  if  he  supposes  that  the  God  whom  he  is  de- 
liberately rejecting  will  come  iu  mercy  when  he  summons  him.  'When 
I  have  a  more  convenient  season  1  will  send  for  thee.'  Yes,  but  will  he 
come?  He  will  come  indeed,  be  sure  of  that;  but  when  he  comes  he  will 
demand  the  uttermost  farthing." 


PHILOSOPHY,    SCHIXCE,  AND     GENERAL   LITERATURE 

To-Day:  An  Aire  of  Opporlunittj.     By  Jesse  Bowm.4.n-  Youno.  D.D.,  Lift.  D.      12itio.  pp.  241. 
Cincinnati:  Jennings  &  Gr.iham.      New  York:  Eaton  &  Mains.      Price,  cloth,  SI. 25,  net. 

A  UROAD,  fresh,  well-informed,  comprehensive,  and  informing  discus- 
filon  of  the  conditions  and  problems  of  to-day.  Thirty  chapters  divided 
under  four  heads,  "Pre-View  of  the  Field,"  "Our  Modern  Heritage  Sur- 
veyed." "Perils  and  Problems,"  "Post-View:  Privilege  and  Opportunity." 
The  object  of  Dr.  Young's  book  is  indicated  in  the  following  extract:  "One 
of  the  functions  of  Thomas  Carlyle  was  to  put  emphasis  on  the  obligation 
of  intelligent  men  to  keep  their  eyes  open  to  note  the  significant  facts  and 
movements  of  the  century  in  which  they  were  living.  'Knowest  thou  the 
meaning  of  this  day?'  is  the  sharp,  searching  question  with  which  he  calls 
men  to  account  for  their  heedlessness  and  blindness.  He  follows  up  this 
jilercing  inquiry  with  the  v.aruing  words:  'Let  us  not  inhabit  times  of 
wonderful  and  various  promise  without  divining  their  tendency.  ...  No 
sill  is  more  fearfully  avenged  on  men  and  nations  than  failure  to  read 
these  heavenly  omens.'  Heeding  Carlyle's  admonition,  a  man  may 
recognize  that  he  has  a  variety  of  obligations  which  bind  him  to  serve  his 
generation,  but  that  first  of  all  he  must  know  that  generation.  His  first 
obligation  to  his  own  age  is  to  study  it,  to  become  acquainted  with  it— to 
ask:  'What  sort  of  a  world  is  this  World  of  To-Day  into  which  I  have 
come?  What  are  its  notable  factors,  its  leading  traits,  its  commanding 
and  molding  influences?  What  and  whence  are  the  thoughts  which  throb 
Ih  its  brain,  and  the  sympathies  which  stir  its  pulses,  the  oppor- 
tunities which  fire  its  ambitions,  the  enterprises  which  occupy  its 
strength,  and  the  achievements  which  crown  and  reward  its 
tolls?"  "  In  one  of  his  most  impressive  chapters  Dr.  Young  notes  how 
the  message  and  power  of  Jesus  Christ  have  been  tested  and  proved  in 
contact  with  all  manner  of  strange  beliefs,  monstrous  superstitions,  and 
d^-Kraded  human  specimens  in  all  iiarts  of  the  globe:  "If  there  ever  was  a 
question — a  serious  question — as  to  the  adaptation  of  the  gospel  to  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  that  doubt  is  now  at  rest.  The  apostle  to  the 
ticiitlles  had  been  fifteen  years  in  the  service  of  his  Lord  before  he  ven- 
'ui-i.'d  to  test  the  gospel  in  contact  with  the  culture  of  Greece,  and  the 
••tupt-ndous.  complex  religious  and  political  system  which  we  now  kno\v 


162  Mdhodisi  Beview'  [January 

as  Roman  and  Grecian  polytheism.  And  it  must  have  taxed  his  courage 
to  its  limit  to  make  the  venture.  But  up  to  our  own  time  the  gospel  has 
never  been  so  widely,  variously,  thoroughly  tested  as  has  been  done  in 
the  recent  century.  What  a  body  of  witnesses  throng  forth  as  we  ask  the 
question  in  the  four  quarters  of  the  world,  on  the  continents  and  islands, 
'What  has  the  gospel  done  for  you  and  your  people?'  From  African 
jungles  emerge  well-clad  and  dignified  figures,  men  of  intelligence  and 
rank,  who  say:  '1  v.as  demonized  in  my  vices  and  ignorance;  I  was  but 
little  better  than  a  brute  in  ray  wickedness  and  cruelty.  The  witch 
doctor,  and  his  superstitions,  and  all  the  outlandish  vices  of  my  fathers 
had  me  in  full  control.  The  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  found  me  in  that 
condition,  washed  me  from  my  filthiness,  cleansed  me  from  my  sins,  put  a 
desire  for  education  into  my  mind  and  also  the  spirit  of  love  into  my 
heart.  I  am  one  of  the  myriads  of  witnesses  who  could  tell  what  Christ 
lias  done  for  Africa!'  From  the  South  Pacific  seas  you  may  gather  up  in 
a  single  voyage,  going  from  group  to  group  and  island  to  island,  tens  of 
thousands  of  testimonies  equally  as  strong.  Here  is,  for  insUmce,  a 
preacher  of  the  gospel  in  the  Fiji  Islands,  a  man  of  benign  appearance, 
of  manly  nobility,  now  going  on  eighty  years  of  age,  who  will  tell  you: 
'I  was  a  cannibal,  a  savage,  fond  of  battle  and  bloodshed  and  horrible 
feasts,  in  which  the  bodies  of  those  slain  in  battle  or  captured  for  food 
afforded  the  favorite  dishes.  My  life  up  to  the  time  I  was  thirty  was 
given  over  to  crime,  to  murder,  to  rapine,  and  vice.  The  gospel  found  me 
in  that  estate,  awoke  my  perverted  -and  frenzied  manhood,  put  me  under 
the  control  of  reason,  gave  me  a  thirst  for  knowledge,  opened  my  eyes  to 
see  Jesus  Christ  as  the  world's  Redeemer,  led  me  to  the  cross  where  I 
found  pardon,  and  then  put  on  me  the  honor  of  preaching  the  message  to 
others.  And  now  for  nearly  half  a  century  I  have  been  at  work  to  save 
my  fellow  islanders  and  to  carry  the  gospel  from  one  group  to  another 
in  these  Southern  seas!'"  Writing  of  the  defiling  and  destroying  effects 
of  pernicious  literature,  one  of  the  worst  plagues  of  our  day.  Dr.  Young 
says:  "If  there  is  one  man  who  has  been  recognized  as  knowing  what  is 
true,  beautiful,  and  good  in  literature,  that  man  is  the  critic  and  artist 
John  Ruskin.  Some  years  ago  he  wrote  for  an  English  magazine  an 
article  on  'Fiction — Fair  and  Foul,'  in  which  he  expressed  his  judgment 
concerning  novels  of  this  class.  He  declared  that  the  'reactions  of  moral 
disease  upon  itself,  and  the  conditions  of  languidly  monstrous  char- 
acter, developed  in  an  atmosphere  of  low  vitality,'  had  become  the  most 
valued  mateiial  of  modern  fiction,  which  deals  constantly  and  laigely 
with  morbid  phenomena;  that  the  plots  and  events  in  many,  even  of 
the  higher  classes  of  fictitious  works,  are  simply  unclean  and  indecent; 
and  that,  indeed,  the  modern  infidel  imagination  'amuses  itself  in  its 
work  with  destruction  of  the  body,  and  busies  itself  with  aberrations 
of  the  mind!'"  Out  of  his  own  observation  Dr.  Young  adds  this  in- 
cident: "Years  ago  in  Canton,  Ohio,  the  writer  visited  three  lads  in  the 
city  prison — neither  of  them  over  nineteen  years  of  age — and  each  one 
of  them  under  sentence  of  death  for  murder.  They  told  me  their  story, 
and    among    other   things   they   said:    'It   was   reading   bad    books    and 


j<tlO]  Book  Notices  163 

I»;il>t.'rs  that  brought  us  here.  We  read  stories  of  murder,  and  robbery, 
and  other  crimes,  and  we  fancied  it  would  be  nice  to  act  as  the  heroes 
of  llii'se  tales  acted.  So  we  started  out  on  a  tramp,  and — here  we  are!' 
Wlthlu  a  month  after  I  saw  them  thej-  suffered  death  on  the  gallows 
for  their  crimes."  Emphasizing  our  privilege  and  duty  in  this  age  of 
uiiparaHcled  opportunity,  Dr.  Young  closes  his  book  with  these  words: 
•"An  lOuelish  novelist  years  ago  entitled  one  of  his  books  'What  Will 
He  Do  With  It?'  The  plot  substantially  was  this:  Given,  a  youth  well 
born,  endowed  with  a  competence,  possessing  attractive  manners,  an 
ellRible  station  in  society,  equipped  with  collegiate  training,  and  other 
valuable  gifts.  What  will  he  do  with  them  all?  To  what  use  will  they 
be  put?  Will  he  neglect  his  opportunities  for  usefulness,  pass  his 
days  in  indolence  and  ease,  and  waste  his  substance  in  riotous  living? 
Or  will  he  cherish  a  keen  sense  of  his  responsibilities,  be  alert  to  enter 
every  open  door  of  service,  listen  diligently  to  each  fresh  call  of  Provi- 
dence, and  at  the  last  be  able  to  say  with  gladness  and  yet  with  deep 
liupiility,  'I  have  finished  the  work  Thou  didst  give  me  to  do'?  Such 
questions  may  be  used  to  incite  to  diligence,  to  probe  the  motives,  to 
arouse  from  slumber,  and  to  ennoble  with  righteous  zeal  in  our  day. 
Here  before  us  are  Franchises,  Privileges,  Opportunities  never  hitherto 
equaled  in  all  the  ages  of  the  .earth.  What  shall  we  do  with  them? 
Sliall  we  live  in  the  midst  of  them  unmoved,  inert,  unconcerned,  and 
idlo?  Shall  the  Open  Door  not  woo  us  to  enter?  Shall  the  striking 
liours  of  the  new  age  waken  no  response  in  our  hearts?  Shall  the 
fields  white  unto  the  harvest  make  no  impression  on  our  careless  souls? 
Uather,  may  we  utilize  to  advantage  the  swift  moments  as  they  fly, 
welcoming  the  World  of  To-Day  with  its  new  possibilities  and  appli- 
ances and  avenues  of  usefulness,  and  daily  say  with  loyal  devotion  to 
Him  who  gave  us  being  and  place  and  chance  to  grow  in  this  twentieth 
vtutury  environment:  'Gracious  Master  and  Lord,  we  are  grateful  for 
birth  and  being  in  the  New  Time.  We  thank  thee  for  every  open  door, 
for  every  recurring  opportunity  for  service,  for  the  light  that  shines  in 
our  age  upon  thy  Word  and  upon  our  lives,  for  the  help  thou  dost  give 
80  that  each  one  of  us  may  make  the  best  of  the  lot  awarded  to  us. 
I^irdon  all  our  past  neglect  and  shortcomings;  quicken  our  zeal;  open 
«ur  eyes  to  see  the  great  tasks  that  yet  remain  to  be  done.  Use  our 
redeemed  faculties,  our  disciplined  characters,  our  consecrated  lives 
BO  that  in  the  work  we  do,  the  service  we  render,  the  messages  we  pro- 
claim, and  the  examples  we  set  to  others  we  may  walk  worthily  of  thee 
and  of  the  generation  which  we  serve.  And  help  us,  O  Lord,  to  labor 
«ind  live  so  as  to  speed  on  the  day  when  thou  shalt  reign  from  the 
river  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  when  the  lungdom  of  this  world 
J'hall  become  the  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  of  his  Christ.     Amen.' " 

T^f  Sfeitlrr.     A  Novrl  of  thp  Kctfcr  Life.    By  Irv/no  Bachei.ler,  author  of  Eben  IloIJen. 
l-iio.  pp.  302.      New  York:  Doubleday,  P.i?;e  &  Co.     IVice,  cloth,  SI. 20,  net. 

TnK  temptations  of  Jesus  in  the  v.Mlderness  might  be  summarized  as 
rcLMlUng  In  one  question:  Shall  I  be  a  son  of  privilege  and  rule  over  man, 


164  Metliodist  Uevkio         '  [January 

or  shall  I  take  my  place  beside  man  and  be  his  brother,  share  his  burdens, 
tell  him  of  and  reveal  to  him  by  example  the  only  sufficient  rule — that  of 
God  in  the  heart?  Every  strong  man  must  face  such  a  question  for  him- 
self. Every  college  man  with  his  special  equipment  faces  the  same  tempta- 
tions that  confronted  Jesus  in  the  wilderness,  to  use  his  new  powers  to  rule 
instead  of  serve  humanity.  Irving  Bacheller  has  given  us  to  see  how 
vitally  this  struggle  concerns  human  Kfe,  and  what  true  conquest  means,  in 
his  story  of  The  Master.  Nor  has  he  created  a  single  hero  in  which  this 
struggle  takes  place,  but  we  witness  it  in  many  lives.  We  see  it  in  society. 
Yet  we  feel  as  we  read  his  pages  that  one  man  above  all  those  introduced 
to  us  may  be  called  Master,  and  that  one  m.ay  be  identified  with  the  Great 
Master.  *ro  have  written  the  life  of  Christ  without  mentioning  his  name 
is  in  itself  an  achievement.  To  have  surrounded  this  life  with  the  mystery 
such  as  must  have  sun-ounded  the  life  of  the  i\Ian  of  Nazareth  to  those  who 
brothercd  with  him,  malccs  the  story  all  the  more  alluring.  One  begins  the 
book  wondering  who  The  Master  is  to  be,  if  the  very  quest  of  young  Holm 
is  the  quest  for  the  Christ,  or  if  the  Son  of  God  will  actually  appear  in  the 
development  of  the  story.  The  strange  appearance  of  Gabriel  Horton  is  at 
least  suggestive.  It  is  he  who  says,  "There  is  a  love  greater  even  than  that 
of  a  man  for  a  woman.  It  is  the  love  of  a  man  for  his  brothers.  That,  I 
believe,  is  the  way  to  love  God.  This  love  no  longer  passes  all  understand- 
ing, for  it  grows,  ever,  in  the  heart  of  the  world,  and  will  bear  the  fruit  of 
peace  and  brotherhood.  I  have  seen  great  things,  but  you  shall  see  greater. 
God  be  with  you."  The  rise  of  John  Congdon,  whom  Ben  Lovel  calls 
Master,  as  a  great  labor  leader,  facing  the  crimes  where  he  must  decide 
whether  the  Toiler's  Chain  shall  put  into  effect  its  redemptive  program  by 
force  of  arms  or  through  the  quieter  method  of  peace,  makes  vivid  the  One 
who  faced  the  temptation  of  gaining  all  the  world  if  only  he  would  wor- 
ship Satan.  Congdon  says  on  the  consummation  of  his  personal  victory: 
"I  have  seen  hatred  dying  out  of  the  world.  I  have  witnessed  the  coming 
of  a  new  resolve,  that  there  is  one  treasure  which  no  nation  may  rightly 
barter  away,  not  for  glory  nor  pride  nor  added  territory — the  lives  and 
honor  of  its  citizens."  All  the  time  a  humble  shoemaker,  with  a  passion 
for  going  about  doing  good,  without  letting  his  left  hand  know  what  his 
right  hand  doeth,  is  entering  more  and  m.ore  into  the  plot.  While  in  our 
own  day  v,c  sometimes  see  the  spectacle  of  Christians  going  to  law  over  a 
copyright,  we  have  here  the  unusual  spectacle  of  Ben  Lovel  asking  that  a 
book  which  he  has  written  may  be  published  in  such  a  way  that  another 
than  himself  Avill  receive  all  credit  and  benefit  from  the  work.  When  his 
friend  remonstrates  on  this  course,  saying,  "Why,  man,  it  may  bring  you 
wealth  and  great  renown,"  Lovel  answers:  "So  I  fear.  Wealth  and  great 
renown  are  not  for  me;  they  make  one  a  slave,  and  I  would  serve  a  greater 
Master."  Again,  we  see  him  making  another  and  intenser  sacrifice.  When 
Holm  has  searched  in  vain  for  his  old  friend,  the  shoemaker,  and  finally 
appeals  to  Gabriel  Horton  to  know  why  he  returns  no  more,  the  answer 
Is:  "Look  no  more  for  him.  Your  ears  have  not  heard  a  better  thing  than 
this:  he  loved  her  who  was  to  be  your  wife,  and  it  is  chiefly  for  your  sake 
that  he  is  gene  to  return  no  more  to  you.    But  when  you  are  gone  to  your 


i;(lo|  Book  Notices  165 

homo  again  I  shall  see  hini  and  learn  of  his  work,  and  I  shall  say  no  moro 
cf  our  dear  master."  This  is  a  book  of  human  interest.  Slowly,  amid  the 
din  of  the  world's  strife  and  confusion,  love  and  hatred,  sorrow  and  suf- 
foriiig,  with  varying  grades  of  society  from  the  delightful  fellowship  of 
tlie  school  for  novelists  at  the  Sign  O'  the  Lanthorne  to  the  secret  racet- 
InRs  of  the  Brotherhood  of  the  Toiler's  Chain,  from  love's  dream  in  the 
mansion  of  a  multimillionaire  to  the  mutiny  on  a  pirate  ship  in  midocean, 
from  the  police  court  in  New  York  to  the  serene  and  quiet  parridise  of 
G.-brlel  Horton  in  northern  Canada,  a  great  purpose  is  unfolding.  The 
jilot  of  this  story  may  be  thought  too  complicated,  and  yet  all  this  varied 
iiiovoment  serves  as  a  perfect  background  to  shov/  that  the  kingdom  of 
Goil  means  not  a  seclusion  from  the  world  but  contact  with  every  phase  of 
human  life.  The  great  question  of  world-wide  discontent  and  social  suf- 
forln;?  is  here  raised  as  it  has  baen  in  other  recent  books  of  note,  but  Mr. 
Hacheller  has  a  different  answer  from  the  others.  The  answer  given  by 
The  Servant  in  the  House  is  socialism.  The  answer  given  by  the  Passing 
cf  the  Third  Floor  Back  is  kindness.  The  answer  Mr.  Bacheller  gives  in 
'Hio  Master  is  service.  And  yet  it  can  hardly  be  put  in  the  baldness  of  one 
word.  It  were  better  to  say  the  answer  in  The  Master  is  that  the  only 
true  solution  for  all  such  problems,  either  for  the  individual  or  for  the 
nation,  is  to  be  found  in  the  contribution  of  service  to  mankind  in  the 
Kplrit  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  Master  of  men  and  Son  of  God.  While  you 
feel  that  this  is  t\ie  broad  ground  which  the  author  has  taken,  at  the 
same  time  his  special  plea  is  for  peace.  These  are  the  strong  words  which 
I'.cn  Lovel  uses:  "I  came  out  of  my  woodland  home  with  no  wearineso  of 
luon.  but  with  a  great  will  to  help  them.  I  found  the  nations  of  the  earth 
(lllcd  with  evil  of  their  own  making.  I  heard  the  king  say:  '"Thou  shalt 
not  kill,"  save  when  I  command  it;  "Thou  shalt  not  steal"  from  any  but 
my  enemies;  "Thou  shalt  not  bear  false  v/itness"  save  it  be  to  serve  your 
country;  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  thy 
n<>i'^hbor  as  thyself,"  bat  thou  shalt  obey  me,  and  slay  thy  neighbor  and 
f>rrond  thy  God  if  I  bid  thee  do  it.'  1  saw  them  building,  slowly  building 
In  the  hearts  of  men,  respect  for  human  life  and  property,  and  tearing 
It  down  with  murder,  lust,  and  pillage.  I  saw  each  with  one  hand  point- 
!u?  to  the  way  of  righteousness,  and  with  the  other  to  the  way  of  evil,  so 
tfiat  the  people  were  confused  and  knew  not  in  whom  to  put  their  trust. 
^5y  brothers,  1  have  seen  all  this  that  makes  a  plaything  of  the  soul  of 
man  and  its  great  Father,  and  therein,  I  pray,  you  may  find  a  task,  as  I 
li-ivo.  and  forget  yourselves."  This  spirit  is  so  beautifully  manifested  in 
ihp  life  of  the  hero  of  the  book,  who  is  both  toiler  and  philosopher,  work- 
In-^-man  and  poet,  that  one  cannot  help  identifying  him  with  the  IMan  of 
Nazareth.  Congdon,  the  labor  leader,  says  of  him:  "It  is  strange,  incrodi- 
I'l'^.  and  beyond  my  comprehension — this  great,  unselfish  soul  which  had 
<onie  and  labored  with  me,  seeking  not  its  own.  But,  now,  I  see  its  wis- 
dom. I  have  felt  its  power  sweeping  over  the  wide  earth."  Holm,  in  his 
Inarch  of  him,  says:  "Since  then  I  have  sought  him  in  many  places  far  and 
fjoar.  Onoe  I  heard  of  a  great  teacher  who  dwelt  among  the  poor,  in  a 
<ll<itant  capital,  and  cared  not  for  wealth  or  fame,  and  taught  from  the 


1G6  Mctkodisf  Ecvicw  [Janiifirv 

book  cf  the  little  shoemaker.  I  found  the  teacher,  and  he  said  to  me,  'Xc. 
I  am  not  the  man  you  seek,  but  only  his. follower.'  And  I  heard  of  a 
parliament  of  nations,  gathered  to  open  the  hearts  of  their  best  men  on 
the  subject  of  human  brotherhood  and  peace  forever,  and  I  hoped  to  find 
him  there,  but  found  only  his  spirit  and  his  words."  One  cannot  lay  down 
this  book  without  feeling  his  own  shortcoming  as  a  disciple  of  the  Christ 
and  an  intense  longing  to  redeem  his  past  in  becoming  rnorc  like  the 
Master,  and  lending  a  stronger  hand  for  human  uplift.  Perhaps  the  most 
remarkable  thing  about  Mr.  Bachelier's  story  is  atmosphere.  There  is  no 
preaching,  no  special  pleading,  no  stepping  aside  from  the  intense  story 
of  human  heart  throb.  But  through  the  atmosphere  in  which  you  live 
with  the  characters  Mr.  Bacheller  has  created,  the  lessons  of  4he  bock 
are  borne  in  upon  you.  There  lingers  v/ith  you  as  you  close  the  bock  an 
atmosphere  of  calm,  quiet,  peace.  This  is  all  the  more  remarkable  be- 
cause of  the  rapid  movement  and  changing  scener,  of  the  story.  The  at- 
mosphere is  not  something  introduced  into  the  booli;  there  are  no  ear- 
marks of  the  novelist's  attempt  to  create  atmosphere;  you  cannot  look 
back  and  see  how  it  comes.  You  simply  realize  its  pervasiveness.  It  is 
there;  you  feel  it;  it  takes  possession  of  you.  You  are  not  drugged,  but 
inspired  to  action.  It  is  the  calm  that  foretells  victory.  It  is  the  thrill 
of  a  new  purpose.  You  come  to  the  end  feeling  "that  life  is  most  worth 
living  when  work  is  most  worth  while."  And  so  you  read  the  last 
sentence  of  The  I^Iaster  with  a  new  calm  and  a  new  resolve,  that  with 
God's  blessing,  may  go  with  yon  all  the  days.  "Always  when  we  sit  in 
our  cathedral,  and  hear  the  pines  and  the  thrushes,  we  think  of  cur  master 
and  of  his  great  work  and  love,  and  in  silence  we  look  out  through  tho 
open  door  that  he  has  set  for  us." 


Prophecy  and  Poetry.  Studies  in  Isr\iah  and  Browning.  By  Arthur  Rogers,  author  of 
Men  and  Moveraenf.s  iu  tho  Englisli  Church.  12mo,  pp.  269.  New  York:  Longmans, 
Green  &  Co.     Price,  cloth,  SI. 25,  net. 

These  are  the  Bohlen  Lectures  foi-  1909  delivered  in  Philadelphia  by 
the  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  West  Chester,  Pennsylvunla. 
He  sets  Isaiah  and  Erownin.g  side  by  side,  points  out  where  he  sees  a 
likeness,  and  then  tries  to  pi-ove  the  likeness  by  their  words.  His  preface 
says:  "There  are  persons,  good  citizens  and  doers  of  the  moral  law,  who 
find  Isaiah  dull  and  Brov.ning  unintelligible.  If  this  book,  through  seme 
inadvertence  or  the  gift  of  ill-judged  friends,  should  fall  into  the  hands 
of  any  such,  they  will  presently  cast  it  from  them  as  the  abomination  of 
desolation.  They  will  be  right.  It  was  never  meant  for  them.  But  I 
am  not  without  hope  that  there  may  be  some  who  have  known  and  loved 
Isaiah,  while  they  have  not  known  much  about  Browning,  and  some 
others,  who  have  known  and  loved  Browning,  while  they  have  thought  of 
Isaiah  as  inspired  but  without  much  human  interest,  whom  my  book  may 
lead  to  want  to  know  the  other  better.  It  is  those  who  have  cared  much 
for  both  who  will  know  best  whether  I  have  done  my  work  well  or  ill." 
A  commentator  on  Dr.   T.   H.   "Warren's  essay   on   Dante  and   Tennyson 


i;)jO]  Bool-  Koliccs  167 

thinks  that  Warren  in  liis  comparison  of  the  two  "emphatically  over- 
drives the  free  horse  of  personal  parallelism."  The  same  critic  might 
possibly  make  a  similar  comment  on  the  Rev.  Arthur  Ror^ers's  comparison 
of  I.-:aiah  and  Browning.  The  parallel  between  the  prophet  and  the  poet 
seems  not  so  clcse  as  th^  lecturer  aims  to  show;  yet  the  lectures  are  in- 
terestins  and  stimulating.  Hov/  religion  and  poetry  go  helpfully  hand  in 
lianJ,  Mr.  Rogers  points  out  in  his  first  lecture:  "Religion  is  man's  going 
out  to  God.  It  is  his  coming  to  himself  among  the  husks  of  matter,  and 
claiming  for  his  own  the  Father  from  vrhose  home  he  ciime.  It  calls  upon 
him  to  lift  his  eyes  to  heaven.  As  we  have  it  in  the  form  of  Christianity, 
it  brings  heaven  down  to  earth.  It  is  the  expression  and  acknowledgment 
of  our  relationship  to  God.  We  are  bis  people,  and  the  sheep  of  his 
pasture.  Poetry,  on  the  other  hand,  is  man's  highest  thought  about  him- 
self— the  world  he  lives  in,  the  problems  which  he  has  to  face.  It  is 
inevitable  that  such  thought  should  not,  sooner  or  later,  lead  to  God; 
but  in  poetry  God  is  not,  as  in  religion,  the  professed  goal.  As  Principal 
Shalrp  puts  it,  'To  appeal  to  the  higher  side  of  human  nature  and  to 
strengthen  it,  to  come  to  its  rescue  when  it  is  overborne  by  worldlincss 
and  material  interests,  to  support  it  by  great  truths  set  forth  in  their  most 
attractive  form — this  is  the  only  worthy  aim,  the  adequate  end,  of  all 
poetic  endeavor."  Religion  deals  with  the  will,  poetry  quickens  the  emo- 
tions. Religion  sets  forth  duties.  It  is  poetry's  business  to  fill  those 
duties  with  enthusiasm.  The  prophet  speaks  to  man  for  God.  The  poet, 
at  his  highest,  speaks  to  God  for  men.  He  is  not  different  from  his 
brethren,  but  he  is  man  in  the  superlative  degree.  Poetry  is  like  one  of 
Chopin's  nocturnes,  seeking,  aspiring,  hoping,  yet  not.without  a  suggestion 
that  that  which  is  sought  has  not  yet  been  found.  Can  man  by  searching 
find  out  God?  The  old  question  which  comes  to  us  from  the  very  dawn 
of  history  has  gained  no  new  answer  from  the  centuries  that  have 
passed  over  it.  Then  religion  comes  to  the  rcscu.e.  It  may  be 
compared  to  that  glorious  Sanctus  of  Gounod,  where  nothing  is  sought 
because  there  is  no  need  of  seeking,  but  which  lifts  us  from  adoration  to 
the  rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God,  and  to  that  peace  of  God 
which  cannot  be  explained,  because  it  passeth  understanding,  but  which 
ran  be  realized,  as  many  a  struggling  soul  has  learned  through  blessed 
e.vpcricucc.  If  poetry  is  the  expression  of  man's  highest  thought,  religion 
iB  at  once  the  acknowledgment  and  the  satisfaction  of  his  deepest  need." 
A  fair  example  of  the  lecturer's  paralleling  of  Isaiah  and  Browning  is  the 
following:  "In  one  of  Browning's  short  poems,  'Instans  Tyrannus,'  we 
have  what  might  almost  bo  a  commentary  on  the  chapters  of  Isaiah 
*hlch  describe  the  Assyrian  arrogance  and  the  Assyrian  overthrow.  It 
Is  the  monologue  of  a  tyrant  who  has  selected  one  of  his  subjects  for  his 
o.spwial  hatred.  There  was  no  reason  for  this  fierce  dislike — a  fact  which 
made  It  all  the  fiercer.  -There  is  no  hatred  so  malignant  as  that  which 
wrings  of  itself  from  the  slime  and  ooze  of  some  corrupt  and  bitter  na- 
tnrc.  The  tyrant  taxed  his  ingenuity  to  the  utmost  that  he  might  plague 
and  vex  his  victim.  He  crushed  him  to  earth  with  sheer  dead  weiglit  of 
iMTsccutlon.     He  tempted  him  with  m.ost  consummate  treachery. 


ICS  Meihodist  T'eview  [Januarj 

"I  set  my  five  wits  on  tlie  stretch 
To  inveigle  the  wretch. 

And  then,  at  the  last,  he  takes  the  true  Assyrian  attitude.  Has  he  not 
always  had  his  way?  Shall  ho  not  have  it  still?  Shall  this  man  find 
safety  in  his  insignificance,  when  the  king  himself  condescends,  to  hate? 
The  moment  of  his  malicious  iriumph  is  at  hand. 

"I  soberly  laid  luy  last  plan 
To  extinguish  the  man. 
Hound  his  creep-liolv,  with  never  a  break, 
Kan  my  fires  for  his  sake ; 
Overhead,  did  my  tlnuider  combine 
With  my  underground  mine  ; 
Till  I  looked  from  my  labor  content 
To  enjoy  the  event. 

"So  far  as  the  tyrant  could  see,  nothing  was  wanting  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  design.  He  had  only  to  wait,  and  watch  his  victim's 
fruitless  struggle,  and  prolong  the  agony  as  much  as  possible.  'He  shall 
shake  his  hand  again.st  the  mount  of  the  daughter  of  Zion.'  He  settled 
himself  in  glad  anticipation.  So  far  as  he  could  see,  all  was  in  readiness. 
But  the  hitch  came  in  his  plan  because  he  could  not  see  the  whole 
horizon.  The  eyes  of  tyranny,  of  brute  force  which  becomes  brutality, 
are  not  very  shaip.  For  all  his  strength  the  Assyrian  had  no  insight  into 
spiritual  things.  "Whatever  was  not  like  himseir,  he  dismissed  with  the 
same  contem])luous  indifference.  In  his  vocabulary,  all  gods  were  alike. 
He  did  not  permit  them  to  interfere  with  his  designs.  So  with  this 
tyrant.  He  had  made  his  j)lans.  Now  he  v.ould  carry  them  out.  What 
could  prevent?  Is  not  Hamath  as  Arphad?  But  let  us  hear  his  own  ac- 
count of  the  conclusion.  Were  they  two,  oppressor  and  oppressed,  to  be 
the  only  actors  in  the  scene? 

"When  fuidden      .      .      .      hoNv  think  ye,  the  end? 
Did  I  .'^ay.  witlionl  friend? 
Say  rather,  from  marpe  to  bine  marge 
The  whole  .sky  grew  his  tar-e 
With  llie  sun's  self  for  visible  boss, 
\\'hile  an  Ai'm  ran  across 

Which  the  earth  heaved  beneath  like  a  breast 
Y\'liere  the  uretcli  was  safe  prest. 
Do  you  .se«V     .Inst  my  vengeance  complete, 
The  man  si)rang  to  his  feet, 
Stood  erect,  caught  at  God's  skirts,  and  prayed. 
— So,  /  was  afraid. 

"The  tyrant's  power  revealed  God's  greater  power.  He  who  was 
threatened  with  destruction  found  safety  and  peace  in  the  very  extremity 
of  his  i)light." 


JDIO]  Booh  JSoiices  169 

HISTORY,    BIOGRAPHY.    AND    TOPOGRAPHY 
Gf'jrof  Bernard  S/iaip.    By  Gii.nEKT  K.   Chesterton.     12mo,    pp.   249.     New   York:    John 
l^nc  Company.      Price,  SI. 50.  net. 

Fon  one  conspicuous  man  of  genius  to  write  a  whole  book  about  an- 
other living  man  of  genius  at  the  height  of  his  fame  is  unusual.  That  is 
what  we  have  here  in  250  pages.  At  first  this  venture  did  not  strike  us 
favorably.  When  Chesterton  said  on  page  IS,  "It  is  absurd  to  be  v.-riting 
a  book  about  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw,"  we  quite  agreed  with  him.  But  it  is 
impossible  not  to  enjoy  Chesterton's  exuberant  vitality  when  the  big, 
healthy  fellow  turns  loose  his  brilliant  faculties  for  a  splendid  romp  with 
things  human  and  divine  up  and  down  the  universe.  His  good-natured 
play  is  sometimes  overvigorous  for  those  with  whom  he  contends;  his 
big  fist  hitting  out  lightly  sometimes  disables  a  loquacious  jaw.  Now  and 
then  he  half  inadvcitently  steps  on  the  enemy,  which  is  fun  for  him  but 
not  for  the  enemy.  The  book  before  us  is  about  a  great  many  things.  It 
has  "some  thunderbolts  of  good  thinking."  Its  Chestertonian  epigrams 
alone  would  make  it  worth  while.  Here  is  one:  "Dogmas  are  not  dark 
and  mysterious;  rather,  a  dogma  is  like  a  flash  of  lightning — an  instan- 
taneous lucidity  that  opens  across  a  whole  landscape."  Another:  "The 
best  way  to  shorten  winter  is  to  prolong  Christmas."  Of  Oscar  Vv'^ilde  he 
says:  "His  philosophy  (which  v>as  vile)  was  a  philosophy  of  ease  and  of 
luxurious  illusion;  being  Irish,  he  put  it  in  pugnacious  epigrams.  His 
armed  iusoleuce  was  Irish;  he  challenged  all  comers.  .  .  .  He  was  one  of 
those  who  told  people  that  a  work  of  art  is  in  another  universe  from  ethics 
and  social  good;  his  writings  are  £Esthetic  affirmations  of  what  can  be 
without  any  reference  to  what  ought  to  be."  Wilde  was  the  god  of  one  of 
those  stale  interludes  which  separate  the  serious  epochs  of  history — a 
dreary  interlude  of  prematurely  old  yoimg  men.  He  was  mystical  and 
monstrous — a  dandy  who  made  poisonou.?  epigrams  and  went  about  with 
a  frock  coat,  a  green  carnation,  and  Savoy  restaurant  manners.  When  this 
doctrine  prevails,  art  soon  needs  to  be  cleaned  like  an  Augean  stable. 
Chesterton  calls  Nietzsche  "an  eloquent  sophist,"  and  goes  on  thus: 
"Nietzsche  was  a  frail,  fastidious,  entirely  useless  anarchist.  He  had  a  won- 
derful poetic  wit,  and  was  one  of  the  best  rhetoricians  of  the  modern  world. 
He  had  a  remarkable  power  of  saying  things  that  master  the  reason  for  a 
moment  by  their  gigantic  unreasonableness;  as,  for  instance,  'Your  life  is 
Intolerable  v,-ithout  immortality;  but  why  shouldn't  your  life  be  intolerable?' 
His  whole  work  is  shot  through  with  the  pangs  and  fevers  of  his  extremely 
Bickly  physical  life;  in  early  middle  age  his  brain  broke  down  into  im- 
iMJteuce  and  darkness.  It  seems  to  me  that  all  that  was  true  in  his  teach- 
ing or  creditable  and  sound  in  him  can  be  stated  in  the  derivation  of  one 
word,  the  word  valor.  Valor  means  a  value;  courage  is  itself  a  solid 
fiood;  it  is  an  ultimate  virtue;  valor  i.s  in  itself  valid.  .  .  .  Nietzsche  im- 
agined he  was  rebelling  against  ancient  moi-ality;  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
ho  was  only  rebelling  against  reccjtt  morality,  the  half -baked  impudence 
of  the  vtilitarians  and  the  materialists.  He  thought  he  was  rebelling 
riKalnst  Cluidliauity ;  curiously  enough,  he  was  rebelling  solely  against 
the  bpecial  enemies  of  Christianity,  against  Herbert  Spencer  and  Edward 


170  Metliodlsl  Ecvicw  [January 

Clodd.  Historic  Christianity  has  always  believed  in  the  valo7-  of  Saint 
Michael  riding  in  front  of  the  Churcli  Militant;  and  in  an  ultimate  and 
absolute  7>?fasi/rc,  not  utilitarian,  but  the  intoxication  of  the  spirit,  the 
wine  of  the  blood  of  God."  Chesterton  explains  G.  B.  Shaw  in  large  part 
by  calling  him  a  Puritan;  this,  he  thinks,  is  why  Shaw  does  not  approve 
of  Shakespeare,  but  likes  Bunyan  better  because  of  the  latter's  virile 
acceptance  of  life  as  a  high  and  harsh  adventure,  in  contrast  with  Shakes- 
peare's profligate  pessimism — the  vanitas  vanitotinn  of  a  disappointed 
voluptuary.  According  to  this  view,  Shakespeare  was  always  saying, 
"Out,  out,  brief  candle!"  because  his  was  only  a  i)allroom  candle,  while 
Bunyan  was  seeking  to  light  such  a  candle  as  by  God's  grace  should  never 
be  put  out.  Though  Chesterton  thinks  Shaw's  denunciation  of  Shakes- 
pea^re  was  through  Shaw's  misunderstanding,  he  yet  thinks  the  denuncia- 
tion of  Shakespeare's  pessimism  "a  most  splendidly  understanding  utter- 
ance." He  thinks  the  greatest  thing  in  Shaw  is  his  serious  optimism, 
which  holds  that  life  is  too  glorious  a  thing  to  be  merely  enjoyed;  to  exist 
is  an  exacting  business;  its  trumpet  call,  though  inspiring  and  sublime,  is 
nobly  terrible.  Chesterton  thinks  nothing  Shaw  ever  wrote  is  nobler  than 
his  simple  reference  to  the  sturdy  man  v.ho  stepped  up  to  the  Keeper  of 
the  Book  of  Life  and  said,  "Put  down  my  name,  sir."  Chesterton  says 
Shaw  made  the  mistake  of  trying  to  buttress  this  manly  and  heroic 
philosophy  by  false  metaphysics.  He  says  that  the  temporary  decline  of 
theology  had  caused  a  neglect  of  philosophy  and  of  all  fine  thinking;  and 
so  Shaw  went  to  Schopenhauer  (Heaven  save  the  mark!)  to  find  justifica- 
tions for  the  sons  of  God  shouting  for  joy.  ''He  called  it  the  Will  to 
Live — a  phrase  invented  by  Prussian  professors  v/ho  v.-ould  like  to  exist, 
but  can't."  But  though  Shaw  made  this  mistake,  "he  was  on  the  side  of 
the  good  old  cause;  the  oldest  and  best  of  causes,  the  cause  of  Creation 
against  destruction,  the  cause  of  Yes  against  no,  the  cause  of  the  Seed 
against  the  stony  earth  and  tiie  Star  against  the  abyss."  Chesterton 
thinks  Shaw  entirely  misunderstands  Shakespeare's  pessimistic  passages, 
and  says  "they  are  simply  flying  moods  which  a  man  with  a  fixed  faith 
may  tolerate  for  a  moment.  That  all  is  vanity,  that  life  is  dust  and  love 
is  ashes — these  are  frivolous,  fleeting  notions.  Shakespeare  knows  well 
enough  that  there  is  a  life  which  is  not  dust  and  a  love  that  is  not  ashes. 
...  In  the  very  art  of  uttering  his  pessimism  Hamlet  admits  that  it  is  a 
mood  and  not  the  truth.  Hamlet  is  quite  the  reverse  of  a  skeptic.  He  is 
a  man  whose  strong  Intellect  believes  much  more  than  his  weak  tempera- 
ment can  make  vivid  to  him.  He  has  the  power  (oi-  the  weakness)  of 
knowing  a  thing  without  feeling  it,  of  believing  a  thing  without  ex- 
periencing it.  .  .  .  Shakespeare  confesses  his  moods,  but  he  never  sets  up 
his  moods  against  his  mind.  He  was  not  in  any  sense  a  pessimist." 
Chesterton  says  that  Shaw,  in  some  of  his  plays,  "is  simply  a  seventeenth 
century  Calvinist;  his  primary  and.  defiant  proposition  is  the  Calvinistic 
proposition  that  the  elect  do  not  earn  virtue  but  possess  it.  Shaw's  Julius 
Ca'sar  prevails  over  other  people  by  possessing  more  virtus  than  they; 
not  by  having  suffered  or  striven  into  virtue,  not  because  he  has  heroically 
struggled,  but  because  he  is  what  he  was  made — a  hero.     According  to 


I'jlO]  Booh  Notices  171 

Shaw.  Caesar  is  not  savecl  by  works,  or  even  by  faith;  he  is  saved  and 
supcM-ior  simply  because  he  is  one  of  the  elect."  "I  will  confess,''  adds 
Chesterton,  "to  the  conviction  that  Bernard  Shaw,  in  the  course  of  his 
whole  strenuous  life,  was  never  quite  so  near  to  hell  as  when  he  wrote 
such  views."  Chesterton  criticises  Shaw  also  for  his  views  as  to  methods 
of  educating  children.  Shaw  preaches  that  in  the  education  and  de- 
velopment of  citizens  liberty  and  responsibility  go  together.  Liberty, 
with  all  its  risks  and  its  liability  to  abuse,  must  be  allowed  to  the  citizen. 
This  principle,  which  is  true  of  the  citizen,  though  not  the  vrhole  truth, 
Shaw  carries  over  to  the  child  and  its  education,  without  noticing  that 
there  is  an  immense  difference  between  the  inexperienced  child  and  the 
adult  citizen.  He  gets  hold  of  the  Herbert  Spencer  idea  of  teaching  chil- 
dren by  experience,  v>hich,  Chesterton  says,  is  perhaps  the  most  fatu- 
ously silly  idea  that  was  ever  gravely  put  down  in  print.  Against  Shaw's 
notion  that  the  child  should  be  allowed  to  choose  for  himself  and  learu 
his  lesson  by  experiencing  the  consequences  of  his  chosen  course,  and 
that  one  should  never  tell  a  child  anything  without  letting  him  hear  the 
opposite  opinion  in  order  that  he  may  take  his  choice  freely,  Chesterton 
rails  in  this  fashion:  ITiis  is  equivalent  to  saying  that,  when  you  tell 
Tommy  not  to  hit  his  sick  sister  on  the  temple,  you  must  be  sure  to  have 
present  some  Nietzschean  professor  who  will  explain  to  Tommy  that  it 
can  be  said  in  favor  of  his  hitting  his  sister  that  if  he  hits  hard  enough 
he  may  help  to  eliminate  the  sickly  and  unfit.  And  that  when  you  are  in 
the  act  of  telling  Su.sim  not  to  drink  out  of  the  bottle'  labeled  "Poison" 
you  must  telegraph  for  a  "Christian  Scientist"  who  will  be  ready  to  tell 
Susan  that  the  poison  cannot  do  her  any  harm  if  she  does  not  yield  to 
"mortal  mind" — she  can  resist  its  effects  and  virtually  abolish  it  by  sheer 
force  of  intellect  and  will,  by  rising  into  the  absolute  where  the  delusion 
called  evil  does  not  exist.  The  tendency  is  to  excessive  liberty  for  the 
immature  in  homes,  schools;  colleges,  and  society.  The  modern  theories 
of  education  are  dangerously  like  the  practice  of  the  hero  in  a  certain 
book:  "Marcellin  becomes  the  guardian  of  an  orphan  girl  of  eleven  years, 
upon  whom  he  tries  his  own  system  of  education,  which  is  that  a  girl 
should  be  permitted  to  understand  'wickedness — vice,  if  you  like,'  to  read 
alternately  bad  and  good  books,  to  be  familiar  with  every  phase  of 
humar.  life,  then  to  ob'^erve  cause  and  effect,  and  form  her  own  con- 
chi.sions."  Having  heard  that  one  of  Shaw's  plays  had  been  forbidden 
in  London  by  the  censor,  Chesterton  writes:  "As  far  as  I  can  discover, 
the  i)lay  has  been  forbidden  because  one  of  the  characters  in  it  professes 
a  belief  in  God,  and  states  his  conviction  that  God  has  got  him.  This  is 
wholesome;  this  is  like  one  crack  of  thunder  in  a  clear  sky.  The  prince 
of  this  world  does  not  forgive  that.  In  all  honest  religion  there  is  some- 
thing that  is  hateful  to  the  prosperous  compromise  of  our  time.  You 
pre  free  in  our  time  to  say  that  God  does  not  exist;  you  are  free  to  say 
that  he  exists  and  is  evil;  you  are  free  to  say  (like  poor  old  Reuan)  that 
ho  would  like  to  exist  if  he  could.  You  may  talk  of  God  as  a  metaphor 
or  ;i  mystilication;  you  may  water  hiui  down  with  gallons  of  long  word.=i. 
or  boil  him  to  the  rags  of  metaphysics,  and  it  is  not  merely  that  nobody 


172  Methodist  licvicw  [January" 

punishes  you,  but  nobody  even  protests.  But  if  you  speak  of  God  as  a 
fact,  as  a  reason  for  changing  one's  conduct,  then  the  modern  world  vill 
stop  you  somehow  if  it  can.  ^Ve  are  long  past  tall:ing  about  whether  an 
unbeliever  should  be  punished  for  being  irreverent.  It  is  uov/  thought 
irreverent  to  be  a  believer.  I  end  where  I  began:  it  is  the  old  Puritan 
in  Shaw  that  jars  the  modern  world  like  an  electric  shock.  Perhaps 
what  I  have  called  fastidiousness  in  him  is  a  divine  fear.  Perhaps  wha.t 
I  have  called  his  coldness  may  be  a  predestinate  and  ancient  endurance. 
That  vision  with  which  I  meant  to  end,  the  vision  of  a  new  London  made 
of  culture  and  common  sense,  begins  to  fade  and  alter.  That  vision  of 
Fabian  villas  grows  fainter-  and  fainter,  until  I  see  only  a  void  place 
across  which  runs  Bunyan's  Pilgrim  with  his  fingers  in  his  ears."  We 
close  with  Chesterton's  final  tribute  to  Bernard  Shaw:  "A  strange  age  is 
ours.  "We  call  the  twelfth  century  ascetic.  We  call  our  own  time  hedonist 
and  full  of  pleasure.  But  in  that  ascetic  age  the  love  of  life  was  evident 
and  enormous,  so  that  it  had  to  be  restrained.  In  our  hedonist  age 
pleasure  has  sunk  so  low  that  it  has  to  be  encouraged.  How  high  the 
sea  of  human  happiness  rose  in  the  Middle  Ages  we  now  only  know  by 
the  colossal  walls  that  they  built  to  keep  it  vv'ithin  bounds.  How  low 
human  happiness  has  sunk  in  this  tv/eutieth  century  our  children  will 
only  know  by  these  extraordinary  modern  books  which  tell  people  that  it 
is  a  duty  to  be  cheerful  and  that  life  is  not  so  bad  after  all.  A  strange 
time  it  is,  indeed,  when  a  holiday  has  to  be  imposed  like  a  fast  and  when 
men  have  to  be  driven  to  a  banquet  with  spears.  But  hereafter  it  will 
have  to  be  written  of  our  time,  that,  when  the  Spirit  that  Denies  besieged 
the  last  citadel,  blaspheming  life  itself,  there  were  some,  there  was  one 
especially,  whose  voice  was  hoard  protesting,  and  whose  spear  was  never 
broken."  Such  is  Chesterton's  estimate  of  Bernard  Shaw,  but  the  book's 
chief  interest  to  the  reader,  after  all,  is  Chesterton,  not  Shaw. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.     By  Sami.ei.  McCiiord  Crothers.     12mo,  pp.  05.      Boston  and  New 
York:  Houghton  Mifflin  Co.    Price,  cloth,  with  portrait,  75  cents,  net. 

The  sub-title  is  "The  Autocrat  and  His  Fellow  Boarders."  An  essay 
of  forty  pages  about  Holmes  is  supplemented  by  twenty-five  pages  of  his 
best  poems,  closing  v.ith  "The  Chambered  Nautilus,"  the  one  bit  of  his 
ver.';':;  which  is  likely  to  survive.  Aside  from  and  above  his  poetry  and 
his  eminence  in  his  profession  as  professor  of  anatomy  and  physiology, 
Dr.  Holmes  is  best  known  as  an  essayist  in  the  character  of  "The  Auto- 
crat" who  made  Philosophy  come  down  from  the  heights  and  take  up  her 
abode  in  a  Boston  boarding  house,  along  with  a  nervous  landlady  anxious 
to  please,  an  opinionated  old  gentleman  ready  to  be  displeased,  and  a 
poet,  and  a  philosopher,  and  a  timid  schoolmistress,  and  a  divinity  student 
who  wants  to  know,  and  an  angular,  "economically  organized  female"  in 
black  bombazine,  who  was  "the  natural  product  of  high  culture  and  a 
chilly  climate,"  and  a  young  fellow  named  John  who  cares  for  none  of 
these  things.  These  free-born  Am.erican  citizens  are  talked  to  by  one  of 
thfir  fellow  boarders  v,iio  usurps  the  right  of  autocratic  speech.  The 
boarders  saw  to   it  that  the  paternal  and   dictatorial   Autocrat   v.-as  not 


]filo]  Bool'  Notices  173 

ftUoMcd  to  think  of  himself  more  highly  than  he  ought.  They  contradicted 
h!ni  freely  and  flatly.  This  made  the  breakfast  table  lively  with  give-and- 
take,  thrust  and  counter-thrust.  Dissent  has  long  been  a  New  England 
habit.  The  Puritans  were  described  as  "a  people  inclinable  to  singulari- 
tifs;  their  humor  is  to  differ  from  all  the  world  and  shortly  from  them- 
Folvo.s."  Over  three  hundred  years  later  Lowell  wrote  of  Theodore  Parker 
ami  his  coreligionists: 

I  know  they  all  went 

For  a  general  union  of  total  di.sscnt: 

He  went  a  step  farther;  without  cough  or  hem, 

He  frankly  avowed  he  believed  not  in  them ; 

And,  before  he  could  be  jumbled  up  or  prevented, 

From  their  ortliodox  kind  of  dis-sent  he  dissented. 

For  the  Autocrat  to  discover  or  invent  resemblances  or  "to  couple  ideas 
Into  a  train  of  thought  was  as  easy  as  it  is  for  a  railroad  man  to  couple 
cars."  He  pointy  out  the  likeness  between  an  awkward  visitor  and  a  ship: 
••Mon't  you  know  how  hard  it  is  for  some  people  to  get  out  of  a  room 
after  their  visit  is  really  over?  They  want  to  be  off,  and  you  want  to 
have  them  (^ff,  but  they  don't  know  how  to  manage  it.  One  would  think 
they  had  been  built  in  your  parlor  or  study,  and  were  waiting  to  be 
launched.  I  have  contrived  a  sort  of  ceremonial  inclined  plane  for  such 
visitors,  which  being  lubricated  with  certain  smooth  phrases,  I  back  them 
down,  metaphorically  speaking,  stern-foremost,  into  their  'native  ele- 
ment.' the  great  ocean  of  outdoors."  On  this  Dr.  Crothers  comments: 
"Whoever  has  felt  himself  thus  being  launched  recognizes  the  accuracy 
of  the  figure  of  speech."  The  author  of  this  essay  on  Holmes  says  that 
no  good  book  is  eaxy  to  write,  and  then  sounds  this  admonitory  note:  "The 
writer  (or  the  preacher)  who  is  unusually  fluent  should  take  warning 
from  the  instructions  which  accompany  his  fountain  pen:  'When  this  pen 
iJows  too  freely  it  is  a  sign  that  it  is  nearly  empty  and  should  be  filled.'  " 
Dr.  Holmes  had  the  excellent  habit  of  jotting  down  his  thoughts.  At  tho 
famous  breakfast  table  the  Poet  says  to  the  prosaic  boarders:  '"The  idea 
of  a  man's  'interviev.'ing'  himself  is  rather  odd,  to  be  sure.  But  then  that 
!s  what  we  are  all  of  us  doing  every  day.  Half  of  my  talk  is  for  the  pur- 
pose of  finding  out  my  own  thoughts,  as  a  schoolboy  turns  his  pockets 
Inside  out  to  see  what  is  in  them.  .  .  .  It's  a  very  queer  place,  thnt  recep- 
tacle a  man  fetches  his  talk  out  of.  The  library  comparison  doesn't  ex- 
n<;tly  hit  it.  You  stow  away  some  idea  and  don't  want  it,  say  for  ten 
yeurB.  When  it  turns  up  at  last  it  has  got  so  jammed  and  crushed  out  of 
lihape  by  the  other  ideas  packed  with  it,  that  it  is  no  more  like  what  it 
was  than  a  raisin  is  like  a  grape  on  the  vine,  or  a  fig  from  a  drum  like 
one  hanging  on  the  tree."  The  following  division  of  minds  into  classes  is 
v.-orthy  of  consideration:  "There  are  one-story  intellects,  two-story  in- 
t'.-llects,  three-story  intellects  with  skylights.  All  mere  fact-collectors, 
^ho  have  no  aim  beyond  their  facts,  are  one-story  men.  Two-story  men 
compare,  reason,  generalize,  using  the  labors  of  tho  fact-collectors  as  well 
"s  their  own.  Three-story  men  idealize,  imagine,  predict;  thei)-  best  illu- 
T^'iri'ition  comes  from  above,  through  the  skylight."     Our  essayist  thinks 


17-1  Methodist  Ecvicv:  [ January 

It  is  profitable  to  "go  a-lhinking"  vitb  the  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast 
Table.  He  speaks  of  a  state  of  society  in  which  "A  thought  was  never 
allowed  to  go  abroad  unless  chaperoned  by  an  elderly  and  perfectly  re- 
liable moral." 

The  Earliest  Cosmologies.  A  Guidebook  for  Bejanncrs  in  the  Study  of  Ancient  Literatures  and 
Relisioik  By  WiLLiANf  Fairfiel*  Warhf.x.  S.T.D.,  LL.D.  8vo.  pp.  222.  New  York: 
Eaton  d:  M.iins.     Cincinnati:  .Jennings  <fc  Graham.      Price,  cloth,  illustrated,  $1.50,  net. 

This  book  is  the  result  of  Dr.  Warren's  latest  and  corapletest  studies  of 
the  universe  as  pictured  in  thought  by  the  ancient  Hebrews,  Babylonians, 
Egyptians,  Greeks,  Iranians,  and  Indo-Aryans.  When  the  thinkers  of  the 
ancient  world  went  out  into  the  open,  saw  the  sky  with  its  horizon,  the 
sun  or  the  moon  and  the  stars,  and  observed  their  regular  course;  when 
they  beheld  the  clouds  and  felt  the  v,'ind  and  rain  very  much  as  we  see 
and  feel  them;  when  they  thought  of  space  and  God  and  the  abodes  of 
the  living'and  the  dead,  what  idea  did  they  have  of  the  form  and  character 
of  the  v.orld  in  which  they  found  themselves  living,  and  how  are  to  be 
interpreted  the  descrijitions  they  give  and  the  references  they  make  to  it? 
This  is  in  substance  the  inquiry  that  Dr.  Warren  institutes  in  his  book, 
and  who  can  question  its  fascinating  interest  and  vital  importance?  For 
not  only  are  these  conceptions  interesting  in  themselves,  but  a  thorough- 
going understanding  of  ancient  thought  is  not  possible  without  a  knowl- 
edge of  these  fundamentals.  Dr.  Warren  begins  his  work  with  a  review 
of  the  Hebrew  universe  as  commonly  pictured  and  explained  in  standard 
commentaries  and  Bible  dictionaries.  This  brings  the  whole  question  im- 
mediately home  to  us,  for  it  involves  biblical  ideas  and  their  interpreta- 
tion, and  no  Bible  student  can  afford  to  be  indifferent  to  the  subject.  It  is 
unque.^tionably  true  that  the  prevailing  explanations  of  biblical  ideas  are 
exceedingly  crude  and  unsatisfactory;  and  now  that  Dr.  Warren  has 
pointed  out  a  better  way,  it  does,  indeed,  seem  strange  that  such  a  thinker 
as  the  writer  of  the  creation  account  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  whom 
critical  scholarship  assigns  to  the  fifth  century  before  the  Christian  era, 
that  is,  long  after  the  great  prophets,  should  have  entertained  such  puerile 
notions  as  that  rakia,  "the  firmament,"  was  "like  a  brass  dome,  or  cover, 
beaten  out,  and  shut  down  around  the  edge  of  the  earth  like  the  cover  of 
a  dinner  platter,"  and  that  it  was  provided  with  "windows"  literally 
understood,  which  were  occasionally  pushed  back  to  let  the  rain  descend. 
The  strictures  of  the  author  upon  his  predecessors  in  the  field  are  alway.s 
just,  considerate,  and  polite;  sometimes  they  are  caustic  and  not  void  of  a 
certain  humor  that  lends  a  charm  to  the  discussion;  it  is  the  criticism  of 
one  who  feels  sure  that  he  has  something  better  to  offer,  and  must  needs 
make  clear  the  lack.  The  most  inipoitant  section  of  the  book  is  Dr. 
Warren's  interpretation  of  the  Babylonian  universe.  It  is  his  signal  con- 
tribution to  the  subject;  and  from  it  the  light  radiates  upon  all  the  rest. 
Tlie  author  has  here  made  use  of  labors  that  he  had  in  previous  years 
published  in  the  Journal  of  the  American  Oriental  Society,  and  had  thus 
first  submitted  to  the  judgment  of  competent  specialists.  Upon  the  basis 
of  twelve  distinct  data,  derived  from  the  study  of  the  ancient  Babylonian 


]ri20]  Booh  Notices  175 

tfxls.  he  constructs  the  Babylonian  universe,  giving  in  corroboration  of 
his  views  nuineroas  references  to  the  literature  of  those  who  have  dealt 
with  the  subject.  The  result  is  a  perfectly  symmetrical  system  of  the  up- 
per and  lower  world  in  the  form  of  two  seven-staged  pyramids,  illustrated 
by  a  diagram,  which  is  the  fronlisiuece  of  the  volume,  and  is  remarkable 
for  its  consistency,  harmony,  and  beauty.  But  the  result  does  not  only 
bring  into  one  focus  Babylonian  ideas,  it  brings  order  and  light  also  into 
others.  Babylonia  was  the  seat  of  the  most  ancient  and  advanced  civiliza- 
tion, and  its  influence  spread  in  all  directions.  The  author  proceeds,  then, 
to  i>oint  out  the  aid  of  the  new  light  upon  Babylonian  conceptions  in  the 
understanding  of  the  conceptions  of  the  Bible,  the  rabbinic  literature,  the 
Koran,  of  the  Egyptians,  of  Homer,  and  of  the  Indo-Iranic  and  Buddhistic 
Irjfiis  of  the  universe.  And  it  is  wuth  a  pardonable  enthusiasm  that  in  sum- 
marizing the  lesult  he  exclaims:  "How  wonderful  a  world-view  was  this! 
How  perfect  the  symmetries  of  the  system!  Its  duplex  center  lived  on  in 
tlie  Pythagorejin  thought  as  'Earth  and  Counter-earth.'  Doubtless,  it  in- 
fluenced Plato  when  in  the  Timocus  he  said,  'To  Earth,  then,  let  us  assign 
the  form  of  a  cube.'  It  still  lives  on  in  the  four-cornered  earth  of  the  New 
Testament  and  in  that  cf  Mohammedan  teaching.  Its  heavens  lived  on  in 
the  'horaocentric'  'crystalline  spheres'  of  the  Greek  astronomers,  and 
through  the  influence-of  Ptolemy's  Almagest  shaped  the  thinking  of  all 
Bavants,  philosophers,  and  poets  till  the  days  of  Copernicus.  Dante's 
heavens  are  those  of  Ptolemy,  and  Ptolemy's  are  those  of  the  ancient 
worsliipers  of  Anu  and  Sin.  Their  music  is  still  audible,  their  form  still 
visible,  in  Milton's  Ode  to  the  Nativity."  It  is  not  easy  to  estimate  justly 
Dr.  AYarren's  book  without  becoming  liable  to  the  charge  of  exaggeration. 
It  is  truly  a  great  book.  Succinct,  clear,  strictly  scientific,  broad  in  its 
range,  and  in  a  charming  style,  it  presents  an  entirely  original  and  new 
view  on  an  old,  interesting,  and  important  subject.  It  is  the  mature  fruit 
of  the  specialized  study  of  three  decades.  The  result  is  constructive  and 
satisfying;  and  there  is  every  reason  for  believing  that  in  due  time  it  will 
become  the  accepted  view  of  scholarship;  for  there  is  no  other  treatise 
that  so  well  meets  with  the  requirements  of  the  facts  in  the  case.  The  book 
i.s  an  honor  to  the  author,  to  Methodism,  and  to  American  scholarship. 
It  is  well  designed  to  give  valuable  service  as  a  guidebook  for  beginners 
In  the  study  of  ancient  literatures  and  religions;  and  that  "any  pecunia?-y 
returns  from  the  sale  of  the  book  will  be  sacredly  devoted  to  the  promotion 
of  th!.s  branch  of  learning  in  Boston  University"  is  an  additional  incentive 
for  tile  buying  of  a  work  of  such  merit. 

young  Li'le  of  Famous  Folk.     By  Cora  Lowe  Watk ins.      12mo,  pp.   IIG.     Na.slivi]le,  Tcnn. : 
Sniiih  i:  Lamar.      Price,  cloth,  75  cents. 

O.N-  the  title  page  "of  this  little  book  is  this  quotation  from  Bishop 
Foss:  "Men  destined  to  be  forces  are  generally  thrust  out  into  the  arena 
:»nil  put  upon  their  mettle  young."  Nineteen  brief  and  simple  sketches 
rive  Klimpses  of  the  childhood  and  youth  of  such  famous  folk  as  Paiskin, 
H'll.HTt  E.  Lee.  Webster,  Dickens,  Emerson,  Tennyson,  Longfellow, 
V.  LlttU-r,  Lanier,   Bryant,  Hawthorne,   Henry  Drumniond,  Eugene  Field, 


176  Mdliodisi  Ilcvieiv  [January 

Florence  Nightingale,  and  Peter  Cooper.  The  book  might  have  l)een 
entitled  "Nineteen  Little  F'olks  and  How  They  Grew  to  Be  Great 
Foils s."  Here  is  an  incident  from  Professor  Drunimond's  boyhood: 
A  famous  preacher  to  children  was  holding  a  service  for  all  the  Sab- 
bath schools  of  Stirling.  The  church  being  crowded,  one  class  was 
seated  on  the  pulpit  stairs,  and  Henry  and  two  other  boys  were 
taken  into  the  pulpit  itself.  The  preacher  began  his  sermon  by  comparing 
the  Bible  to  a  tree — each  book  a  branch,  each  chapter  a  twig,  and  each 
verse  a  leaf.  "My  text  is  on  the  thirty-ninth  branch,  the  third  twig,  and 
the  seventeenth  leaf.  Try  to  find  it  for  me."  Almost  immediately  Henry 
slipped  from  behind  the  preacher  and  said,  "Malachi,  third  and  seven- 
teen." "Hight,  my  boy.  Now  take  my  place  and  lead  it  out."  Then  from 
the  pulpit  came  the  clear  voice,  "And  they  shall  be  mine,  saith  the  Lord 
of  hosts,  in  that  day  when  I  make  up  my  jewels."  The  preacher,  laying 
his  hand  on  the  boy's  head,  said:  "Well  done.  I  hope  that  one  day  you 
will  be  a  minister."  In  an  address  on  "Spiritual  Diagnosis"  before  a 
theological  society  Professor  Drummond  once  maintained  that  a  minister 
can  do  more  good  by  "buttonholing"  men  than  by  preaching  sermons. 
He  contra-sted  the  usual  training  of  a  minister  with  the  clinical  training 
of  a  physician,  and  thought  it  a  fault  in  our  theological  curriculum  that 
it  keeps  the  student  in  his  text-books,  without  any  direct  dealing  with 
men  or  close  contact  with  actual  human  life.  Here  is  the  story  of  little 
Louisa  May  Alcott's  conversion:  "One  summer  morning  just  at  dawn 
she  ran  over  the  hills  and  into  the  v.-oods,  where  she  stopped  to  rest. 
The  lovely  summer  morning  and  a  happj'  mood  seemed  to  bring  tbe  child's 
soul  near  to  God,  and  in  the  Quiet  of  that  early  morning  hour  she  alvraya 
felt  that  she  'got  religion.'  The  new  sense  of  His  presence  which  came 
to  her  then  went  with  her  through  forty  years,  and  grew  stronger  with 
the  poverty  and  pain  and  sorrow  and  success  that  came  into  her  life." 
Eugene  Field,  though  born  in  Saint  Louis,  spent  his  boyhood  in  New 
England.  In  manhood  he  said,  "I  bless  New  England  forever  for  i>ounding 
me  with  the  Bible  and  the  spelling  book."  The  New  England  Sabbath, 
with  its  Bible  and  holy  hymns  and  v.-hat  he  heard  from  the  pulpit  week 
after  week,  influenced  him  for  good  all  his  life  more  than  anything  else 
did.  So  he  testified.  Young  Field  was  a  good  declaimer,  and  at  one  time 
was  Eeized  with  ambition  to  be  an  actor.  He  went  to  Edwin  Forrest  and 
made  known  his  ambition;  but  the  great  tragedian,  eying  him  from  head 
to  foot,  exclaimed,  "Boy,  return  to  your  friends  and  bid  them  apprentice 
you  to  a  wood-sawyer  rather  than  waste  your  life  on  a  profession  whose 
successes  are  few  and  whose  rewards  are  bankruptcy  and  ingratitude." 
We  are  told  that  the  only  books  Eugene  Field  kept  at  hand  when  writing 
in  his  box-stall  in  the  editorial  room  of  a  Chicago  newspaper  were  the 
Bible,  a  concordance,  and  Bartlctfs  Familiar  Quotations.  Over  his  desk 
hung  a  sign,  "This  is  my  busy  day,"  and  on  the  opposite  wall,  "God 
bless  our  proof  leaderl     He  can't  call  for  him  too  soon." 


METHODIST    REVIEW 


ISXA.RCII,  1910 


Art.  I.— JESl.S  OK  CHPJST? 
In  1865  Strauss  published  a  work  entitled  The  Christ  of  Faith 
r.ud  the  Jesus  of  Histoi-y.  The  book  was  a  criticism  of  Schleier- 
luacher's  Life  of  Jesus,  and  Strauss's  aim  was  to  emphasize  the 
doctrine  of  his  ow]i  life  of  Jesus,  that  the  Christ  of  faith  is  a  pro- 
duction of  the  church,  while  the  Jesus  of  history  is  something  very 
dilferent.  The  antithesis  expressed  in  the  title  of  his  later  work 
has  become  quite  the  order  of  the  day  in  recent  tiuies.  The  Hibbert 
Jour))al  recently  published  a  symposium  on  the  subject,  and  a  book 
hearing  the  title  Jesus  or  Christ?  bar-  lately  appeared.  Those  who 
nujintain  the  negative  view  in  this  ma'.ter  are  generally  quite  acute 
in  objection,  but  not  always  strong  an('  comprehensive  in  their  dis- 
cussion of  the  subject.  Every  student  'aiows  how  easy  it  is  to  raise 
chjections,  and  how  often  many  a  write.'*  who  in  attack  is  very  able 
}a-ovcs  to  be  weak  enough  when  put  on  llie  defensive.  Of  course  in 
logic  a  theory  is  justified  not  merely  or  laaiuly  by  the  objections  it 
can  raise  to  other  views,  but  also,  and  nore  especially,  by  its  own 
I'o-^iiive  adequacy  to  the  facts.  It  often  happens  that  a  view  which, 
considered  by  itself,  has  many  difficulties  is,  nevertheless,  the  line 
f'f  least  resistance,  so  that  Avheu  the  subject  is  comprehensively  con- 
sidered, the  view  is  found  to  be  one  in  which  the  mind  most  easily 
i*osts.  And  this  seems  to  us  to  be  the  case  with  this  discussion  of 
Jesus  or  Christ  ?  The  orthodox  view,  Avhile  undoubtedly  having  its 
mysteries  and  difficulties,  after  all  turns  out  to  be  the  one  of  least 
rcHislance.    To  show  this,  and  thus  indirectly  to  support  the  ortho- 


178  Methodist  Review  [March 

dox  view,  I  purpose  first  of  all  to  examine  a  little  book  reeentlv 
published  which  is  essentially  devoted  to  this  problem.  If  we  find 
that  it  makes  more  diOIcultics  than  it  removes,  and  requires  more 
faith  than  the  view  it  rejects,  we  shall  find  ourselves  correspond- 
ingly confirmed  in  the  historic  faith  of  Christianity.  The  book  is 
entitled  'What  We  Know  about  Jesus.  Tlie  author,  a  liberal 
clergyman  of  advanced  type,  says:  "Our  study  requires  us  to 
separate  two  words  which  have  grown  together,  namely,  'Jesus' 
and  •'Christ.'  They  rc})rcsent  diircreut  ideas."  For  him,  then,  the 
word  "Jesus"  is  the  name  of  the  real  man,  the  prophet  of  Galilee; 
"Christ"  is  the  name  for  the  dogmatic  creation  of  the  church,  his- 
torically baseless  and  infected  v^nth  all  manner  of  dogmatic  and 
theological  suggestions.  It  will  be  seen  from  this  that  the  author's 
thought  is  essentially  that  of  Strauss.  Of  course  the  similarity  is 
in  the  title  only.  There  is  no  suggestion  in  this  brochure  of  the 
massive  scholarship  of  Strauss,  but  still  the  general  thought  is  that 
the  JcHUS  of  history  must  be  very  sharply  distinguished  from  the 
Christ  of  faith.  What,  then,  do  we  know  about  Jesus?  What  we 
may  believe  about  Christ  is  another  thing.  That  is  a  matter  of 
dogma  and  traditir^n,  but  what  we  know  about  Jesus  is  a  question 
of  history,  and  is  to  be  determint  d  by  historical  methods.  As  the 
result  of  much  rcilection  the  author  concludes  that  we  do  not  know 
very  much  about  Jesus  and  not  all  that  we  seem  to  know  is  entirely 
to  his  credit.     He  says : 

From  any  point  of  view  the  problem  must  be  extremely  difficult.  It 
Is  no  slight  task,  indeed,  to  obtain  a  really  clear  and  lifelike,  not  to  say 
accurate,  description  of  a  man  of  our  own  stock  and  language,  and  as  near 
our  own  time  as  Chauniug  and  Washington,  only  a  hundred  years  ago  or 
less.  But  in  Jesus'a  case  we  have  to  make  our  way  back  nearly  twenty 
centuries.  We  peer  dimly  through  hundreds  of  years  where  books  or, 
rather,  manuscripts  were  extremely  rare,  and  careful  scholarship  as  we 
know  the  term  was  rarer  still. .  .  .  We  come  at  last  upon  a  few  bits  of  writ- 
ing v/hich  constitute  almost  the  sole  authority  of  our  knowledge  for  the  be- 
ginnings of  Christianity.  I  mean  the  Nev/  Testament  books,  the  Gospels. 
the  Acts,  and  the  Epistles.  Outside  of  these  writings  we  know  nothing 
authentic  about  Jesus.  Moreover,  most  of  the  New  Testament  does  not 
profess  to  give  us  any  information  about  him.  Paul  obviously  had  only 
the  slightest  acquaintance  with  his  tenoliings,  which  ho  hardly  more  thai) 
quotes  once,  or  of  hii^  historic  life,  which  ho  seems  to  slight  in  favor  of  a 
somewhat  myBtical  theory  of  his  personality   (p.  2). 


1910]  Jesus  or  Christ  7  179 

Obviously,  then,  v;e  cannot  get  much  first-hand  knowledge.  A 
few  pages  at  most,  the  amount  of  a  simple  i)amphlct,  are  the  sum  of 
our  material:  "A  considerable  part  of  the  material  consists  in 
wonder  stories  or  miracles." 

Only  a  few  personal  iucidents  here  and  there,  a  glimpse  as  of  one 
passins  in  the  street,  serve  to  reveal  the  real  man.  How  we  strain  our 
eyes  to  see  what  he  looks  like,  to  catch  the  tone  of  his  voice,  to  get  for 
C'ne  long  moment  the  clear  impress  of  his  personality.  Who  can  honestly 
6ay  that  he  ever  feels  acciuainted  with  Jesus?  (p.  7).  How  many  clearly 
.M.uthentic  utterances  have  we  from  Jesus?  What  can  we  rest  upon?  What 
exactly  did  he  do?  "What  did  he  say  of  himself  and  his  mission?  What 
commandments  did  he  Ir.y  dovrn,  or  what  ordinances  did  he  establish? 
What  new  ideas,  if  any,  did  he  contribute?  The  answers  to  all  these 
questions  must  be  found,  if  at  all,  in  the  study  of  a  few  pages  of  th9 
Bynoptic  Gospels.  No  one  is  sure  or  can  possibly  be  sure  of  these  answers. 
The  ligiit  is  too  dim  in  the  remote  corner  of  the  Roman  empire  of  the 
first  century  where  we  are  at  work  deciphering,  as  it  were,  a  series  of 
palimpsests  (p.  9). 

Our  knowledge  of  Jesus,  then,  seems  to  be  in  a  bad  way,  and 
when  we  turn  to  the  pamphlets  we  find  no  single  account  of  a  con- 
aistent  character,  but  many  scattered  characters  which  leave  us  in 
great  uncertainty. 

The  general  portraiture  of  Jesus  in  the  fourth  Gospel  hardly  im- 
presses ua  as  winning  or  lovable.  We  are  constantly  disturbed  by  the 
language  of  egotism  and  self-assertion  put  into  Jesus's  month,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  author's  evident  conception  of  a  mystical  and  Messianic 
personage,  not  a  veritable  man.  The  constant  use  of  the  word  "I"  almost 
Kpoils  the  Gospel  for  profitable  reading  to  a  modern  congregation.  Jlore- 
cvcr,  John's  Jesus  repeatedly  assails,  provokes,  and  castigates  the  leaders 
if  his  people.  All  this  portraiture,  judged  by  our  highest  standards  of 
conduct,  is  unworthy  of  the  best  type  of  man,  not  to  sav  a  good  God 
(p.  15). 

The  author  is  unpleasantly  impressed  witli  this  egotism  of 
Jesus  and  recurs  to  it  more  than  once.  Ue  thinks  it  "not  in  line 
with  the  whole  trend  of  the  democratic  thought  of  our  age.  To  most 
men  even  yet  Jesus  is  the  center  and  head  of  a  monarchical  scheme 
"I  religion.  .  .  .  The  democratic  ideal,  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
trives of  a  host  of  men  all  of  one  common  nature,  all  associated 
togt'lher  as  members  of  one  family,  all  needing  both  to  help  and 
to  bo  helped,  to  give  and  to  take  of  each  other,  to  teach  and  to 


180  Methodist  lieview  [March 

he  taught,  to  inspire  and  to  he  inspired  by  every  fresh  act  and 
word  of  friendliness  and  devotion.  There  is  here  no  one  master 
or  leader  or  Saviour — like  a  king  cell  in  the  human  body.  There 
is  reciprocity,  there  is  mutuality.  .  .  .  Tliis  alone  is  spiritual 
democracy"  (p.  SG).  The  synoptic  Gos})els  arc  better  in  this 
respect,  but  here,  too,  the  wonder  stories  make  up  so  large  a  part 
of  the  narrative  as  to  tend  to  obscure  the  portrait  of  the  real  Jesus. 
Some  things  related  are  fine,  but  the  story  of  the  temptation 
"reads  like  a  series  of  dreams ;  it  belongs  to  no  real  world."  His 
habitual  attitude  toward  the  Pharisees  is  not  to  his  credit:  "He 
never  seems  to  show^  them  any  s}^npathy.  He  upbraids  and 
denounces  them  and  calls  them  by  harsh  names,  as  hypocrites,  a? 
a  generation  of  vipers,  and,  if  one  could  believe  the  fourth  Gospel, 
as  'children  of  the  wicked  one.'  'Ye  are  of  your  father,  the  devil.' 
Few  realize  how^  many  such  passages  there  are."  In  smaller 
matters  Jesus  seems  to  have  spoken  in  an  unfilial  way  to  his  mother, 
and  in  his  cleansing  of  the  temple  and  denunciation  of  the  church- 
men of  his  time  he  appears  to  have  given  way  to  unpardonable 
temper.  "This  story  matches,  indeed,  with  the  theory  of  a  super- 
natural and  terrible  Messiah.  But  as  the  story  of  an  actual  man 
it  is  nothing  less  than  an  act  of  anarchy,  like  lynch  law"  (p  23). 
His  egotism,  already  refen'ed  to,  further  appears  in  putting  for- 
ward his  own  personalit}'  as  central  to  his  work  and  message. 
This,  too,  displeases  the  author,  for  "the  world  is  going  to  learn 
the  use  of  a  greater  word  than  the  *I'  of  a  IMessiah.  The  noblest 
of  leaders  may  not  safely  dwell  on  the  centralily  of  his  own  person. 
The  more  modest  words  Sve'  and  'ours'  alone  keep  men  safe 
and  in  orderly  place  in  the  ranks  of  the  common  humanity.  Xo 
one  may  assume  a  sole  authority  over  his  fellows.  .  .  .  There 
blends,  therefore,  with  the  touches  of  the  common  and  genial 
humanity  an  almost  repellent  impression  of  aloofness  as  of  one 
already  the  inhalutant  of  another  and  mystic  realm.  On  this  side 
Jesus  is  wx'll-nigh  unapproachable.  Normal  humanity  is  apart 
from  this  realm.  It  is  the  region  of  fanaticism  and  of  religious 
extravagance"  (p.  G5). 

Thus  ^ve  see  that  Jesus  as  portrayed  in  the  Gospels  does  not 
make  a  good  im])ression  on  the  author.     There  are,  indeed,  many 


lUlO]  Jesus  or  Christ  ?  181 

remarkable  and  wonderful  passages  of  love  and  many  gleams  of 
deep  insight,  but  along  with  these  there  arc  many  other  things 
unpleasant  and  forbidding.  There  are,  for  example,  suggestions 
of  eternal  damnation.  The  devil  is  not  altogether  ruled  out.  Then, 
too,  there  is  the  unpleasant  refrain,  ''Where  the  worm  dieth  not 
and  the  fire  is  not  quenched."  The  picture  of  Dives  in  hell  is 
terrific,  and  such  parables  as  "the  wedding  feast,  the  wise  and 
foolish  virgins,  and  the  talents  are  morally  more  or  less  vitiated  for 
our  use  by  the  inhuman  ending  of  each  of  them"  (p.  47).  Thus 
the  matter  gets  worse  and  worse.  Jesus  himself  seems  also  to 
have  adopted  the  Messianic  idea,  as  "it  is  not  easy  at  all  otherwise 
to  explain  so  numerous  a  number  of  passages  ascribed  to  him. 
The  origin  and  gTOAvth  of  the  resurrection  stories  seem  also  more 
likely  to  have  come  with  Jcsus's  help  by  way  of  preparation  for 
them  llian  without  any  such  help.  They  also  came,  T  surmise, 
with  a  wave  of  interest  and  belief  in  occult  and  ps3-chic  phenomena, 
of  which  we  get  hints  in  the  Gospels,  as,  for  example,  in  the  story 
of  Herod's  theory  of  the  reincarnation  of  John  the  Baptist  in  the 
person  of  Jesus,  in  the  story  of  Jesus  walking  on  the  sea,  in  the 
legend  of  the  transfiguration,  as  well  as  in  the  ghostly  appear- 
ances in  Jerusalem  after  Jesus's  death"  (p.  53).  Thus  we  see  that 
Jesus  seems  to  have  regarded  himself  as  appointed  by  God  for  a 
peculiar  mission,  and  as  being  so  understood  by  the  people  of  his 
time,  for  "Why  did  the  authorities  put  Jesus  to  death  if  he 
claimed  nothing  beyond  the  gift  of  ordinary  prophecy?  N"o  one 
can  easily  explain  his  very  frequent  assumption  of  some  species 
of  unique  and  authoritative  character,  except  by  the  quite  natural 
belief  that  he  took  himself  to  be — I  will  not  urge  more  than  a  man, 
but  a  man  appointed  by  God  for  a  peculiar  mission.  You  cer- 
tainly have  to  do  violence  to  his  language  in  order  to  dissociate 
the  centrality  of  his  owri  person  from  numerous  passages.  The 
more  than  prophetic  'I'  and  'mine,'  while  not  so  exaggerated  as  in 
the  fourth  Gospel,  yet  run  all  through  the  synoptic  Gospels.  The 
vei;v  words,  'Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor,'  emphasi7:e  this 
centrality  of  thought"  (p.  54).  There  is  here  a  clear  recognition 
of  the  fact  that  Jesus  made  very  high  claims  for  himself,  and  was 
so  understood  by  the  people,  both  friends  and  enemies.     Of  course 


182  Mdhodist  llcview  [ilarck 

in  all  this  he  was  mistaken,  and  would  seem  to  have  suffered  from 
megalomania  in  an  aggravated  form. 

This  leads  us  to  consider  Jesus  as  the  founder  of  Ohriitianitj. 
Here  the  author  says  : 

In  the  first  place,  there  seems  to  be  no  ground  to  believe  that  Jesus 
even  in  the  role  of  Messiah  ever  intended  to  found  a  new  religion.  .  .  . 
The  truth  is  that  the  early  Christianity  obviously  owed  its  success  very 
largely  to  the  indefatigable  labors  of  Paul,  whose  genius  picked  it  out  of 
the  lines  of  a  Jewish  sect  and  gave  it  a  quasi-universal  character.  As 
Jesus  founded  no  new  religion,  so  he  wrote  no  books  and  professed  to 
bring  no  new  doctrines.  There  is  no  certainty  that  he  appointed  apostles, 
least  of  all  twelve  in  number  (p.  73). 

Jesus  as  thus  described  is  so  unpromising  a  character  that  the 
author  is  strongl}'  inclined  (o  find  the  source  of  Christianity  else- 
where than  in  him.  Thus  in  speaking  of  the  parable  of  the  sheep 
and  the  goats  and  others,  he  says : 

It  wa.s  no  feeble  hand  that  composed  the  tremendous  chaptei-s  to 
which  we  refer  and  these  grand  and  awful  parables.  This  is  the  hand 
of  a  prophet.  It  would  look  nov/,  contrary  to  the  ordinary  impression, 
but  in  line  with  all  the  analoriies  of  history,  as  if  we  had  not  merely  the 
figure  of  one  man,  Jesus,  all  alone,  but  a  group  of  remarkable  personali- 
ties— Paul,  the  anonymous  author  of  the  Johannine  writings,  the  author 
of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  besides  those  who  put  the  synoptic  Gospels 
into  shape.  It  may  be  true,  as  Matthew  Arnold  has  suggested,  that  Jesus 
was  above  the  head  of  his  disciples,  but  it  begins  now  to  loolt  more  as  if 
the  nevr.  religion  must  have  owed  its  existence  to  a  succession  of  great 
individualities,  all  of  them  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  earlier 
prophets  (p.  49). 

But  this  suggestion  of  unknown  powerful  v.-ritcrs  "who  may  have 
supplemented  Jesus's  teaching  with  more  or  less  fresh  material 
leaves  the  figure  of  Jesus  himself  even  more  obscure  and  frag- 
mentary. Where  docs  the  authentic  teaching  of  Jesus  leave  off 
and  these  others  begin  ?  IN'o  one  knoAvs  or  ever  can  know.  How 
far  was  Jesus  resj^onsible  for  the  more  extreme  and  terrific  doc- 
trine which  vras  evidently  in  the  air  while  he  lived  and  which  he 
seems  to  have  done  nothing  to  controvert  ?"  (p.  50).  In  this  sugges- 
tion the  author  finds  great  relief.  He  says  there  has  been  "a 
profound  ethical  difficulty  in  the  theory  of  Jesus's  uiiiquencss  from 
which  we  are  now  relieved.  Tlio  fact  is  that  our  highest  spiritual 
ideal  will  not  permit  us  to  believe  that  the  sanguinary  words  put 


1010] 


Jesus  or  Christ  f  183 


into  Jesns's  mouth  could  proceed  from  a  man  wholly  possessed 
with  the  spirit  of  God"  (p.  51).     The  author  seems  to  have  great 
faith  in  the  existence  of  these  unknown  individualities,  but  appears 
to  have  overlooked  the  fact  that,  like  Paid,  they  put  Jesus  at  the 
front  rather  than  themselves.     Whoever  wrote  the  stories,  they  all 
make  Jesus  the  hero  of  the  play.     Paul  is  busy  with  the  precxis- 
tcnt  Christ,  who  was  rich,  and  for  our  sakes  became  poor,  that  we 
throuirh  his  poverty  might  be  made  rich,     ''God  forbid  that  I 
.should  glory,"  he  says,  "save  in  the  cross  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 
Christ  Jesus  had  come  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,   and  he 
refuses  to  know   anything  but  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified. 
We  can  hardly  imagine  a  more  ex-traordinary  vagary  than  this, 
which  founds  Jesus  on  Paul,  instead  of  Paul  on  his  faith  in  Jesus. 
And  the  other  seems  to  be  in  the  same  condition.     As  said,  Jesus 
is  the  hero  of  the  drama,  whoever  the  vrriter  may  be.    We  may  not 
know  very  much  about  Jesus,  but  we  know  nothing  whatever  about 
these  other  people,  and  they  seem  to  be  largely  products  of  the 
a-othor's  imagination.     But  with  all  this  outiit  we  still  seem  to 
have  no  great  promise  of  success  for  a  new  religion.     The  author 
says: 

Suppose  that  he  [Jesus]  had  merely  emphasized  the  Fathe»hoo(l  of 
God,  and  the  brotherhood  of  rann,  though  in  the  clearest  manner,  does 
anyone  imagine  that  a  real  religion  could  have  been  established  and  made 
to  endure  on  this  simple  basis  in  the  age  of  Nero  and  in  the  face  of 
Gothic  invasions?     (P.  73.) 

We  should  reply,  Certainly  not;  for  establishing  a  real  religion 
in  the  world  of  real  men  is  a  somewhat  difficult  task.  And  wo 
do  not  think  the  case  very  much  helped  by  referring  to  Paul  and 
those  other  remarkable  personalities.  And  the  author  himself 
beems  to  find  some  other  foundation  necessary;  and  here  it  is: 

The  primitive  Christianity  was  involved  with  certain  very  natural 
and  fascinating  ideas  lying  close  to  the  border  land  of  error,  which,  like 
alloy  mixed  with  the  gold,  gave  it  common  currency.  One  of  these  Ideas, 
akin  to  the  ideas  of  modern  spiritualists,  was  the  bodily  or  physical  resur- 
rection of  Jesus.  This  appealed  tremendously,  as  such  a  notion  always 
does  appeal,  to  the  popular  imagination.  This  was  the  burden  of  Paul's 
leaching,  though  he  seems  for  himself  not  to  have  credited  a  physical 
resurrection  so  much  as  the  repeated  appearance  of  Jesus  In  his  "spiritual 
body."    The  early  church  also  seems  to  have  looked  lor  the  mlTaculoua 


18-t  Mclkodint  Beviciu  [j^Iarcli 

coming  of  their  Lord  from  heaven  to  judge  the  world.  This  was  aa  idea 
to  conjure  with  and  to  make  converts.  The  grand  expectation  in  the 
early  church  that  spiritual  events  were  about  to  spring  forth  made  such 
a  book  as  the  Apocalypse  possible.  Again,  the  early  Christianity,  just  like 
Christian  Science  to-day,  was  a  vigorous  health  cult,  all  the  more  per- 
suasive from  the  common  delusion  that  devils  were  the  cause  of  disease. 
The  Christian  healer,  at  the  magic  name  of  Jesus,  could  cast  out  the 
devils  and  cure  the  sick.  Imagine  this  idea  removed  from  the  early  Chris- 
tianity and  try  to  think  what  would  have  been  the  collapse  of  faith. 
These  three  ideas,  like  so  many  strands,  helprd  mightily  to  hold  Chris- 
tians togetlicr  until  the  new  religion  came  to  be  fortified  with  the  priest- 
craft, the  pomp,  and  power  of  imperial  Rome.  Then  it  largely  ceased  to 
be  Jesus's  religion  at  all  (p.  73). 

Here,  then,  is  the  author's  account  of  the  origin  of  Christianity 
and  the  Christian  Church.  Wc  have  first  a  megalomaniac,  whose 
mania  went  hcjond  anything  known  in  the  annals  of  insane 
asylums.  He  contrived,  however,  to  obsess  a  number  of  remarkable 
personalities  with  the  belief  of  his  own  greatness;  and  these 
worked  together,  thoitgh  they  kept  mostly  out  of  sight,  in  such  a 
way  as  to  produce  the  Christian  doctrine  and  the  Christian  Church. 
Most  of  the  things  assigned  to  Jesus  really  do  not  belong  to  him, 
although  he  plainly  had  some  Messianic  expectations  and  unpleas- 
ant aloofnesses.  But  all  these  things  together  are  insufficient  witli- 
out  the  belief  in  the  pliysical  resurrection  and  second  advent 
of  Jesus,  the  casting  out  of  devils,  and  tlie  cure  of  diseases. 
"These  great  ideas  like  so  many  strands  helped  mightily  to  hold 
Christians  together."  How  the  belief  in  the  resurrection  could 
have  sprimg  up  so  suddenly  and  done  its  work  of  inspiration  so 
mightily  without  any  corresponding  fact  is  not  considered.  These 
were  ideas  "to  conjure  with,"  and  that  is  enough.  The  church 
made  the  Jesus  of  histoi-y  into  the  Christ  of  faith,  and  when  we 
ask  how  the  church  came  to  exist,  we  have  some  suggestions  about 
religious  evolution  in  which,  however,  these  mistaken  notions  play 
a  prominent  part,  they  being  the  gi-cat  "strands"  without  which, 
apparently,  in  the  author's  thought,  Christianity  could  not  have 
endured.  Of  course  these  great  strands  were  all  errors,  and  we 
are  left  with  the  somewhat  difficult  problem  as  to  how  error  could 
play  so  beneficent  a  part  in  the  real  world  while  the  truth  would 
have  gime  tinder  without  it';  support.     It  would  really  seem  that 


10] 0]  Jesus  or  Christ  f  185 

if  error  could  work  so  well  in  the  beginning,  there  is  no  a  priori 
reason  why  it  might  not  be  as  beneficial  even  in  later  ages.  We 
might  still  find  a  place  for  a  belief  in  the  resurrection  and  the 
headship  of  Christ,  and  even  in  liis  divinity,  in  order  to  hold  the 
fiiith  together.  Since  error  played  so  great  a  part  and  still  con- 
tinues to  do  so,  with  the  exception  of  a  very  few  enlightened 
spirits,  there  appears  to  be  no  reason  why  it  should  not  continue  its 
useful  role.  It  may  still  be  too  early  for  truth  to  be  received. 
Truth  may  be  so  ethereal,  so  ideal,  as  to  be  safe  only  in  the  upper 
air,  being  altogether  too  weak  for  the  rough-and-tuni])le  of  real 
life.  The  waning  fortunes  of  the  author's  own  religious  body, 
and  its  complete  ineffectiveness  in  all  missionary  work,  would 
seem  to  suggest  that  there  is  still  a  place  for  error  in  the  form  of 
•  the  old  gospel  of  Christ.  And  if  we  should  adopt  the  orthodox 
conception  that  the  Father  sent  the  Son  to  manifest  God  to  men 
and  to  be  their  Guide  and  Saviour,  this  one  "strand"  might  pos- 
sibly suffice  without  any  others.  It  certainly  must  be  a  mattei- 
for  much  heart-searching  on  the  author's  part  to  see  error  up  to 
date  so  far  in  advance  of  what  he  conceives  to  be  the  truth,  and  to 
see  the  truth,  as  he  conceives  it,  sensibly  on  the  wane. 

The  Jesus  of  history  and  the  Christ  of  faith  cannot  be  sejv 
arated  in  time.  Whenever  we  find  anything  in  the  history  of  the 
early  church  we  find  the  Christ,  of  faith.  As  we  have  already 
pointed  out,  Paul  and  "those  other  remarkable  personalities"  who 
are  mentioned  as  the  great  founders  of  the  faith  make  Christ  him- 
self the  Founder.  Certainly  Paul,  who  calls  himself  a  slave  of 
•Tesus  Christ,  was  very  far  from  looking  upon  Christ  as  a  secon- 
dary Person.  His  thought  was  full  of  the  preexistence  of  Jesus. 
Similarly  with  the  other  remarkable  personalities.  They  seem  to 
be  preaching  the  gospel  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  The  distinction  between 
the  Jesus  of  history  and  the  Christ  of  faith  is  fictitious,  for  the 
Christ  of  faith  is  what  we  really  find  when  we  find  anything. 
Paul,  writing  ^vithin  thirty  years  of  the  crucifixion,  assumes  the 
orthodox  faith  to  be  the  faith  of  the  church,  as  in  the  ])assage 
quoted.  "For  ye  know  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  he  was 
rich,  yet  for  your  sakes  he  became  poor,  that  ye  through  liis  poverty 
iJiiglitbc  marie  rich."    Paul  did  not  know  Jesus  after  the  fiesh,  nor 


186  Methodist  Review  [March 

very  much,  so  far  as  \vc  can  learn,  of  the  Jesus  of  history.  But  he 
knew  the  Christ  of  faith  from  the  start,  and  in  his  letters  he 
assumed  that  the  church  also  knew  this  Christ  of  faith.  The 
Gospels  equally  assume  the  Christ  of  faith. 

JSIow,  in  order  to  explain  this  Christ  of  faith  there  must  have 
been  a  corresponding  Jesus  of  history.  It  required  move  than  a 
simple  egotist,  somewhat  fanatical  and  unpleasantly  aloof,  to  move 
men  in  the  way  in  which  they  were  moved  in  the  early  Christian 
years,  and  to  start  a  new  current  in  religious  development  such  as 
that  which  has  come  from  him.  Christ  hiinself  left  nothing  in 
the  way  of  writing,  and  we  have  not  many  documents  from  that 
early  time  of  any  sort.  But  he  left  a  company  of  disciples,  and  the 
story  runs  that  he  promised  that  the  Holy  Spirit  should  be  with 
them  to  guide  them  into  the  truth,  so  as  to  make  plain  in  the  com- 
ing years  what  it  all  meant  and  what  the  divine  purpose  had  been 
in  the  incaruation  of  the  Divine  So]i.  And  this  leads  us  to  inquire 
as  to  what  kind  of  a  revelation  we  should  expect  in  the  case. 
Possibly  a  person  of  modern  scientific  tendencies  would  have  liked 
to  have  a  series  of  careful  experiments  made  with  appropriate 
afndavits  and  with  a  code  of  legislation  drawn  up  so  as  to  v/ard  off 
Sadducean  objection.  We  certainly  have  no  revelation  of  that 
kind,  and  wt,  may  well  doubt  whether  it  would  have  been  desirable. 
The  one  thing  that  w^as  important  was  to  make  an  impression  of 
a  character  wliich  should  shine  through  that  history  and  subse- 
quent history  and  remain  a  permanent  inspiration  and  illumina- 
tion for  the  religious  life  of  the  race.  And  that  seems  to  be,  at 
least  in  orthodox  thought,  what  we  actually  have,  just  such  a 
revelation  of  infinite  goodness  and  condescension  and  righteous- 
ness, which,  while  leaving  most  of  the  mystery  untouched,  neverthe- 
less makes  a  revelation  of  God  such  that  w^e  can  love  liim  and 
trust  him  even  where  and  when  we  do  not  understand.  It  would 
not  seem  to  have  been  God's  purpose  to  satisfy  professional  Sad- 
ducees  but  to  make  a  revelation  of  himself  to  plain  men  and  women. 
And  such  a  revelation  these  men  and  women  have  found  in  the 
gospel  story.  But  the  author  does  not  seem  to  think  we  hare  such 
a  revelation.  He  finds  the  Jesus  of  the  gospel,  as  we  have  said, 
an    uncertain    character,    with    many    contradictions,    uuplea.^ant 


r 


j'jlO]  Jesus  or  Christ  ?  187 

aloofnesses,  and  egotisms.  This,  however,  is  a  question  which  haa 
to  be  decided  by  the  religious  worth  that  the  picture  of  Jesus  given 
in  the  Gospels  has  had  for  the  religious  life  of  humanity.  We 
may  dwell  on  the  barren  fig  tree,  or  the  fish  with  the  coin  in  its 
uioiith,  and  many  another  thing  of  that  hind,  and  thus  conceal  from 
ourselves  entirely  the  majestic  figure  of  Christ  which  men  gen- 
erally have  beheld  through  the  gospel  narratives.  The  same  thing 
affects  different  people  differently.  One  j^erson  reading  Paul's 
words,  "If  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him;  if  he  thirst,  give  him 
drink,  for  in  so  doing  thou  shall  heap  coals  of  fire  upon  his  head," 
declared  it  was  the  most  infernal  thing  he  had  ever  heard.  In 
such  cases  there  can  be  no  argument.  Men  reveal  themselves  in 
their  judgments.  In  like  manner  v\'e  can  look  upon  the  life  of 
Christ  and  fix  upon  the  contradictions  of  details  or  the  things 
which  may  offend  our  taste,  and  may  finally  decide  that  he  was 
a  quite  inferior  person  and  very  far  from  ideal  for  us.  And  here, 
too,  there  can  be  no  argument.  We  can  only  appeal  to  the  judg- 
ment of  humanity  in  the  case.  It  is  not  a  question  of  objective 
historical  evidence  alone,  but  of  the  interpretation  of  the  gospel 
story  or  of  the  impression  it  makes  upon  us.  To  the  Jews  it  was 
a  stumbling-block  and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness,  but  to  them  that 
believe  it  was  and  still  is  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation.  The 
judgment  of  the  Christian  world  has  most  certainly  not  agreed 
with  our  author's  estimate  of  the  gospel  narratives.  As  the  result 
of  their  study  Christians  have  generally  set  Jesus  on  high  as  tho 
Lord  of  Glory,  the  Desire  of  iSTatious,  the  Hope  of  Humanity,  the 
Judge  of  the  World,  and  they  do  it  still  with  as  good  right  as 
ever.  Historical  study  has  discovered  nothing  that  forbids  this 
interpretation.  Debate  is  idle.  At  the  last  the  personal  equation 
decides,  and  the  survival  of  the  fittest  revises  the  decision.  It  is 
significant  in  this  regard  that  the  views  within  the  Christian 
Church  that  have  departed  from  this  orthodox  faith  have  had  only 
a  parasitic  and  precarious  existence,  and,  left  to  themselves,  have 
shown  marked  tendencies  to  dccaj'.  A  minimum  of  faith  has  no 
attraction.  When  it  comes  to  believing  we  want  to  believe  somo- 
thing  worth  while. 

The  author  is  fully  convinced  of  the  goodness  of  God,  and 


388  Methodist  Review  [March 

speaks  impressively  of  the  Infinite  Good  Will.     In  this  we  agree 
with  him,  but  it  is  somewliat  surprising  that  he  should  fail  to 
sec  that  his  style  of  criticism  could  be  equally  used  to  throw 
doubt  ui)on  the  first  article  of  the  Creed,  the  belief  in  God,  the 
Father  Almighty.     ATe  have  only  to  pick  and  choose,  to  fix  our 
thought  upon  the  obscure  and  unintelligible  things,  to  make  out 
a  pretty  strong  case  for  pessimism  and  despair.     To  one  man  the 
heavens   declare  the  glory  of  God,   to   another   they  are  only  a 
mechanical  function.     To  one  man  the  earth  is  full  of  the  goodness 
of  the  Lord,  to  another  the  whole  creation  is   an   ache  and  an 
unrelieved  horror.    It  is  known  to  everyone  that  we  have  just  come 
through  a  pessimistic  period,  and  we  have  emerged  from  it  nut 
because  we  have  any  clearer  insight  into  the  works  of  God,  but 
because  humanity  has  reacted  against  the  style  of  criticism  that 
led  to  this  unfaith.     The   author,   too,   is   almost  alone   among 
thoughtful  people  in  his  estimate  of  the  character  of  Christ.     He 
finds  that  he  is  no  ideal  for  us,  and  here,  again,  he  proceeds  with 
such  bald  literalness  as  to  raise  the  question  Avhat  he  would  regard 
as  an  ideal.     In  fact,  an  ideal  is  a  rather  dangerous  possession 
unless  one  knows  how  to  use  it.     One  man  hears  that  he  must 
imitate  Jesus,  and  buys  a  pair  of  sandals,  or  a  sweater  '''without 
scam  woven,  from  the  top  throughout,"  and  parts  his  hair  in  the 
middle,  and  eats  unleavened  bread.    And  another  man  of  the  same 
sort  thinks  that  this  will  never  do,  and  because  it  will  not  do 
decides  that  Jesus  is  no  ideal  for  us.     Jesus  lived  in  Juda?a ;  he 
was  not  married;   never  went  to  college,  and  knew  nothing  of 
modern  democracy.    How  could  he  be  an  ideal  for  us  ?    Of  course 
the  author  does  not  fall  into  such  depths  as  this,  but  much  of  his 
objection  to  Jesus  as  an  ideal  smacks  a  little  of  this  kind  of  thing. 
Looking  at  nature  as  the  work  of  God,  we  might  say,  on  superficial 
study,  that  God  himself  is  no  idenl  for  us  and  is  the  last  being  in 
the  nniverse  for  man  to  imitate.     How  far  the  author  is  from  the 
ordinary  judgment,  not  merely  of  Christians  but  of  thoughtful 
men  in  general  respecting  the  character  of  Christ,   may  appear 
from  the  following  quotation  from  John  Stuart  W\\^,  who  certainly 
was  not  excessively  prone  to  orthodoxy : 

Above  all  the  most  valuable  part  of  the  effect  on  the  character  which 


liHO]  Jesus  or  Christ  ?  189 

Christianit}'  has  produced  by  holding  up  in  a  Divine  Person  a  standard 
of  excellence  and  a  model  for  imitation  is  valuable  even  to  the  absolute 
unbeliever  and  can  never  more  be  lost  to  humanity.  For  it  is  Christ, 
rather  than  God,  whom  Christianity  has  held  up  to  believers  as  the  pat- 
tern of  perfection  for  humanity.  It  is  the  God  incarnate  more  than  the 
God  of  the  Jews  or  ci  nature,  who,  beins  idealized,  has  taken  so  great 
and  salutary  a  hold  on  the  modern  man.  And  whatever  else  may  be 
taken  away  from  us  by  rational  criticism,  Christ  is  still  left,  a  unique 
figure,  not  more  unlike  all  his  precursors  than  all  his  followers,  even  those 
who  had  the  direct  benefit  of  his  personal  teaching.  It  is  of  no  use  to 
say  that  Christ  as  exhibited  in  the  Gospels  is  not  historical,  and  that  we 
know  not  how  much  of  what  is  admirable  has  been  superadded  by  the 
tradition  of  his  followers.  The  tradition  of  followers  suffices  to  insert  any 
number  of  marvels,  and  may  have  inserted  all  the  miracles  which  he  is 
reputed  to  have  wrought.  But  v/ho  among  his  disciples  or  among  their 
proselytes  was  capable  of  inventing  the  sayings  ascribed  to  Jesus,  or  of 
imagining  the  life  and  character  revealed  in  the  Gospels?  Certainly  not 
the  fisherman  of  Galilee;  as  certainly  not  Saint  Paul,  v.-hose  character 
and  idiosyncrasies  were  of  a  totally  different  sort;  still  less  the  early 
Christian  writers,  in  whom  nothing  is  more  evident  than  that  the  good 
that  was  in  them  was  all  derived,  as  they  always  professed  that  it  was 
derived,  from  the  higher  source.  .  .  .  About  the  life  and  sayings  of  Jesus 
there  is  a  stamp  of  personal  originality  combined  v/itb  profundity  of  in- 
sight, which,  if  we  abandon  the  idle  expectation  of  finding  scientific  pre- 
cision where  something  very  different  was  aimed  at,  must  place  the 
prophet  of  Nazareth,  even  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  have  no  belief 
in  his  inspiration,  in  the  very  first  rank  of  the  men  of  sublime  genius  of 
whom  our  species- can  boast.  When  this  preeminent  genius  is  combined 
with  the  "qualities  of  probably  the  greatest  moral  reformer,  and  martyr  to 
that  mission,  who  ever  existed  upon  earth,  religion  cannot  be  said  to  have 
made  a  bad  choice  in  pitching  upon  this  man  as  the  ideal  representative 
and  guide  of  humanity;  nor  even  now  would  it  be  easy,  even  for  an  un- 
believer, to  find  a  better  translation  of  the  rule  of  virtue  from  the  abstract 
Into  the  concrete  than  to  endeavor  so  to  live  that  Christ  would  approve 
our  life.     (Three  Essays  on  Religion,  p.  253.) 

Mr.  Mill  did  not  thiiik  very  liiglily  of  the  God  of  nature,  and 
lie  found  relief  from  his  difficnltic?  in  nature  in  thinking  of  Jesus; 
and  he  .seems  to  have  regarded  Jesus  as  a  worthy  ideal.  The 
author  i.s  right  in  thinking  that  the  ISTew  Testament  documents 
by  themselves  and  apart  from  all  connection  with  the  Christian 
history  do  not  give  us  much  connected  information.  They  seem 
to  be  a  set  of  memoirs,  largely  limited  to  a  brief  period  in  the  life 
of  Jesus,  which  were  gathered  together  in  their  present  form  at 
a  much  later  date.  There  seem  even  to  be  indications  that  the 
writers  did  not  always  understand  Jesus,   and  may  not  always 


100  Methodist  Beview  [March 

Itave  correctly  reported  his  words.  But  it  is  perfectly  clear  that 
they  give  no  connected  and  extended  biography.  It  is  equally 
clear  that  they  do  not  answer  a  great  many  of  the  questions  which 
the  author  seems  to  tliink  iruportant.  They,  rather,  reveal  a 
Person  somewhat  shrouded  in  mystery  and  yet  to  most  men  infi- 
nitely wiujiing  and  impressive.  They  are  impressionist  vrritings, 
but  they  have  made  a  mighty  impression.  They  are  an  impres- 
sionist picture,  but  out  of  it  looks  the  face  of  One  whom  the  church 
has  agreed  to  call  divine.  As  we  have  already  hinted,  little  was 
said  by  him  and  nothing  was  written.  l\ot  much  seems  to  have 
been  done  in  the  way  of  rules  and  institutions;  but  he  left  a  group 
of  disciples  and,  it  is  said,  promised  that  his  Spirit  should  be 
among  men  to  guide  them  into  the  truth,  xipparently  he  recog- 
nized that  the  truth  would  have  to  be  revealed  through  history, 
an.d  it  is  in  that  v/ay  the  great  revelation  was  to  come.  The  king- 
dom of  heaven  v/as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed  which  was  to  grow 
and  be  discei'ned  and  understood  in  its  growth.  This  is  a  kind  of 
revelation  which  cannot  be  expressed  in  formulas  nor  appreciated 
by  nnsympathctic  spirits;  but  when  we  take  the  documents  and 
the  history  and  the  present  religious  life  together,  the  faith  of  the 
church  certaiidy  has  in  it  less  of  difficulty  than  any  of  the  substi- 
tutes offered  for  it.  The  aloofriesses  the  author  refers  to  are  there, 
the  self-assertion,  the  tone  of  authority,  the  air  of  mystery,  and 
they  arc  rightly  there  on  the  Christian  theory.  The  Word  was 
made  flesh  and  dwelt  among  us.  The  preexistent  Son  of  God 
humbled  himself  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  that  he  might 
reveal  God  and  redeem  men.  Given  this  concejition,  we  sliould 
expect  just  the  coutradictions  the  author  finds  in  the  life  of  Christ. 
Wo  should  have  statements  in  which  the  Di\inc  appeared  and 
statements  in  which  the  human  appeared.  We  should  have  state- 
ments to  be  undei'stood  from  the  side  of  his  divinity  and  statements 
to  be  understood  from  the  side  of  his  humanity.  And  v.'e  should 
expect  in  such  a  l>eing  also  something  of  the  contradictory  aspects 
that  we  find  in  the  i-evelatioii  of  the  God  of  nature.  Life  and  law, 
inexorable  sternness  and  unspeakable  tenderness — both  aspects  are 
in  life,  and  both  have  to  be  taken  into  account  in  any  complete 
view  of  things.     This  moves  on  a  difTcront  plane  altogether  from 


1910]  Jesu.s  or  Christ  ?  191 

the  auliior's  conception.  He  finds  all  severity,  all  assertion  of  the 
harthncss  of  life,  all  recognition  of  the  tragedy  of  existence  too 
harsh  and  unlovely  for  his  tenderness  of  feeling.  But  there  are 
others  who  find  it  otherwise,  who  believe  that  great  interests  are  at 
6tal<e,  that  life  is  tragic  in  its  possibilities,  who  believe  also  that 
God  is  no  far-ofi'  Unknown,  whose  gifts  have  never  cost  him 
ftnything,  but  that  he  has  entered  into  the  fellowship  of  our  suf- 
fering and  our  sin  in  an  act  of  infinite  compassion  and  cost  to 
recover  men  to  himself.  And  we  are  persuaded  that  this  view 
will  always  command,  as  it  always  has  commanded,  the  faith  of 
men.  If  this  faith  should  disappear,  we  are  perfectly  sure  that 
the  autho^-'s  religious  notions  would  not  long  command  attention. 
When  the  sun  has  set  there  may  be  twilight  for  a  time,  but  before 
long  the  twilight  vanishes  also.  One  of  the  most  grotesque  things 
one  sometimes  hears  in  this  connection  is  that  this  view  of  Jesus 
puts  him  so  far  away  from  us  that  we  can  have  no  real  sympathy 
with  him.  It  is  alleged  to  make  an  impassable  gulf  between  us. 
Nothing  further  from  the  real  religious  life  of  men  could  be 
imagined  than  this.  For  our  Saviour  we  do  indeed  need  one  who 
understands  us  and  v;ho  can  sympathize  with  us,  but  we  do  not 
need  any  ordinary  man  like  ourselves.  We  need  something 
mightier  by  far  than  this.  What  could  such  a  man  do  for  us  ?  If 
Jesus  is  simply  the  dead  K.on  of  a  dead  carpenter,  what  can  he  do 
for  us  or  we  for  him  ?  What  docs  he  know  about  us  ?  Even  less, 
perhaps,  than  we  know  about  him.  We  really  want  some  one  who 
knows  us  altogether  as  our  eternal  companion  and  helper,  capable 
of  infinite  sympathy  and  infinite  aid.  This  has  always  been  the 
faith  of  the  church,  with  the  scantiest  exception,  and  we  have  no 
doubt  it  always  will  remain  the  faith  of  the  church. 

It  is  distinctly  an  error  in  scholarship  to  suppose  that  his- 
torical study  is  making  this  faith  any  more  difficult.  Indeed,  the 
middle  of  the  last  century  was  a  period  of  far  greater  storm  and 
Ktress,  The  mytliical  theory  of  Strauss  and  the  writings  of  the 
Tubingen  school  gave  Christian  scholars  something  to  think  about 
for  a  tiTne.  It  can  hardly  be  pretended  by  anyone  acquainted  with 
the  literature  that  current  negative  writings  have  anything  like  the' 
solid  and  original  scholarship  of  those  men.     And  in  spite  of  a 


192  Mrthodist  Ecviciv  [March 

subjective  criticism  that  nsouLI  not  be  tolerated  iu  any  other  field 
of  inquiry,  the  historieoJ  date  of  the  leading  iSlew  Testament  writ- 
ings has  been  pushed  so  far  back  as  to  establish  the  Christ  of  faith 
as  the  Christ  of  the  priraitive  church.  This  is  all  that  historical 
criticism  can  do  in  any  case,  and  a]]  that  is  really  necessary. 
\Vhether  to  accept  or  reject  this  Cln-ist  of  faith  each  must  decide 
for  himself;  but  nothing  could  well  be  more  naive  than  the  fancy 
that  the  way  of  unfaith  i:^  easy  or  is  becoming  more  so.  We  may 
add  in  closing  that  views  of  the  sort  we  have  been  criticising  have 
commonly  failed  to  keep  up  with  the  progress  of  philosophic 
thought.  They  are  generally  based  on  a  conception  of  the  old 
naturalism  which  eliminated  God  from  the  world  altogether.  It 
was  hardly  willing  to  allow  God  to  exist  at  all,  but  if  he  did  exist, 
his  sole  function  was  to  set  things  going  and  then  to  retire  from 
all  further  connection  with  the  world.  In  that  view  God  and 
nature  Avere  opposed  to  each  other  and  everything  that  had  a 
natural  explanation,  as  it  was  called,  was  thereby  rescued  from 
any  dependence  on  God.  When,  then,  an  event  was  called  natural, 
it  had  no  meaning  or  significarice.  Xaturalism  of  this  sort  is 
completely  out  of  date  in  intclligen-t  circles,  and  in  its  place  we 
have  the  conception  of  a  Divine  Imnmnencc  in  the  world  and  life 
and  history.  In  crude  thought  this  immanence  takes  the  form  of 
a  species  of  a  deterministic  pantheism  which  is  altogether  im])ossi- 
ble,  but  in  more  eidightencd  thought  it  becomes  idealistic  theism,  or 
the  immanence  taught  by  Saint  Paul  wlien  he  declares  that  in  God 
we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being,  and  that  it  is  God  who 
worketh  in  us  both  to  will  and  to  Avork  of  his  good  pleasure. 

This  view  is  fast  changing  the  old  debate  over  miracles  and 
the  supernatural.  It  is  novv  permitted  to  find  God  in  liistory  and 
in  the  natural  order  as  well  as  in  sigiis  and  wonders  or  strange  and 
anomalous  things.  But  an  event  is  no  longer  undivine  because 
it  is  also  natural.  We  may  seek  to  trace  the  order  of  life  in  the 
ongoings  of  life  and  history  as  we  trace  the  same  order  in  the 
ongoings  of  the  physical  world ;  but  this  order  in  no  way  removes 
God  or  puts  him  farther  away  from  us.  The  divine  revelation 
in  the  largest  sense  now  becomes  an  interpretation  of  history  itself, 
and  from  this  point  of  view  it  is  permitted  to  find  in  the  history 


jyiO]  Jesua  or  Christ  ?  193 

of  tlio  Christian  Church  and  in  the  great  trend  of  the  Christian 
iiiovi'ment  an  exegesis  of  \That  the  earlier  revelation  through  the 
i.rophcts  and  through  the  Divine  Son  meant.  As  creation  is  still 
^^.ing  on  in  nature,  being  but  the  continuous  procession  of  the 
(jiviiic  will,  so  revelation  is  still  going  on  in  the  minds  of  men; 
dud  is  revealing  himself  more  and  more  through  his  Spirit  and 
thiough  the  life  which  he  inspires.  In  some  sense  the  older  reve- 
lation continues,  and  in  some  sense  it  is  ever  being  outgrown.  It 
continues  through  its  growth,  as  all  organic  growth  continues,  not 
in  a  changeless  sameness  but  in  endless  self-revealing  of  its  spirit 
and  in  new  adaptations  to  new  conditions.  It  is  outgrown  in  the 
sense  of  the  larger  conceptions  which  are  always  arising  through 
the  increasing  depth  and  richness  of  the  spiritual  life  in  its 
historical  unfolding.  And  this  we  believe  is  the  view  to  which 
the  church  will  eventually  come.  We  shall  no  longer  be  unduly 
concerned  about  signs  and  wonders,  and  we  shall  no  longer  hold 
tliat  God  has  been  banished  from  the  world  by  the  order  he  has 
established  and  maintains  in  it.  With  this  conception  Christianity 
can  remain  true  to  type  and  at  the  same  time  progress  along  the 
line  of  the  orthodox  faith,  the  faith  in  God,  the  Father  Almighty, 
and  in  his  Son  our  Lord,  and  in  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  in  the  for- 
giveness of  sins,  and  in  the  life  everlasting.  The  antithesis  of 
Jesiis  or  Christ  we  set  aside,  and  we  rather  say  Jesus  the  Christ, 
the  Anointed  and  Sent  of  God.  This  faith  will  never  be  outgrovvoi, 
not  even  by  "the  religion  of  the  future."  It  is  too  deeply  rooted 
in  history  and  the  needs  of  the  human  soul. 

(/'()'^-vcU^t^    f*(iAyf..e^    y^rru/i'XJi^ 


194:  Methodist  lieview  [March 


Aet.  II.— TnEOLOGY  AND  THE  HISTORICAL 
METHOD 

It  is  not  tliis  paper's  purpose  to  enter  iuto  ii  defense  of  the 
historical  njetbod  or  its  place  in  theology.  The  question  of  it.s 
value  and  its  full  right  in  the  Christian  Church  is  a  settled  prob- 
lem. It  is  linked  with  the  surest  progress  of  our  intellectual  life. 
It  has  the  respect  for  facts  which  marks  the  scientific  spirit,  the 
age  of  realism,  as  against  the  age  of  speculation.  It  bidngs  out 
the  modern  sense  of  individualism.  It  gives  expression  to  the  idea 
of  development,  which  in  some  form  is  inseparable  from  our 
thought  to-daj.  It  has  magnified  the  personal  and  spiritual  as 
against  the  mechanical  and  external.  It  has  enforced  upon  syste- 
matical theology  a  respect  for  the  actual  and  has  made  it  more 
biblical.  It  has  aided  the  appreciation  of  the  real  meaniiig  of 
Christianity  by  lifting  above  the  dull  level  of  the  letter  the  moun- 
tain peaks  of  prophetism  in  the  Old  Testament  and  of  gospel  in 
the  New,  and  it  has  rendered  its  greatest  service,  I  believe,  at  tb.e 
very  place  where  it  awakened  the  greatest  fear.  Men  feared  that 
with  the  authority  of  the  infallible  letter  all  authority  was  gone. 
We  are  learning  to  know  better  what  the  nature  of  religious  author- 
ity is,  and  that  wcvmay  have  an  authority  which  is  objective  with- 
out being  external,  Avhich  is  historical  and  yet  personal  and  vital. 
Our  question  is  not  as  to  the  right  or  value  of  the  method,  but  as  to 
its  final  meaning  for  theology.  The  question  is  not  merely  specu- 
lative. It  is  a  present  problem  that  we  are  facing.  There  is  a 
vigorous  school  of  historical  study  Avhich  declares  that  the  real 
effect  of  the  historical  method  is  to  rule  out  all  other  theology. 
There  is  to  be  only  one  theological  science,  the  historical.  Tlio 
historical  method  is  to  stand  not  only  superior  but  sole,  like  the 
method  of  observation  and  experiment  in  natural  science.  Kothiug 
else  in  theology  is  to  bear  the  name  of  science.  And  now,  in  the 
name  of  this  supreme  science,  the  superiuitural  is  ruled  out,  not 
as  a  conclusion,  but  as  a  premise,  and  the  whole  movement  make- 
for  an  interpretation  of  Christianity  as  a  philosophical  idealism, 
against  its  conception  as  a  positive  historical  revelation   and   a 


j{)]()]  Theology  and  ihe  Ilislorical  Method  195 

divine  rcdeuiption.     Here  is  our  issue:  Have  wc  adopted  a  Dew 
conception  of  Christianity  bj  taking  the  historical  method? 

In  order  to  make  a  difficult  task  simpler  and  more  co7icrete  it 
will  bo  well  to  link  this  discussion  with  a  particular  group,  the 
so-called  religio-historical  school,  which  includes  some  of  the  ablest 
critical  scholars.  While  quite  indepeiidcnt  in  their  conclusions, 
tliey  represent  the  same  method  and  point  of  view.  Of  this  funda- 
mental agreement  they  are  conscious.  They  realize,  too,  that  they 
stand  not  only  for  the  method  but  for  the  new  interpretation  of 
Christianity.  They  not  only  believe  in  this  new  conception,  but 
they  feel  that  it  will  win  back  the  people  alienated  by  the  old  doc- 
tri)ies,  and  so  they  have  begun  a  vigorous  propaganda  by  means 
of  popular  books  and  pamphlets.  The  movement  is  represented 
in  a  measure  both  in  England  and  America,  and  its  influence  will 
1)0  more  fully  felt  in  the  future.  The  more  thorough  and  clear 
expression  among  the  German  thinkers,  however,  justifies  their 
being  made  the  basis  of  our  study.  The  religio-historical  school 
jnay  be  considered  an  outgrowth  of  the  Ritschlian  movement, 
though  this  is  true  of  but  part  of  its  adherents.  In  Ritschl's  the- 
ology there  was  a  double  element.  Its  positive  element  was  his 
ciupliasis  on  history  and  revelation.  Its  rationalistic  element  lay 
in  his  abstract  conception  of  religion.  These  two  elem.ents  have 
lieen  apparciit  in  the*  subsequent  movement.  Men  like  Kaftan, 
Kcischle,  Haering,  emphasized  the  idea  of  revelation  centering  in 
Christ,  and  set  forth  in  varying  manner  the  positive  content  of 
Christianity  and  evangelical  truth  as  given  in  this  revelation.  The 
left  wing  started  with  the  general  idea  of  religion.  Wo  must 
study  not  a  dogmatic  revelation  but  religion,  and  religion  wher- 
••ver  it  is  found.  Christianity  cannot  be  separated  from  all  other 
iiistory.  As  historical,  it  is  part  of  the  gi-eater  whole  of  human 
iiappcning.  As  religion,  it  is  simply  the  flower  and  consummation 
<u  tlie  movement  of  religion  which  is  as  broad  as  human  life.  By 
this  road  they  came  to  a  confluence  with  the  stream  of  influence 
^vhieli  still  flows  from  Hegel.  In  this  new  group,  which  cannot 
i"'>w  be  called  Ritschlian,  we  find  men  like  Gunkel,  Bous=et, 
i  roeltsch,  Heitmueller,  Wernle,  Weincl,  and  Wrede.  Anticipating 
^nt'in  in   part  was  Pfleiderer,  Hegelianistic  in  his  theology  and 


196  Methodist  Review  [March 

vigorous  opponent  of  Eitscbl.  The  leader  of  this  school  is 
Troeltsch,  of  Heidelberg,  one  of  the  most  brilliant  of  German 
theologians  to-day.  Because  Trocltsch  as  Dogmatiker  has  dis- 
cussed these  questions  systematically  we  shall  refer  particuhu-ly 
to  his  work.  Troeltsch  declares  truly  that  our  general  theological 
situation  to-da}''  is  not  a  matter  of  single  problems  but  that  of  the 
historical  method  and  its  meaning.  There  are  two  methods  in 
theology,  he  holds.  The  old  method  is  the  dogmatic.  It  is  really 
the,  method  of  Catholicism.  It  attempts  to  find  an  absolute  au- 
thority for  faith.  Protestantism  foi-merly  found  this  in  the  letter 
of  the  Scripture.  oSTow  it  seeks  it  in  a  supernatural  history,  which 
is  different  from  all  other  history.  This  history  is  conceived  as 
an  absolute  revelation,  and  this  revelation  is  set  up  as  authority. 
The  whole  is  regarded  under  the  idea  of  a  redemption  which  is 
worked  from  without.  This  position,  says  Troclt?ch,  is  impossi- 
ble for  anyone  who  accepts  the  historical  method.  History  must 
criticise,  it  can  never  give  you  absolute  certainty.  History  sees 
everything  in  relations.  You  cannot  pick  out  some  fact  or  fraction 
of  history  and  give  it  absolute  value.  Every  such  part  belongs  to 
a  larger  whole,  is  dependent  upon  it,  inseparable  from  it.  The 
dogmatic  method  is  an  impossible  attempt  to  rise  above  the  limi- 
tations of  history,  out  of  the  one  great  stream  of  history  to  separate 
some  single  current  and  give  it  a  supernatural  source  and  an 
absolute  value.  Instead  of  this,  as  historians  we  must  study 
religion  as  we  find  it  everywhere  among  men,  ar.d  Christianity 
as  part  of  the  larger  whole,  that  we  may  find  at  last,  as  the  fruit 
of  this  universal  movement  of  the  human  spirit,  the  ideals  and 
values  in  which  we  are  to  believe.  Thus  far  Troeltsch.  Here,  then, 
is  the  position.  It  appears  that  the  exclusion  of  the  supernatural, 
the  opposition  to  the  idea  of  a  positive  revelation  and  of  Christi- 
anity as  a  divine  redemption,  the  hostility  to  a  Pauline  Christi- 
anity, is  not  a  matter  of  detailed  results  of  historical  study,  as 
60  often  announced.  It  is  involved  essentially  for  this  school  in 
the  very  principles  of  the  historical  method.  It  is  assumed  as  a 
starting  point.  Our  task  is  set  for  us  by  this  position.  It  is  not 
enough  for  us  to  fight  critical  problems  one  at  a  time.  We  must 
ask  these  deeper  questions:  What  aro  the  true  prijiciples  of  the 


\'jiO]  Theology  and  the  Historical  Method  197 

hi.-^torical  method?  Do  they  involve  these  conclusions?  Is  the 
bi.storical  method  to  he  sole  and  final?  Professor  Troeltsch 
declares  that  the  three  principles  of  the  historical  method  are 
those  of  criticism,  analogy,  and  correlation.  Let  us  consider  these 
three  principles. 

The  principle  of  criticism  means  that  it  is  the  business  of  the 
historian  to  test  every  source  and  every  authority.  We  can  under- 
stand the  significance  of  this  and  admit  its  right.  It  is  true  of 
every  historical  document,  as  Professor  Gardner  has  put  it,  that 
"In  place  of  external  fact  of  history,  we  have  in  the  last  resort 
psychological  fact  as  to  what  was  believed  to  have  taken  place. 
To  pass  from  the  psychologic  to  the  external  fact  is  pre- 
cisely the  task  which  modern  historians  find  set  before  them." 
Protestantism  has  no  absolute  external  authority  which  it  tries 
to  remove  from  such  criticism.  It  will  not  accept  the  authority 
of  Pope,  or  council,  or  church,  nor  does  it  set  up  the  Scriptures  in 
ibis  sense  as  a  fixed,  external  standard.  That  would  involve  not 
I  inly  external  and  mechanical  inspiration,  but  would  demand  au- 
thority for  interpretation  (the  church)  and  a  supernaturally  fixed 
'  niion.  The  report  of  the  late  Papal  Commission  on  Genesis 
indicates  what  such  a  position  involves.  The  Scriptures  are  his- 
torical writings.  We  believe  they  contain  the  record  of  God's 
revelation,  but  we  must  scrutinize  and  compare  and  criticise,  and 
the  more  earnestly  and  honestly  because  of  Avhat  is  at  stake  for 
lis.  But  the  principle  of  criticism  means  something  more  for  this 
>cbool.  It  means  that  no  fact  of  the  past  can  bo  absolutely  estab- 
lished, and  that  therefore  the  historical  can  never  be  the  basis  of 
^"hristian  certainty  or  yield  an  authority  for  Christian  faith. 
J ')  this  larger  question  of  the  relation  of  faith  and  history  we 
"Hist  turn  later.  So  much  can  be  said  here :  What  is  really 
involved  is  not  the  divorce  of  history  and  faith,  but  the  limits 
of  liistorical  science,  which  can  no  more  ground  our  faith  than 
^^n  any  other  science.  More  and  more  clearly  we  see  that, 
'JiouLdi  Jesus  of  ]^a/areth  is  the  gTcat  Personage  of  history,  the 
Aew  Testament  writers  are  not  primarily  historians.  The  Gos- 
]>cls.  arc  proclamations  of  faith,  Hkf  the  rest  of  thr-  !N"ew  Testament; 
'f  IS  the  preaching  of  the  early  church.     That  preaching  does  not 


198  Methodist  Review  [March 

come  with  historical  proof  or  scientific  certainty,  but  it  can  do 
for  men  to-day  what  it  did  then.  The  living  God  still  speaks  to 
us  through  these  words,  and  as  in  the  first  generation,  with  the 
living  word  spoken  by  the  first  disciples,  it  can  still  convince 
the  open  heart  that  in  that  history  the  Eternal  came  among  men. 
The  second  principle  which  Troeltsch  suggests  is  that  of  analogy. 
We  understand  the  past  because  that  which  happened  there  is 
analogous  to  that  which  was  happening  elsewhere  and  which 
happens  now.  It  is  the  task  of  the  historian,  realizing  this,  to 
understand  the  past  from  within,  sympathetically  to  appreciate 
and  live  it  over.  Nor  do  we  exclude  Scriptural  history  from  this 
principle.  Is  it  not  the  heart  of  our  faith  that  the  final  revelation 
of  God  was  in  One  who  came  '"'in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh"  ?  It 
is  because  he  is  Son  of  man  that  the  sons  of  men  can  understand 
him;  he  can  speak  to  them.  Here  is  Paul,  with  his  unique-^r- 
sonality  and  his  marvelous  experience.  His  judges  thought  him 
mad,  and  he  once  called  himself  a  fool.  But  we  have  learned 
Ckr-ist  ourselves  and  we  know  the  rich  meaning  and  the  deep 
reasonableness  of  that  life.  The  analog)'  of  our  own  experience, 
though  it  may  not  measure  with  his,  gives  the  key  for  its  imder- 
standing.  It  is  in  this  sense,  that  of  the  appreciation  from  within, 
that  the  historian  must  make  psychology  fundamental  for  his  work. 
But  the  principle  of  analogy  as  used  by  this  school  means  some- 
thing very  different.  Troeltsch  speaks  of  the  "om^nipotence  of 
analogy"  which  "involves  the  similarity  in  principle  of  all  his- 
torical occurrence."  What  we  have  here  is  not  the  analogy  which 
helps  us  to  understand  the  past,  but  the  analogy  which  determines 
what  the  past  could  have  been.  It  is  not  a  key  but  a  norm,  a  law. 
It  is  evidently  the  idea  of  the  uniformity  of  nature  that  comes 
into  play  here.  The  religious  nature  of  man  is  everywhere  and 
always  the  same,  and  will  always  manifest  itself  in  the  same  man- 
ner. These  laws  of  the  religious  life,  or  analogies,  the  historian 
must  trace  out,  and  this  will  determine  his  interpretation  of  other 
religions.  The  writings  of  this  school  arc  full  of  this  u=p  of 
analogy.  It  is  applied  ^vith  a  wealth  of  learning  and  the  greatest 
industry.  .Its  purpose  is  generally  the  same:  to  bring  do^vn  the 
higher  to  the  level  of  the  lower,  to  use  the  primitive  in  order  to 


1910]  Theology  and  the  Historical  Method  199 

determine  what  the  advanced  must  be.  It  is  applied  in  two 
directions,  which  may  be  considered  separately.  The  first  has 
reo-ard  to  those  forms  and  ideas  in  which  religion  expresses  itself. 
It  is  refreshing  to  hear  these  men  protest  against  superrefined 
literary  criticism  and  the  overemphasized  study  of  the  doctrinal 
or  intellectual  side.  The  first  business  of  the  theologian,  they 
declare,  is  the  study  of  religion.  Unfortunately,  their  conception 
of  religion  neutralizes  this  advantage.  Religion  appears  as  a  sort 
of  native  force  with  which  men  are  endowed,  and  which  has  its 
own  natural  laws  of  development  by  which  it  comes  to  expression 
everywhere  in  the  same  forms  of  cultus,  the  same  myths  and  ideas. 
iN'ominally,  they  admit  the  supernatural  element.  Indeed,  they 
reproach  us  with  narrowness  in  limiting  this  to  one  religion.  In 
reality,  however,  religion  is  not  God  disclosing  himself  to  man 
and  lifting  man  into  the  fellowship  of  holiness,  but  the  evolution 
of  a  native  force  working  out  according  to  its  own  necessary  laws. 
\Ye  can  understand  now  how  the  principle  of  analogy  is  applied. 
We  know  how  it  has  been  used  where  men  juggled  with  the  phrase 
of  evolution.  The  highest  religions  are  explained  by  the  primitive 
in  which  they  find  their  source,  and  the  primitive  forms,  in  turn, 
give  us  the  rule  for  interpreting  the  higher.  Thus  Troeltsch 
declares  that  "the  primitive  religions  give  the  foundation  and 
the  means  of  explanation  for  all  the  more  complex  forms,  forming 
the  fruitful  womb  for  all  new  religious  forms  and  the  substratum 
which  persists  under  all  higher  religions."  Heitmueller's  mono- 
graph on  the  phrase  "In  Jesus's  iSTame"  is  a  typical  illustration. 
From  every  source  of  primitive  faith  and  superstitious  practice 
he  brings  together  the  illustrations  of  the  belief  in  the  magical 
power  of  the  name  and  its  use  in  incantation  and  prayer.  The 
heaping  up  of  these  analogies  is  to  prove  that  we  have  in  the 
Christian  phrase  such  a  magical  survival.  In  the  same  way  this 
writer  takes  up  the  question  of  Paul's  view  of  the  sacraments. 
Primitive  religion  is  full  of  its  sacrificial  meals.  Christianity  has 
the  same  in  the  Lord's  Supper.  The  lower  must  again  explain 
the  higher,  and  the  principle  of  analogy  must  serve  to  prove 
'  identity.  And  so  Ilcitmueller  proves  that  for  Paul  the  sacraments 
have   u   magical   efficacv   which  lies   in    the   form    or    act    itself. 


200  Methodist  Review  [Marcb 

Gunkel's  work  on  the  T{eligio-Historical  Interpretation  of  the  New 
Testament  gives  illustration  for  the  great  events  of  the  life  of 
Christ,  lie  searches  ont  the  analogies  in  other  religions  for  the 
stories  of  infancy,  for  baptism  and  temptation,  transfiguration  and 
resurrection,  as  well  as  for  many  other  ideas  in  the  Is^cv,'  Testa- 
ment. There  may  not  be  a  single  instance  in  v.hich  he  has  a 
case  strong  enough  to  stand  alone,  but  the  heaping  np  of  these 
analogies  is  meant  to  convey  the  same  general  idea:  the  primitive 
is  the  source  of  the  later,  and  the  lower  must  be  used  to  teach  us 
what  the  higher  means. 

With  all  the  show  of  learning  there  is  something  very  super- 
ficial in  this  study  of  j>hrases  and  forms.  The  mere  language  of 
religion,  whether  in  phrase  or  form  of  cultus,  shows  a  marvelous 
persistence,  but  the  heart  of  religion  is  in  the  new  spirit,  which 
may  speak  the  speech  of  other  days,  but  which  fills  these  words 
with  new  meaning.  Cremer's  great  work  on  Xew  Testament 
Greek  still  justifies  its  main  purpose  by  showing  how  the  new 
faith  transformed  the  old  speech  which  became  its  chief  organ. 
Love  can  never  again  meau  what  it  did  before  Christ  lifted  that 
word  from  sensuality  aud  passion,  or  from  mere  natural  inclina- 
tion, and  made  it  the  symbol  of  the  greatest  moral  power  on  earth 
and  the  revelation  of  the  heart  of  God.  We  interpret  Paul  not  by 
looking  back  to  pagan  customs,  but  by  looking  at  that  new  faith 
and  spirit  to  which  he  gave  classical  expression.  And  Paul  stands 
not  merely  for  the  doctrine  of  grace,  but  for  the  g-reat  truth  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  in  man  means  a  new  moral  and  spiritual  life. 
Fellowship  with  God  is  moral,  and  a  moral  fellowship  cannot  come 
from  a  magical  rite.  The  same  issue  appears  when  it  comes  to 
the  application  of  this  principle  of  analogy  to  the  study  of  great 
personalities.  History  must  be  psychological,  we  are  told,  in 
order  to  be  scientific.  But  what  does  that  mean  ?  Does  it  mean  the 
sympathetic  attempt  to  enter  into  the  inner  life  of  great  men  in 
order  to  appreciate  them?  Then  it  is  true,  but  it  is  not  new. 
Does  this  refer  to  modern  psychology,  naturalistic,  studying  the 
itmer  life  only  so  far  as  it  illustrates  general  laws  whir-li  are  every- 
where the  same?  ThcTi  it  is  useless  or  misleading.  IIow  shall  we 
do  justice  to  Paid  if  we  insist  that  his  e.\i>eriences  must  conform 


1910]  Theology  and  the  Hislorical  Method  201 

to  the  common  modes  of  man's  life?  And  what  shall  we  say  of 
Jesus?  But  this  is  exactly  what  is  attempted.  3'his  is  assumed 
as  a  principle  of  seientiiic  history.  I  know  that  you  can  pick  out 
the  declarations  here  and  there  with  these  writers  concerning  the 
ultimate  mystery  of  every  personality.  But  in  actual  historical 
treatment  this  mystery  does  not  enter  in.  If  there  is  any  place 
where  the  mystery  appears  in  the  life  of  Paul  it  is  in  his  vision 
and  conversion.  But  scientific  history  demands  that  Paul's  expe- 
rience here  must  be  in  analogy  with  the  common  experience  of  men, 
aud  so  the  gi-eat  event  is  finally  reduced  to  an  epileptic  seizure  and 
hallucination.  Most  of  the  so-called  lives  of  Jesus  are  examples 
in  point.  The  New  Testament  gives  us  a  Person,  not  a  history, 
least  of  all  any  basis  for  working  out  a  psychological  development 
of  Jesus's  inner  life.  A  striking  illustration  of  this  position  is 
seen  in  the  critical  treatment  of  the  great  passage  of  Matt.  11.  27  : 
"No  one  knowetlj  the  Son,  save  the  Father;  neither  doth  any  know 
the  Father,  save  the  Son,  and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  willcth  to 
reveal  him."  Pileiderer  declares  that  Jesus  did  not  speak  these 
words,  that  he  could  not  have  spoken  them.  Certainly,  if  the 
principle  of  analogy  means  that  the  experience  of  Jesus  could  not 
transcend  that  of  common  man,  Pfleiderer's  position  holds,  for  vre 
know  of  no  other,  human  consciousness  which  could  have,  given 
exj>ression  to  that  thought.  All  this  is  simply  the  effort  at  a 
naturalistic  scheuic  of  things,  which  can  conceive  no  history  with- 
out its  general  laws  of  happening,  to  which  all  things  must  be 
leveled  down.  Is  not  all  this  a  misconception  of  what  history  means 
and  of  what  historical  studies  should  be?  The  rationality  of 
natural  science  rests  upon  the  power  to  reduce  events  to  gei^.ei-al 
laws.  If  you  do  that  with  history  there  is  nothing  left.  Science 
has  no  place  for  the  individual,  history  lives  upon  it.  The  scientist 
must  leave  the  individual  aside.  The  plant  interests  him,  not  as 
an  individual  plant,  but  as  one  of  the  species.  Even  a  chance 
peculiarity  would  concern  him  only  as  it  illustrated  a  general  lav,-. 
I  he  historian  considers  not  what  is  the  same,  but  what  is  different, 
not  that  which  sim])ly  reT)eats,  but  that  which  happens  once.  It 
IS  the  individual  with  which  he  deals,  the  individual  in  the  realm 
of  por.sonality.     He  may  be  a  detcrminist,  but  as  a  historian  ho 


202  Methodist  Review  [ilarcli 

must  work  on  the  principle  that  nieu  make  history.  The  modern 
historical  school  under  the  influence  of  the  ideas  of  natural  science 
is  misusing  the  principle  of  analogy  in  the  search  for  general  laws. 
It  is  failing  in  its  first  ia^Vi,  the  study  of  the  individual  and  the 
appreciation  of  those  personalities  who  make  history  and  who  are 
more  than  illustrations  of  general  laws.  It  has  so  overemphasized 
the  idea  of  coiitinuity  in  history  as  to  change  it  to  the  principle 
of  identity.  It  has  failed  to  see  that  the  meaning  of  human  history 
is  in  the  forward  look  and  the  forward  step,  and  not  the  ceaseless 
roimd  in  which  nature  repeats  itself. 

We  turn  now  to  the  third  priiiciplc,  that  of  correlation.  It  is 
inseparahle  from  our  modern  idea  of  what  history  implies.  The 
interest  of  history  is  in  the  individual,  but  the  individual  is  never 
alone.  You  can  draw^  no  lines  in  history  to  separate  one  part  from 
the  rest.  The  man  is  linked  to  his  age,  the  age  is  joined  to  what  has 
gone  before,  the  single  nation  is  part  of  a  larger  whole.  Nor  can 
we  isolate  one  section  of  history  and  call  it  sacred  and  study  it 
simply  by  itself.  Israel  had  its  environment  in  the  stream  of 
history,  and  that  environment  was  religious  as  well  as  social  and 
political.  The  humanity  of  Jesus  means  something  more  than 
an  abstract  doctrine  of  two  natures.  He  was  a  Child  of  a  given 
race,  instructed  in  its  religion  and  speaking  its  language,  and  he 
lived  in  a  given  age.  How  much  that  special  age,  with  its  social, 
political,  and  religions  influences,  meant  for  the  beginnings  of 
Christianity  we  have  not  yet  measured.  Christianity  is  historical, 
and  things  historical  are  things  which  are  in  specific  relation? 
and  must  be  studied  in  those  relations.  In  all  this  there  is 
nothing  new,  nor  is  llicre  anything  here  to  conflict  with  the 
Christian  idea  of  revelation  or  redemption.  That  idea  docs  not 
exclude  God  from  other  than  Christian  history,  or  imply  that 
lie  was  not  speaking  to  other  men  or  nations.  Yic  do  believe 
that  God  was  working  out  special  purposes  for  all  men  through 
this  special  line  of  histoiv.  and  we  hold  that  he  found  here  a 
special  organ  for  his  self-disclosure,  and  that  in  the  fullness 
of  time  the  work  was  wrought  and  the  full  disclosure  made  in 
Jesus  Christ.  I  know  how  m.any  minds  there  are  Avho  arc  fearful 
that  God  is  absent  because  man  is  present.     But  we  have  learned 


I<)i0]  Theology  arid  the  Historical  Method  203 

thai  tbe  liuman  and  the  divine  do  not  exclude  each  other,  that  we 
,lo  Jiot  need  to  say  impossible  things  about  the  Scriptures  to  save 
them  as  the  Word  of  God.  If  once  we  have  seen  that  clearly,  we 
.-hnll  not  be  concerned  about  the  relations  of  Babel  and  Lible. 
\Vv  need  not  bo  troubled  by  old  cosmogonies  in  Genesis  or  cui-rent 
aixx-alyptic  ideas  in  Eevelation,  nor  when  the  religious  influences 
uf  the  age  come  closer  to  the  heart  of  the  Xew  Testament.  The 
revelation  in  Christianity  is  historical,  and  historical  revelation 
men  OS  a  revelation  conditioned  not  only  by  the  human  factor  in 
its  immediate  agents  but  by  its  whole  environment.  Our  question 
lies  deeper.  Is  God  really  present  in  this  history — acting,  direct- 
ing, self-revealing?  Is  he  not  only  in  this  history  but  more  than 
this  history?  Or  is  the  divine  here  simply  the  sum  of  human 
forces,  everywhere  the  same  and  everywhere  pressing  on  in  the  same 
blind  fa.-hion  ?  It  is  the  question  of  the  real  personality  of  God 
and  of  his  transcender.ee. 

It  is  this  truth  which  does  not  come  to  its  own  in  this  modern 
iiislorical  school.  Like  the  principle  of  analogy,  the  principle  of 
correlation  seems  to  be  conceived  on  the  naturalistic  order.  It 
corresponds  to  the  principle  of  the  conservation  of  energy  and 
correlation  of  forces.  Troeltsch  speaks  of  the  "  mutual  interac- 
tion of  all  phenomena  of  the  historical-spiritual  life,  so  that  no 
chfmge  can  occur  at  any  point  without  preceding  and  succeeding 
eliange  at  some  other,  so  that  all  occurrence  .  .  .  must  form  one 
stream  in  which  all  and  each  belong  together."  Whnt  this  means 
i'^  mado  more  clear  by  Troeltsch's  protest  against  v,-hat  he  calls  the 
<l\irniatic  method.  Wliat  is  the  sin  of  the  dogmatic  position?  It 
li^'lds  to  the  supernatural  as  a  real  and  determining  factor  in 
I'l.-tory.  It  mal:es  the  historical  method  impossible.  Now,  there 
is  only  one  history  which  the  dogmatic  method  can  make  impossi- 
I'le.  It  is  a  history  where  all  things  are  joined  together  in  a  strict 
causal  connection,  and  where  all  development  proceeds  from  a 
Fclf-s-nfTicient  unity  of  immanent  forces.  The  principle  has  bnen 
very  rl(>arly  expressed  by  the  historian  Von  Sybel :  ''The  certainty 
<^'f  knowledge  stands  or  falls  with  this  presupposition,  that  there 
H  an  a]>«(>lnte  development  according  to  law,  the  common  unity  of 
••^i-ting  things.     If  it  were  not  for  this,  or  if  this  could  be  inter- 


204  Methodist  Review  [March 

rupted  in  any  "way,  then  all  certainty  of  conclusion  and  all  connec- 
tion of  events  would  be  surrendered,  and  all  calculations  as  to 
human  beings  would  be  given  up  to  chance.  The  two  sources  of 
historical  knowledge  would  be  overwhelmed."  I  do  not  mean  to 
say  that  this  historical  school  stands  for  naturalism,  for  a  merely 
causal  explanation  in  history.  I  wish  simply  to  make  plain  that 
their  protest  against  the  supernatural  is  consistent  only  from  this 
standpoint.  The  historian,  as  such,  has  no  right  to  protest  against 
the  supernatural-  It  is  one  thing  to  study  events  in  their  rela- 
tions. That  is  his  task.  It  is  another  to  declare  that  they  are 
causally  determined  by  those  relations.  That  is  not  history  but 
dogmatism,  the  popular  philosophy  of  a  naturalistic  or  panthe- 
istic evolution.  It  is  not  implied  in  the  historical  method.  No 
mastery  of  method,  no  perfection  of  historical  knowledge,  could 
ever  have  enabled  the  student  to  put  his  finger  on  the  point  where 
the  tides  of  influence  converged  and  say,  ''Here  a  Paul,"  "Here  a 
Jesus  of  Nazareth."  The  causal  explanation  of  history  implies  the 
possibility  of  such  prediction,  and  such  prediction  is  an  absurdity. 
"History  depends  upon  the  men  who  will  make  it."  Correlation, 
then,  does  not  mean  causal  dependency.  It  is  true  that  naturalistic 
science,  as  such,  cannot  consider  the  miracle.  But  historical 
science  has  no  right  to  suppress  cither  the  significance  of  human 
personality  or  that  direct  play  of  divine  personality  which  we  call 
the  supernatural. 

In  the  actual  work  of  criticism  we  constantly  meet  illustra- 
tions of  the  position  which  has  been  opposed  above.  History  seems 
to  be  a  sort  of  a  rearrangement  of  ultimate  elements  which  them- 
selves remain  constant.  In  the  introduction,  sometime?,  or  the 
appendix  of  these  works  Ave  have  an  appreciation  of  personality, 
its  mystery,  its  originality.  In  actual  operation  the  business  of 
history  seems  to  be  to  point  out  that  cause  equals  effect ;  the  age, 
the  institution,  the  man,  is  the  sum  of  that  wbich  surrounds  or 
goes  before.  The  suppression  of  the  sijrnificance  of  human  person- 
ality goes  hand  in  hand  with  the  elimination  of  the  supernatural, 
of  the  direct  movement  of  the  divine  personality.  In  many  ways 
the  great  dividing  question  in  theology  to-day  is  the  question  of 
the  relation  of  Jesus  and  Paul.     The  weakness  of  this  method. 


1910]  Theology  and  the  Historical  Method  205 

whicli  looks  at  external  causes  rather  than  personal  forces,  at  the 
old  that  remains  rather  than  at  the  new  and  its  meaning,  is  well 
illustrated  in  the  treatment  of  these  problems.  Here  is  the  question 
of  the  Person  of  Christ,  the  early  church's  faith  in  his  r«urrection, 
his  work  as  a  Saviour  of  men,  his  divine  Sonship.  What  shall 
explain  this  ?  Is  it  not  Jesus  himself,  and  what  he  wrought  for 
those  disciples  ?  Xo.  The  men  who  were  sounding  the  praises  of 
Jesus  a  moment  ago  are  now  searching  Judaism  or  Oriental  re- 
ligions for  analogies  to  explain  the  church's  Christology.  Listen 
to  Gunkel  explaining  the  faith  in  the  resurrection:  We  know, 
from  the  comparative  study  of  religions,  of  divine  beings  who 
died  and  rose  again.  It  is  true,  we  cannot  find  any  such  idea  in 
official  Judaism,  "but  there  is  nothing  to  oppose  the  assumption 
that  this  existed  in  certain  secret  circles,"  The  idea  must  have 
come  to  the  disciples  indirectly  from  paganism  through  Judaism. 
That  the  resurrection  occurred  on  Easter  Sunday  at  the  rising  of 
the  sun  points  to  the  Oriental  celebration  of  the  day,  the  turning 
from  winter  to  summer  in  the  Babylonian  religion.  Or  turn  to  the 
crux  of  the  problem,  Paul's  Christology.  Paul  does  not,  indeed, 
stand  alone  in  his  estimate  of  the  Person  of  Christ.  We  have  no 
sources  to  indicate  that  the  early  church  had  any  different  concep- 
tion,, and  we  know  that,  with  all  of  Paul's  conflicts,  on  this  point  ho 
was  never  accused  of  being  an  innovator.  But  Paul's  Christology 
has  given  expression  to  the  faith  of  nineteen  centuries.  The  modern 
historical  school  must  find  its  sources.  What  were  they?  "Paul's 
Christology,"  says  Wernle,  "does  not  come  from  the  impression  of 
Jesus  himself,  or  the  working  out  of  what  he  did  and  said.  It  is 
the  transfer  of  a  bold  speculation  to  the  historical  person  of  Jesus.'' 
Gunkel  finds  the  secret  of  iSTew  Testament  Christology  in  various 
ideas  which  had  been  attached  to  the  Judaistic  conception  of  the 
Afessiah  and  which  were  transferred  to  that  of  Jesus.  It  is  true,  as 
Gunkel  admits,  we  know  nothing  of  this  Judaistic  Christology. 
but,  he  calmly  adds,  "We  must  assume  it  in  order  to  understand 
the  New  Testament."  And  elsewhere  Wernle  uses  this  astounding 
word :  "Jesus  came  to  the  Greeks  in  the  form  of  a  dramatic  m}-th. 
Again  they  had  the  story  of  a  god,  and  from  the  most  recent  time. 
This  conquered  the  world." 


20G  Mcihodist  Bcvlcw  [March 

Let  me  point  out  two  marvelous  things  in  these  expressions. 
In  the  first  pLace,  it  is  a  most  remarkable  feat  of  putting  the  pyra- 
mid on  its  apex.  Wrede  insists  that  Paul  is  the  second  founder 
of  Christianity,  that  the  great  leaders  of  the  church,  from  the 
author  of  the  fourth  Gosp(!l  through  Athanasius  and  Augustine 
down  to  Luther  and  Calvin,  all  had  their  inspiration  from  him. 
And  yet  he  suggests  that  the  decisive  event  to  which  this  man 
traces  back  his  career  was  an  hallucination  joined  to  an  epileptic 
seizure.  These  writers  agree  that  the  heart  of  that  conception  of 
Christianity  which  has  dominated  these  ages  lies  in  Paul's  Christ- 
ology.  Wernle  calls  it  the  "myth  that  conquered  the  world."  But 
the  origin  of  this  Christology  is  not  that  matchless  personality 
which  dominated  those  disciples.  Gunkel  says  distinctly:  "The 
Christology  was  not  so  much  formed  to  sound  the  mystery  of  his 
person,  as  though  Jesus  were  primus  and  the  Christology  second; 
rather,  the  souls  which  longed  for  the  nearness  of  God,  which  had 
need  of  a  Son  of  God  appearing  from  heaven,  transferred  to  him 
these  ideals  of  their  hearts."  And  for  these  ideals,  for  the  forms 
of  this  faith,  Gunkel  must  invent  a  supposed  source  in  current 
Judaism  which  was  fed,  in  turn,  by  pagan  myths.  Od  such  a 
precarious  apex  the  whole  massive  pyramid  of  Christianity  is 
balanced,  that  Christianity  which  not  only  conquered  the  old 
world  but  which  was  never  more  aggTessive  than  to-day,  or  more 
dominant  over  the  thoughts  of  men:  a  longing  set  for  a  faith,  a 
myth  turned  into  a  creed,  an  hallucination  founding  a  theology, 
and  the  greatest  Person  of  history  misunderstood  and  displaced 
by  this  creation  of  his  ditciples.  All  this  suggests  the  second 
marvel  in  this  position,  the  failure  to  find  the  real  forces  that  make 
history.  The  one  factor  that  Christian  faith  sets  first  has  been 
l>ushed  aplde--the  living  presence  of  fliat  God  who  can  come  into 
personal  fellowship  with  men.  When  you  suppress  that  source 
you  cannot  rightly  evaluate  those  great  personalities,  like  Paul, 
who  found  here  the  spring  of  their  being  and  power  and  w^ho 
became  in  turn  the  creative  factors  for  new  movements  of  history. 
Too  few  of  these  historians  do  justice  to  Paul's  own  declaration, 
"For  me  to  live  is  Christ." 

Some  results  may  now  be  simimed  up  in  answer  to  the  ques- 


1010]  Theology  and  the  Historical  Method  207 

tioii,  "What  does  the  historical  method  imply  for  theology  ?  The 
principles  of  historical  study  do  not  rule  out  the  supei-natural. 
Only  a  naturalistic  scheme  of  mechanical  causation  could  imply 
that,  with  a  pantheistic  idea  of  a  kind  of  spiritual  conservalion  of 
oiergy  and  correlation  of  forces.  The  world  of  history  is  the 
personal  world.  Even  human  personality  will  break  through  such 
a  scheme.  The  law  of  the  personal  world  is  not  quantitative  equiv- 
alence, not  cause  equals  effect.  Its  mark  is  not  sameness,  but 
difference.  To  recognize  this  leaves  play  for  human  personality, 
but  equally  so  for  the  divine.  There  is  no  more  rationality  in 
the  exclusive  immanence  of  pantheistic  evolution  than  in  Christian 
theism.  The  rationality  of  natural  science  depends  upon  the 
tracing  out  of  general  laws  of  cause  and  effect.  The  rationality 
of  history  lies  in  the  great  ideal  achievements  which  mark  the 
goal  of  history's  movements,  and  in  tracing  these  back  to  adequate 
origins.  And  those  origins  are  never  apart  from  creative  per- 
sonalities who  are  themselves  inexplicable.  These  actual  forces 
of  history  mark  its  gTcat  tasks  and  its  limits.  To  these  the  new 
history  must  do  better  justice  than  it  yet  has  done.  One  point  we 
left  for  consideration — the  relation  of  history  and  faith.  By  its 
principle  of  criticism  this  school  denies  that  faith  can  find  a 
ground,  for  certaint}'  in  anything  historical.  By  its  principle  of 
relativism  it  refuses  to  see  anywhere  in  histor}''  the  absolute  as 
authority  for  faith.  Each  fact  is  but  part  of  a  larger  stream 
and  flows  out  of  it.  jSTowhere  can  you  say,  in  absolute  sense,  This 
is  the  finger  of  God.  And  yet  these  men  have  their  faith,  and  an 
aggressive  faith  too.  What  do  they  put  in  place  of  the  old  cer- 
tainty of  God's  direct  and  final  revelation  in  Christian  history? 
Briefly  stated,  it  is  an  evolutionary  idealism  of  a  pantheistic  trend. 
Troeltsch  has  outlined  it.  Instead  of  any  special  revelation,  we 
have  a  "Bcason  ruling  in  history  and  progressively  revealing 
itself."  Bevclation  becomes  practically  equivalent  to  man's  re- 
ligious intuitions.  History  shows  us  a  revelation  of  the  divine 
di-pths  of  the  human  spirit,  and  of  the  development  of  faith  "out 
of  its  own  consistent  character,  and  that  nieans  out  of  tlie  impelling 
power  of  God."  History  is  thus  the  "unfolding  of  the  divine 
Reason."    It  is  an  "ordered  succession,  in  which  the  central  depth 


208  Methodist  Beview  [March 

and  truth  of  the  spiritual  life  of  man  mounts  upward  out  of  the 
transcendent  Ground  of  the  Spirit,  in  the  midst  of  struggle  and 
error  of  every  kind,  hut  yet  with  the  logiciil  necessity  of  a  normally 
begun  dcvck>])inent."  This  is  simply  a  modified  Hegelian  ism,  a 
development  through  immanent  forces  accordijig  to  rational  neces- 
sity. You  may  say  the  necessity  is  grounded  in  the  World-Spirit, 
and  these  forces  are  God.  Then  you  have  a  religion.  But  there 
is  no  God  except  these  immanent  forces.  To  criticise  this  position 
is  not  a  part  of  our  subject.  But  we  may  note  three  points:  1. 
This  position  has  nothing  to  do  with  historical  science.  It  is  not 
a  scientific  conclusion  at  alL  It  is  a  leap  of  faith.  The  historian 
here  runs  into  the  doginatic  camp  which  he  has  been  fighting.  It 
does  not  change  the  situation  one  whit  to  speak  of  this  as  the 
modern  world  view,  or  as  recpiired  by  the  conclusions  of  modern 
science.  This  is  Ilegelianistic  philosophy.  It  is  simply  a  question 
of  one  faith  against  another.  2.  The  hard  facts  of  history  will  not 
sustain  the  easy  optimisui  of  this  Hegelian  evolution.  Who  can 
look  upon  this  tangle  of  human  history,  upon  its  darkness  and 
superstition,  upon  its  age-long  failures,  upon  the  wide  sweep  of 
paganism  to-day  in  distant  lands,  and  even  in  our  own,  and  then 
stake  his  faith  upon  a  philoso]ihy  which  sees  the  inherent  rational- 
ity of  it  all,  ''the  logical  necessity  of  a  normally  begun  develop- 
ment" ?  3.  This  position  has  illegitimately  influenced  the  his- 
torical method  of  many  scholars.  It  has  minimized  the  meaning  of 
personality,  agreeing  here  with  naturalism.  It  has  ruled  out  the 
supernatural,  that  is,  the  divine  Personality,  for  it  leaves  no  God 
but  the  sum  of  tho?e  immanent  forces  which  may  be  called  God 
or  man  as  you  will. 

We  come  back,  then,  to  our  question  of  history  and  faith. 
How  is  faith  to  find  certainty  if  we  still  tie  up  Christianity  with  a 
given  history  ?  We  answer  that  certainty  cannot  rest  either  upon 
philosophy  or  upon  historical  science.  Kant  made  plain  the  first- 
Historical  study,  on  the  other  side,  shows  us  that  there  may  be  no 
absolute  historical  certainty  on  which  faith  can  rest.  But  that 
does  not  mean  that  we  are  to  give  up  the  historical  Christ.  We 
have  to-day  what  the  first  generation  had  to  which  the  disciples 
preaclied.     We  bave  the  confession  of  faith  of  the  early  church. 


1 010]  Theology  and  tlic  Historical  Method  209 

Thc^e  men  did  not  labor  primarily  to  tell  the  ^vords  of  Jesus  or 
to  give  liis  biography.  Their  subject  was  not  a  history,  but  a 
gospel.  That  gospel  in  history  we  have  to-day.  ILark  every  point 
in  which  Matthew  differs  from  Luke,  or  Paul  and  John  stand 
o\er  against  the  s_Nnioptic5.  In  one  point  they  all  agi-ee,  that  Jesus 
is  Son  of  God  and  Saviour  of  men.  And  the  effort  scientifically 
to  go  back  of  this  gospel,  and  set  up  Jesus  himself  against  this 
estimate  of  the  faith  of  his  first  disciples,  has  signally  failed.  It 
cannot  scientifically  be  done.  In  other  words,  historical  criticism 
docs  not  rule  out  this  Christ  and  his  gospel  for  faith.  So  far  this 
means  simply  that  the  door  is  not  blocked  against  us.  "What  do 
Y.-e  find  when  we  enter?  If  we  look  with  open  and  willing  hearts, 
we  find  that  which  the  first  disciples  and  their  hearers  found,  that 
in  this  Man's  life  and  love  and  death  the  living  God  moved,  and 
that  in  him  the  living  God  speaks  and  comes  to  us  now.  Higher 
tlian  historical  certainty,  higher  than  human  philosophy,  above  any 
letter  of  sacred  page,  is  this  Spirit  of  the  living  God.  And  he 
must  speak  before  faith  and  certainty  can  be.  The  gospel  lives 
to-day  and  grouuds  our  faith  because  he  speaks  througli  it  still  as 
of  old.  Historical  criticism  has  taken  away  our  confidence  in  the 
letter,  it  has  not  shut  the  door  for  faith. 

There  has  been  much  written  of  late  of  the  religion  of  to- 
morrow^  With  the  note  of  the  social  and  the  humanitarian,  no 
one  need  contend.  They  belong  in  the  gospel.  But  Dr.  Eliot's 
religion,  like  that  we  have  been  considering,  is  deficient  in  two 
elements  that  belonged  to  the  religion  of  yesterday  and  that  will 
be  present  in  the  final  religion.  The  first  is  the  full  Christian  idea 
of  personality,  the  personality  of  God  first  of  all.  That  means 
more  than  a  scientific  conception  of  universal  energy,  or  an  om- 
nipotent good  nature  raised  to  the  throne  of  the  universe  by  a 
••^('Mti mental  religion.  Over  against  naturalism  and  pantheism  we 
iK^'ed  to  hold  this  truth  in  all  its  meaning.  It  means  a  living  God, 
M-ith  power  and  purpose  and  holiness.  It  means  the  supernatural, 
'"'t  ])rimarily  as  the  miraculous,  but  as  implied  in  the  Christian 
faith  in  the  living  God.  Immanent  in  history  as  in  nature,  he  is 
vi-t  more  than  the  sum  of  the  forces  resident  and  active  in  these, 
^li  that  lii.vtorv  he  makes  hini^^elf  iiu'reasinoly  known,  until  men  sec 


JlIO  Methodist  lieview  [March 

at  last  ^'llic  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God  in  the  face 
of  Jesus  Christ."  That  is  revelation.  Through  that  history  he 
works  out  his  eternal  purposes  for  men,  purposes  whose  meaning 
and  power  center  in  Jesus  Christ,  though  only  the  ages  shall  con- 
summate them.  That  is  ledemption.  Into  that  history  he  enters 
as  a  personal  presence  to  lead  men  into  personal  fellowship  with 
himself.  That  is  religion — religion  in  its  final  sense,  not  simply 
as  a  social  ideal  or  an  ethical  task,  but  as  a  personal  relation. 
And  here  the  real  meaning  of  human  personalitj'  comes  in,  which 
can  be  held  only  on  the  foundation  of  a  strong  doctrine  of  the 
personality  of  God.  \Vith  our  socialized  religion,  and  our  human- 
ized religion,  there  are  other  facts  to  be  takeu  into  account;  they 
spring  from  the  depths  of  inan's  personality  and  his  relation  to  this 
personal  God:  human  freedom  and  responsibility,  human  sin  and 
guilt,  and  man's  need  of  God's  mercy.  This  double  meaning  of 
the  persojial  has  been  endangered  by  the  wrong  use  of  the  historical 
method.  It  must  be  present  in  the  religion  of  to-morrow.  And 
the  historical  will  be  present  in  the  religion  of  to-morrow.  It  will 
not  j)ut  Jesus  of  Xazareth  and  his  meaning  for  men  into  a  five- 
line  postscript.  Our  systems  come  and  go,  the  wisest  and  the  best. 
We  shall  have  others  still.  And  we  shall  need  them — ^the  theologies 
in  which  we  try  to  interpret  for  the  church  of  our  age  the  meaning 
of  God's  revelation.  But  greater  than  all  these  is  the  revelation 
itself;  the  fact  that  the  eternal  God  has  been  made  manifest  to 
men,  that  in  Jesus  Christ  his  w'ill  of  mercy  and  his  presence  to 
save  liave  come  into  the  history  of  human  kind.  The  historical 
is  not  a  problem  for  our  faith,  but  a  foundation  without  which  it 
were  not  faith  enough  for  the  storms  of  life.  Religion  is  more 
than  an  inspiration,  an  ideal,  a  program,  an  evolution.  It  is  more 
than  man  reaching  up  to  God.  It  is  God  coming  to  men.  In  the 
faith  that  God  has  so  come  in  our  history  the  human  heart  will 
find  its  rest  and  strength,  as  it  ever  has.  And  in  that  truth,  that 
has  won  the  ages  past,  we  shall  find  our  conquering  evangel  for 
the  days  to  come. 


^^ 


I'jlO]  A  Friend  of  Latah's:  Wilh'atn  llazUlt  211 


Art.  III.— a  FRIEXD  OF  LAMB'S:    V;iLLTA:\r 
HAZLITT 

Ix  America  there  are  proLably  ten  readers  of  tlic  Essays  of 
l']lia  to  one  who  has  tbuniLed  the  pages  of  Winterslow.  llazlitt 
has  made  his  way  but  slowly  in  this  country.  And  yet  evei-y 
lover  of  Lamb  is  almost  sure  to  love  that  friend  whom  he  called 
"one  of  the  wisest  and  finest  spirits  breathing."  For  Ilazlitt, 
like  the  immortal  Elia,  possessed  to  the  full  that  rare  and  fine 
thing,  the  literary  temperament — something  quite  other  and  better 
than  the  modern  ''artistic  temperament."  lie  enjoyed  good  litera- 
ture— how  he  did  enjoy  it ! — and  he  was  able  to  communicate  this 
enjoyment  to  any  sympathetic  reader.  And  he  did  not  enjoy 
mediocre  or  bad  literature.  Herein  lies  his  great  value  as  an 
impressionistic  critic.  But  he  Avas  not  merely  a  critic;  he  was 
a  master  of  the  familiar  essay,  and,  again  like  Lamb,  revels  in 
autobiography  without  ever  being  egotistical.  As  I  turn  once  more 
the  pages  of  Table  Talk,  Sketches  and  Essays,  or  English  Poets,  I 
feel  with  renewed  confidence  that  that  person  of  literary  taste  who 
has  not  yet  read  ITazlitt  may  experience,  if  he  will,  the  joy  of  a 
discoverer.  Why,  then,  is  Ilazlitt  so  long  in  coming  into  his  own? 
Largely,  I  suspect,  on  account  of  his  personal  qualities.  L^pon 
first  acquaintance  he  is  to  many  good  people  a  strange  paradox. 
His  qualities  as  a  man  and  as  a  writer  seem  scarcely  reconcilable: 
in  the  former  character  he  was  awkward,  shy,  captious,  morbidly 
f^nspicious,  and  with  his  too  abundant  store  of  sentiment  prone  to 
]>lay  the  fool;  in  the  latter  character  he  was  easy,  brilliant,  often 
l>old  beyond  measure,  frank  without  egotism,  and  always  admira- 
I'ly  efi'ective.  His  genius,  wayward,  yet  to  a  certain  degree  self- 
JH^tifying,  refuses  to  linger  within  the  })ale  of  the  small  critic's 
ndes.  Xever  was  there  a  man  who  called  for  more  breadth  and 
f:<nerosity  of  estimate.  He  declines  to  be  ranked  either  as  optim.ist 
or  pessimist;  he  was  one,  or  both,  or  neither,  all  in  the  space  of  a 
single  essay.  Essentially,  then,  he  was  a  person  of  moods.  Variety 
Was  to  him  not  only  the  spice  of  life  but,  one  suspects,  a  large  part 
"•r  food  as  well.     He  had  an  inordinate  craving  for  s}Tnpathy,  but 


212  Methodist  lie  view  [March 

apparently  not  always  a  proportionate  quantity  to  bestow.  In 
short,  despite  Proctor's  assertion  that  ''no  man  was  competent  to 
write  npon  llazlitr  v;ho  did  not  know  him  personally,"  one  is  not 
unlikely  to  feel,  when  particularly  exasperated  Ly  some  of  Haz- 
litt's  displays  of  the  varieties  of  iniquity  wliich  in  orthodox  days 
were  believed  to  derive  from  Adam,  that  one  wishes  to  know  him 
thus  chiefly  in  order  to  forget  him  in  the  w^riter. 

Here  his  fame  and  title,  so  long  denied  him  even  in  his  own 
country,  are  now  secure.  The  dull-witted  sneers  of  the  Quarterly 
and  the  ruffian  abuse  of  Blackwood's  no  longer  anuoy  him.  Will- 
iam Gifi'ord  and  John  Wilson  are  fast  receding  into  forgetfulness, 
while  liazlitt,  despite  their  attacks,  as  petty  as  they  were  dastardly, 
has  risen  to  his  place  of  pride.  The  complete  edition  of  his  works 
published  but  a  very  few  years  since  is  one  of  his  rewards  from 
posterity.  This  abuse  he  owed  to  the  fact  that  lie  was  a  political 
Dissenter,  a  Eadical  deep-rooted.  His,  moreover,  was  not  the 
diffidence  of  dissent,  but  its  dissidence.  He  prided  himself  upon 
being  no  government  tool.  In  many  beliefs  he  ranked  under  a 
party  which  had  but  one  member — William  Ha;^litt.  He  v.^as 
nothing  if  not  independent.  Naturally,  this  drew  npon  him  the 
malignity — for  it  was  no  less — of  the  King's  men.  E3'  a  libelous 
review  of  his  Characters  of  Shakespeare's  Plays,  they  killed  at 
once  the  further  sale  of  the  book,  which  had  for  several  months 
been  popular.  Then,  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  they  main- 
tained a  fire  upon  him  during  the  remainder  of  his  life,  retarding 
liis  just  recognition  and  blighting  his  career.  They  dubbed  him 
"pimpled  Ilazliit" — not  because  it  was  true  but  because  it  would 
serve  as  well  with  Tory  readers.  They  called  him  a  "poor, 
cankered  creature."  In  fact,  they  endeavored  to  make  him  an 
object  to  point  the  finger  at.  After  a  Blackwood's,  he  was  fearing 
descents  fj'om  his  creditors  or  landlord  for  the  next  Aveek,  and 
scarce  dared  look  a  pa:^ser-by  in  the  face.  Through  it  all,  it  is  true, 
he  kept  his  principles :  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  bullied ;  yet  he  felt, 
despite  his  sturdy  rejoinders,  that  he  had  the  worst  of  this  unequal 
contest,  and  the  knowledge  embittered  him.  After  that  stormy 
setting  of  Xapoleon's  power  at  Waterloo  there  were  few  hours  of 
Ila/ditt's  life  which  could  be  reckoned  bv  a  sun-dial.     Thenceforth 


1010]  A  Friend  of  Lamb's:  ^YilUaln  lladltl  213 

lie  took  refuge  in  the  memories  of  his  early  days.  His  spirit  of 
dissent  was,  j^erhaps,  due  in  part  to  his  undeniable  love  of  combat; 
but  it  is  hardly  just  to  accept  De  Quincev's  cavalier  assertion  that 
Ilazlitt's  motto  %vas,  "Whatever  is,  is  wrong."  Both  his  pug- 
naciousness  and  his  dissent  he  imbibed  from  his  father,  a  Dis- 
senting clergrman  of  Irish  blood,  who  designed  that  his  son  should 
also  follow  this  profession.  But  William  had  little  enough  of  the 
cndo-wnieut  of  a  clergyman.  The  blood  which  ran  warm  in  his 
veins  very  early  protested  against  the  paternal  wishes ;  indeed,  one 
soon  finds  him  a  freethinker-:-independent  in  this  as  in  all  other 
respects. 

^Meanwhile  the  first  gTeat  experience  of  his  life  had  come  ujion 
him — his  meeting  with  Coleridge,  in  1T9S,  Ilazlitt  being  then  in 
his  twentieth  yeai-.  Here,  certainly,  from  his  enthusiastic  account 
in  that  memorable  essay,  "My  First  Acquaintance  with  Poets,"  ^ 
a  new  planet  swam  into  his  ken.  Coleridge  was  to  him  an  inspired 
bard,  an  oracle  of  truth,  speaking  withal  in  a  voice  whose  tones 
were  a  spell  unto  his  listeners,  rising,  his  worshiper  tells  us,  "like 
a  steam  of  rich,  distilled  perfumes."  Hazlitt  was  then  at  his 
father's  home,  in  Wcm,  Shropshire.  The  ten  muddy  miles  to 
Shrewsbury,  where-  Coleridge  was  to  preach,  he  covered  with  eager 
expectation — an  expectation  exceeded,  however,  by  the  reality, 
which  only  his  own  Avords  can  properly  relate.  He  soon  afterward 
met  the  poet  at  Wem,  and  listened  in  silence  to  accents  which  were 
for  him  those  of  a  new  existence.  "The  past  w^is  a  sleep,  and  his 
life  began."  An  invitation  to  Xethcr  Stowcy,  where  Coleridgr^ 
then  resided,  filled  his  cup  of  hap])iness.  This  man  exercised 
more  influence  on  Hazlitt's  life  than  anyone  else.  In  spite  of 
Coleridge's  later  apostasy  fi-om  the  principles  of  the  French  Bevo- 
lution,  which  Hazlitt  never  forgave,  he  was  always  an  idol,  "the 
only  person  I  ever  knew,"  declares  his  disciple,  "who  answered  to 
tlie  idea  of  a  man  of  genius."  But,  hero-worshi])er  though  he  was, 
lla/litt  had  few  fiiends  and  retained  fewer.  His  irritable  tempera- 
"i^-'it  and  love  of  solitude— one  of  his  most  delightful  essays  = 
•  ulatos  on  the  joys  of  going  on  a  journey  alone — did  not  recom- 
J^Mid  him  to  the  give-and-take  of  comradeship.     One  cynically 

'  lii  Wiriifislow.  2  '•  On  Going  a  Journey  "  (TaLlc  Talk). 


214  Methodist  lie  view  [March 

suspects  that  he  got  more  comfort  out  of  his  hatreds  than  out  of 
his  friendships;  he  deehired  himself  "the  king  of  good  haters." 
Here  only  was  he  methodical.  He  may  be  said  to  have  kept  his 
personal  hatreds  in  a  kind  of  mental  k  dger,  and  was  never  satisfied 
unless  the  accounts  balanced.  A  list  of  his  dislikes  would  be 
amusing :  it  would  certainly  include  kings,  pedants,  blue-stockings, 
country  people,  tyranny,  Methodism,  long  friendships,  the  Society 
for  the  Suppression  of  Vice,  the  Eoyal  Academy,  the  conversation 
of  lords,  the  House  of  Commons,  and  the  sound  of  the  ocean ! 
Besides  these,  moreover,  he  had  a  large  assortment  of  "imperfect 
sympathies." 

Yet  it  were  ill  justice  to  omit  to  record  that  his  likes  were  as 
many  and  as  intense  as  his  dislikes.  His  favorite  books  he  loved 
beyond  measure.  He  delights  in  telling  us  the  time  and  circum- 
stances in  which  he  perused  them;  how  he  sat  up  all  night  at  a 
country  inn  to  finish  Paul  and  Virginia.  His  early  years,  however, 
form  the  only  period  in  which  he  accomplished  much  reading;  for, 
as  he  himself  says,  he  ceased  to  read  when  he  began  to  write — 
which  was  not,  it'  is  true,  until  he  was  past  thirty.  His  literary 
criticism  seems  to  have  begun  with  a  paper  in  the  Edinburgh 
Eeview  in  IS  15,  though  for  a  few  years  earlier  he  had  been  con- 
tributing short  articles  to  Leigh  Hunt's  Examiner.  His  powers 
were  therefore  matured  before  he  made  any  important  estimate. 
And  into  literature  he  carried  a  serenity  quite  foreign  to  what 
would  be  ex]Dected  of  him  as  a  man.  He  was  another  Hazlitt,  and  a 
better.  That  was  an  acute  and  sympathetic  remark  of  Thackeray's 
concerning  him:  "It  was  always  good  to  know  what  were  the 
impressions  made  by  books,  or  men,  or  pictures  on  such  a  mind." 
Although  he  was  an  impressionist,  he  was  almost  invariably  safe. 
On  most  literary  works  and  problems  he  was  fitted  to  speak  ex 
cailicdra:  his  sensuous  and  poetic  nature  enabled  him  to  place 
himself  en  rapport  with  nearly  any  theme,  to  exercise  both  a  sym- 
pathetic recei)tiveness  and  a  disinterested  judgment.  He  always 
saw  deep  into  his  men  and  their  works ;  his  essays  are  never  barren, 
never  commonplace.  He  has,  moreover,  that  final  power  of  a 
critic,  the  knack  of  getting  at  the  heart  of  a  thing.  His  are  the 
Von  mots  of  criticism.    He  writes  a  plirase  where  your  small  critic 


1910]  A  Friend  of  Lamb's:  }yiUiam   HazIUt  215 

covers  a  page.  Wlieu  be  has  finished  his  discussion  of  Spenser  or 
Crabbe,  one  feels  a  sense  of  satisfaction  which  does  not  always  ac- 
company a  perusal  of  some  modern  "literary"  essays  which  illus- 
trate the  scientific  method  and  reveal  the  scientific  temperament. 
In  Hazlitt  the  whole  is  so  good  reading  that  you  forget  it  is  mere 
criticism.  He  is  kin  with  those  on  whom  he  pronounces;  the 
author  is  tried  by  his  peer.  One  stops  here  to  ask,  Of  how  many 
critics  since  Hazlitt  can  this  be  said  ?  And,  as  Mr.  Saintsbury  has 
well  suggested,  he  never  praised  a  defect. 

Concerning  bis  powers  of  estimate  a  few  reservations  must 
naturally  be  made.  He  is  occasionally  prone  to  use  a  superlative 
where  it  is  scarcely  warranted.  His  enthusiastic  assertion  that 
Mrs.  I7ichbald's  stories  arc  as  if  written  by  Venus  herself  is  per- 
haps harmless  enough,  since  Venus  never  wrote  anything;  but 
it  is,  shall  we  say,  fancy  rather  than  judgment.  ]\[ore  reprehensi- 
ble are  his  few^  but  violent  prejudices.  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  son- 
nets, for  example,  he  finds  unendurable;  and  no  less  hearty  is  his 
contempt  for  Shelley's  work.  But  such  critical  aberrations  arc 
rare  in  his  volumes.  If  we  add  that  he  failed  to  recognize  Byron's 
power  as  a  satirist,  we  have  mentioned  most  of  the  important  ones. 
Nor  ought  we  to  find  much  with  which  to  quarrel  in  his  general 
method — or  lack  of  method — of  criticism;  he  is  often  desultory 
but  seldom  either  careless  or  slipshod.  Many  of  his  verdicts  seem 
written  in  a  genial,  after-dinner  mood.  All  of  his  critical  papers 
were  apparently  done  rapidly.  He  went  down  to  Winterslow, 
to  a  lonely  country  house  where  he  loved  to  work,  and  spent  six 
weeks  with  a  pile  of  Elizabethan  dramas.  When  he  returned  lie 
had  not  only  read  them  all  but  had  penned  his  lectures  as  well. 
This  we  may  think  discreditable  haste — until  we  have  read  the 
lectures.  The  pages  on  Delckcr  have,  I  think,  never  been  sur- 
])assed.  In  much  of  his  work,  both  in  this  and  other  periods, 
Hazlitt  was  a  pioneer — a  pioneer,  that  is  to  say,  in  furnishing 
correct  and  well-rounded  estimates.  ^Moreover,  many  of  hi?  sjiecific 
assertions  are  far  in  advance  of  those  of  his  contemporaries — his 
defcii.^c,  for  example,  of  the  clown  scenes  in  Shakesj^eare's  trag- 
edies. Lamb's  remarks  on  the  Elizabethan  period  are  also  excel- 
lent, but  wiun  Swinburne  speaks  of  "the  Hnzliits  ])rattling  at  his 


216  Methodist  Review  [March 

lieols"  he  talks  nonsense.  If  there  was  anything  that  Ilazlitt  did 
not  do  it  was  to  prattle  at  anybody's  heels.  He  was  the  first  to 
do  justice  to  the  fine  genius  and  character  of  Swift,  anticipating 
similar  verdicts  from  Forster,  Mr.  Craik,  and  Churton  Collins 
by  more  than  fifty  years.  He  even  forgave  Swift  for  being  a  Tory. 
Of  Gulliver's  Travels  he  says:  ''I  cannot  see  the  harm,  the  mis- 
anthroj)y,  the  immoral  and  degi-ading  tendency  of  all  this.  The 
moral  lesson  is  as  fine  as  the  intellectual  exhibition  is  amusing. 
It  is  an  attempt  to  teaj-  off  the  mask  of  imposture  from  the  woj-ld; 
and  nothing  but  imposture  has  a  right  to  complain  of  it."  How 
firmly  has  posterity  placed  upon  these  words  the  golden  seal, 
''Well  said"  1  'Not  only  in  his  studies  of  past  literature,  more- 
over, did  he  display  these  admirable  qualities,  but  in  studies  much 
more  diflicult — so  difiicult,  indeed,  that  few  modern  critics  have 
succeeded  in  them.  His  estimates  of  contemporary  literature  are 
remarkably  sane  and  penetrating.  With  extremely  few  exceptions 
he  reveals  astonishing  ability  to  gain  perspective,  to  detach  him- 
self from  his  time  and  its  associations,  and  to  view  its  poetry  and 
prose  in  the  clear  light  of  an  alien.  A  crucial  test  of  this  ability 
is  his  estimate  of  Wordsworth,  favorable  and  true  when  almost 
all  other  contemporary  estimates  were  unfavorable  and  untrue. 
One  sees  in  Hazlitt's  pages  no  such  tirade  as.  Jeft'rey's  over  Words- 
worth's "childishness,"  "perverseness,"  "silly  sooth,"  "babyish 
absuidity,"  "trash,"  "hubbub  of  strained  raptures,"  "poetical  in- 
toxication,"and  the  like,  which  are  but  a  few  examples  of  the  Scotch 
editor's  billingsgate.  Ilazlitt  pronouiiccd  Wordsworth  the  most 
original  poet  of  thr-  age,  averring,  furthermore,  that  he  had 
described  nature  belter  than  any  other  poet.  His  praise  of  the 
"Excursion"  was  tcm])ered  with  considerable  frank  and  well- 
deserved  censure;  but  his  commendation  of  the  poet's  best  work 
is  proved  unmistakably  by  his  b(>ldly  expressed  preference  of 
Wordsworlli  to  Hyron.  7t  took  coni-age  to  voice  such  an  opinion 
at  a  time  when  the  autlior  of  "Chihle  Harold"  was  at  the  full  blaze 
of  his  fame;  but  lla/litt  was  ufvcr  one  who  hesitated  to  speak 
hi'^  mind.  To  his  credit  be  it  said  that  if  he  was  sometimes  a 
rather  querulous  dissenter,  he  was  never  a  shuillei-,  a  feeler  of  pop- 
ular sentimt-nt.      If  he  saw   that  a   thing  was  C'ood,  he  said   so, 


1910]  A  Friend  of  Lamb's:  William  llazliit  217 

whether  one  or  a  million  were  on  his  side.  And  all  this  he  said 
justly;  for  by  his  remarkable  gift  of  swift  insight  he  was  qualified 
to  do  it.  Beside  so  thoroughly  unqualified  a  person  as  Lord 
Jeffrey — whose  w^orst  critical  remarks  illustrate  Ilazlitt's  stric- 
tures in  his  paper  *'0n  the  Conversation  of  Lords" — he  "sticks 
fiery  off  indeed."  Jeffrey,  in  the  eyes  of  posterity,  forfeits  all  right 
to  pronounce  on  Wordsworth  by  his  pitiful  inability  to  distinguish 
his  good  qualities  and  good  poems  from  his  bad  qualities  and  bad 
poems.  Xo  such  bathos  of  criticism  yawns  in  Ilazlitt's  work.  If 
we  look  forward  to  Matthew  Arnold,  we  find  in  his  literary  verdicts 
correspondence  to  those  of  Hazlitt,  not  only  on  Wordsworth  but 
also  on  our  other  great  poets.  No  higher  tribute  than  this  need 
be  paid  to  Ilazlitt's  permanent  value.  Like  Arnold,  he  possesses 
the  illuminating  phrase,  the  power  of  brief  and  telling  character- 
ization, the  wise  emphasis,  the  salutary  severity,  the  determination 
to  stamp  nothing  great  that  is  mediocre,  wdiich  mark  the  truly 
inspiring  critic.  jSTothing  has  been  better  proved  than  that  the 
adequate  critic  of  poets  must  himself  be  at  soul  a  poet.  Herein 
Jeffrey  often  failed;  herein  Gifford  miserably  failed;  and 
herein  many  a  modern  hopelessly  flounders.  But  of  Hazlitt 
it  may  be  repeated  that  '"'It  was  always  good  to  know  what  were 
the  impressions  made  by  books,  or  men,  or  pictures  on  such 
a  mind." 

Of  his  comment  uj^on  painting  and  the  stage  I  shall  make  no 
mention ;  but  in  this  he  showed  the  same  nicety  of  touch  as  in  his 
literary  criticism.  His  references  to  pictures  and  artists  are 
frequent  throughout  his  works.  And  despite  his  desultory  methods 
he  had  a  set  of  critical  principles  sufficiently  well  formulated  in 
h.is  mind.  His  impressions  are  not  lawless,  random,  or  inconsis- 
tent ;  he  did  not,  like  Jeffrey,  say  one  thing  to-day  and  another 
to-morrow.  Moreover,  though  it  has  been  urged  that  the  range  of 
his  reading  and,  consequently,  of  his  estimate,  was  not  wide,  yet 
lie  touched  upon  nearly  all  of  our  great  names  in  English  letters. 
It  may  be  admitted  that  he  was  not  a  comprehensive  and  deep 
f^cholar;  but  what  he  said  of  Shakespeare's  Antony  and  Cleopatra 
may  be  applied  to  himself — his  genius  has  spread  over  the  Avhole 
field  of  his  judgments   "'a   richness   like  the   overflowing   of   the 


21S  Methodist  Beview  [j\Jarcli 

iSilo."  Says  Mr.  Saintsbiiry,  ^  with  pardonable  enthusiasm:  "He 
is  the  critic's  critic  as  Spenser  is  the  poet's  poet;  that  is  to  say, 
he  has,  errors  excepted  and  deficiencies  allowed,  the  greatest  pro- 
])ortion  of  the  strictly  critical  excellences — of  the  qualities  which 
make  a  critic — that  any  ]i]nglish  writer  of  his  craft  has  ever 
possessed." 

His  miscellaneous  familiar  essays,  of  which  he  wrote  a  great 
number,  refuse  to  be  ranked  so  conveniently.  Hazlitt's  powers 
are  probably  even  more  characteristically  revealed  in  them  than 
in  ]iis  critical  papers.  But  they  are  a  genus  Hazlitt — as  unique 
as  Lamb's  Essays  of  Elia.  His  desultory  methods  were  better 
suited  to  this  form  of  composition  than  to  any  other.  We  expect 
no  system,  or  ought  to  expect  none.  Shall  we  ask  for  a  systematic 
treatise  "0\\  a  Sun-Dial''  ?  Or  on  "My  First  Acquaintance 
with  Poets"  ?  Or  "On  Living  to  One's  Self"  ?  Obviously  what  is 
requisite  here  is  interest ;  and  to  secure  interest  the  author  must 
have  a  brilliant  mind,  a  fund  of  illustration,  abundant  imagery, 
recollections,  the  fruits'  of  unplanned  meditations  over  uncounted 
cui)3  of  fabulously  strong  tea — Hazlitt's  substitute  for  pipe  and 
bowl.  All  these  desirable  things  Hazlitt  gives  his  readers.  I  am 
tempted  to  say  that  in  his  choicest  personal  essays  he  is  the  best 
company  in  the  world.  The  sources  of  this  charm  it  is  not  easy  to 
explain,  and  even  less  easy  to  generalize  upon,  since  each  essay 
has  a  llavor  of  its  own.  But,  unquestionably,  one  main  source  is 
the  personal  spell :  on  every  page  the  author  is  telling  us  in  one  way 
or  another  about  himself.  He  is  taking  us  into  his  confidence. 
And,  like  Lamb,  he  can  do  this  without  leaving  a  trace  of  egotism. 
Or  at  times  he  turns  the  quizzical  philosopher  on  things  of  every-, 
day  life.  When  he  dif^-cusses  the  apparently  trite  question,  "Why 
Distant  Ol.ijects  Please,"  we  see  nothing  of  the  pedant,  the  dry- 
as-dust  philosopher:  it  is  ])lirlo?ophy  popularized,  brought  to  our 
armchairs.  But  if  anyone  thinks  it  easy  to  write  this  kind  of 
philosophical  essay,  let  lilm  point  us  excellent  examples  outside 
of  Hazlitt's  work;  a  precious  time  ho  will  have  in  the  search,  for 
the  qualities  necessary  thus  to  extract  only  the  interesting  are  not 
common.     We  do  not    desire  threadbare  commonplaces   or  trite 

'A  History  of  Ninefoentli  C'tiUiiry  Literature,  p.  1S7. 


IjtlO]  A  Friend  of  Lamb's:  William  llazliii  219 

coiupnrisous  ]  in  a  ^vol•d,  we  do  not  \vit;h  a  philosopher,  in  an  effort 
to  ho  popuhir,  to  talk  like  poor  Poll.  But  all  such  pitfalls  Ilazlitt 
US  if  hy  instinct  avoided.  In  all  of  his  philosophical  papers  he 
succeeds  in  holding  us  under  the  spell  of  his  unique  methods. 
Tliose  essays  are  full  of  rich  i)assage3  of  emotion,  of  unexpected 
excursions  of  thought,  of  swift  sallies,  of  daring  assertions  which 
pique  the  curiosity  and  arouse  antagonism  only  to  disarm  it.  Ilaz- 
litt was  master  of  these  arts  of  holding  the  attention,  lie  was  a 
master  also  of  narrative  method  in  the  essay.  And  I  suspect  that 
he  could  have  given  us  an  absorbing  novel.  It  would  doubtless 
have  been  largely  made  up  of  autobiographical  material,  and  would 
never  have  arrived  anywhere;  but  for  my  part  I  should  not  have 
cared  whether  it  did.  There  would  have  been  delights  innumerable 
on  the  way.  All  this,  of  course,  is  mere  fancy;  but  it  serves  to 
illustrate  his  peculiar  gifts.  There  is  almost  an  atmosphere  of 
Arcady  in  several  of  his  best  personal  essays;  and  in  the  final 
analysis  they  are  all  personal.  This  atmosphere  seems  to  be 
gained  somev;hat  by  a  tone  of  romantic  regret,  the  painting,  now 
j.u-ous,  now  tender,  of  the  days  gone  by.  Ilazlitt  is  always  look- 
ing backward,  is,  in  fact,  a  dweller  in  the  past.  The  impetus  which 
be  gave  to  the  Ivo'mantic  Movement  in  the  early  nineteenth 
century  was  not  inconsiderable.  He  commends  himself  particu- 
larly to  those  readers  whose  days  are  already  in  the  sere  and 
Vfllow  leaf.  He  ought  to  be  delightful  perusal  for  old  maids; 
i:uic\xl,  for  the  advanced  singulars  of  either  sex.  One  gets  a 
g.muinc  feeling  of  comfort  from  many  of  his  essays.  Things 
"long  to  quiet  vowfd''  start  up  in  our  recollections  as  lie  proceeds 
i::  his  endless  reminiscences — endless,  however,  to  modify  one  of 
!::>  own  phrases,  only  in  the  sense  that  as  they  go  on  forever  you 
v.-fh  Them  to  go  on  foi-ever.  Such  are  those  \\\  the  ''Farewell  to 
Essay  Writing,"^  which  opens  with  that  passage  of  mournful 
content : 

Food,  warmth,  sleep,  and  a  book;  these  are  all  I  at  present  ask — the 
^l^.ma  Thiile  of  my  wandering  desires.    Do  you  not  then  wish  for 

A  friend   in  your  retreat. 
Whom  you  may  whisper,  solitude  Is  sweet? 


220  Methodist  Hevicw  [March 

Expected,  well  enough — gone,  still  better.  Such  attractions  are  strength- 
ened by  distance.  Nor  a  mistress?  "Beautiful  mask!  I  know  theel" 
When  I  can  judge  of  the  heai  t  from  the  face,  of  the  thoughts  from  the 
lips,  I  may  again  trust  myself.  Instead  of  these  give  me  the  robin  red- 
breast, picking  the  crumbs  at  the  door,  or  warbling  on  the  leafless  spray, 
the  same  glancing  foria  that  has  followed  me  wherever  I  have  been,  and 
"done  its  spiriting  gently";  or  the  rich  notes  of  the  thrush  that  startle 
the  car  of  winter,  and  seem  to  have  drunk  up  the  full  draught  of  joy 
from  the  very  sense  of  contrast.  To  these  I  adhere,  and  am  faithful,  for 
they  are  true  to  me. 

There  is  perhaps  a  certain  tone  of  petulance  in  this  and  other 
essays ;  a  petulance  which  seems  more  freqnent  in  the  productions 
of  his  latest  years.  His  impatience  at  the  world  and  at  himself 
woidd  sometimes  out  with  almost  startling  plainness.  But  more 
often  the  mood  was  one  of  half-content.  And  there  are  many 
assays  that  herd  under  neither  definition.  Indeed,  if  there  is  one 
thing  to  be  emphasized  concerning  Hazlitt's  miscellaneous  papers, 
it  is  their  astonishing  variety  Loth  of  theme  and  treatment.  At 
one  remove  stands  that  thoroughly  enjoyable  description — full  of 
gusto — of  "The  Fight,"  a  masterpiece  of  vividness  and  color.  It 
would  go  far  toward  reconciling  the  veriest  man  of  peace  to  prize- 
fighting if  he  possessed  literary  taste.  Tennyson  thought  it  good 
enough  to  pilfer  from  it  the  phrase,  "red  ruin,"  which  Hazlitt  had 
applied  to  the  condition  of  the  face  of  one  of  the  combatants  after 
an  especially  sturdy  blow.  At  one  remove,  I  say,  stands  this 
description;  at  the  otlier,  perhaps,  "The  Look  of  a  Gentleman." 
And  for  satirical  power  we  mn^t  go  to  our  greatest  satirist.  Swift, 
to  find  anv-thing  better  than  the  "Letter  to  William  Gilford,  Esq.,'" 
that  slashing  editor  of  the  Quarterly  "I'Jeview.  One  fancies  that 
even  the  crocodile  ])lates  of  Gifl'ord's  brain  must  have  been  pierced 
by  it.  The  language,  moreover,  is  not  wantonly  abusive  but 
simply  adequate  to  the  sul)ject.  And  this  adequacy  of  expression 
is  just  as  characteristic  of  any  other  article  of  Hazlitt's.  Whether 
ho  is  writing  an  essay  critical,  philosophical,  or  personal,  his  style 
is  always  clear-cut  and  brilliant.  Its  structure  is  simple  and 
straightforward.  His  long,  rolling  periods,  which  a]^pear  in  some 
of  his  best  essays,  are  never  involved  ;  they  gatlicr  themselves  u]^ 
lil<e  a  billow,  and  break  at  the  close  into  a  long  cadence  whicli 
echoo?  down  ilie  entire  ]>nge.     Such  is  that  sublime  description  of 


1910]  A  Friend  of  Lamb's:  ^Yilliam  HazUH  221 

the  jojs  of  life  in  ''The  Feeling  of  Immortality  in  Youth."  ^ 
[Moreover,  he  frequently  shoAVs  that  nice  sense  of  phrase  which  is 
one  of  the  surest  marks  of  a  good  style.  "The  idea  of  what  the 
public  will  think  prevents  the  ])ublic  from  ever  thinking  at  all." 
]fow  well  that  is  said !  Here  was  a  writer  who  could  mold 
language  to  his  will.  Such  powers  often  imply,  as  in  the  case  of 
Carlyle,  that  their  possessor  will  allow  himself,  iu  diction  and 
usage,  a  liberty,  perhaps  a  license  of  treatment.  On  the  contrary, 
no  man  took  fewer  liberties  than  Hazlitt.  He  did  no  violence 
to  our  English  tongue.  He  was  no  highwayman  of  literary  art, 
forcing  words  and  phrases  to  his  bidding.  His  is  a  manner  well 
suited  to  the  most  frequent  demands;  it  satisfies  both  the  artist  and 
the  utilitarian.  It  is  flexible  without  weakness,  formal  without 
stiffness.  It  is  Hazlitt,  true  to  himself,  and  his  splendid  powers. 
If  he  was  sometimes  ridiculous  as  a  man,  he  was  always  master  of 
the  situation  as  a  writer.  His  self-possession  is  as  complete  iu  the 
latter  character  as  it  was  indiscernible  in  the  former.  There  is 
no  shuffle  in  his  literary  gait. 

Such  a  ^vl•iter  has  the  golden  gift  of  turning  everything  that 
he  touches  into  literature.  And  in  his  best  passages  he  often  shows 
a  poetic  power — for  Hazlitt's  temperament  was  clearly  and  richly 
poetic — which  recalls  the  "glad  prose"  of  Jeremy  Taylor.  Imag- 
ination glows  through  them  with  a  wealth  and  softness  which  give 
us  a  new  indication  of  their  author's  genius;  and  one  seldom 
detects,  as  one  detects  so  often  in  De  Quincey,  overabundant  allit- 
ei-ation,  inflated  diction,  or  grandiose  sentiment.  Hazlitt's  in- 
fluence, as  might  be  suspected,  upon  the  prose  of  the  nineteenth 
century  was  easily  noticeable.  Stevenson,  himself  one  of  the  best 
stylists  of  its  later  half,  said,  "We  are  mighty  fine  fellows,  but  we 
cannot  write  like  William  Hazlitt."  And  there  are  others  who 
might  well  have  acknowledged  thus  generously  their  indebtedness. 
Ruskin  is  almost  certainly  to  be  reckoned  among  these.  Hazlitt's 
essay  "On  a  Landscape  of  ^Nicholas  Poussin"  is  a  pioneer  in  the 
field.  And  the  following  touch  is  unmistakably  in  the  manner  of 
Ruskin:  "Let  the  naturalist,  if  he  will,  catch  the  glow-worm, 
carry  it  home  with  him  in  a  box,  and  find  it  next  morning  nothing 

■  In  M'iiitcrslow. 


222  McihodiH  Review  [March 

but  a  little  gray  worm ;  let  the  ]>oct  or  the  lover  of  poetry  visit  it 
at  evening,  wlien  beneath  the  scented  hawthorn  and  the  crescent 
moon  it  has  built  itself  a  ]-)alace  of  emerald  light."  Truly,  the  seed 
of  llazlitt's  work  was  fruitful.  Both  ]\Iacaulay  and  Arnold  drew 
some  suggestions  from  it.  Wheth(U-  Carlylc  did  is  doubtful ;  if 
ho  had,  he  would  probably  never  liave  admitted  it.  But  what 
a  character  he  would  have  presented  for  lla/ditt's  critical  pen ! 
It  is  to  be  regretted  that  we  could  not  have  had  a  twenty-page 
picture  of  this  Oracle  of  Chelsea  in  The  Spirit  of  the  x\ge,  a 
sprightly  volume  in  which  Ilazlitt  drew  faithful  portraits  of  some 
of  his  prominent  contemporaries.  Il  would  have  been  as  good,  1 
suspect,  as  Carlvle's  own  Reminiscences,  And  perhaps  Ilazlitt 
would  have  repaid  that  indecent  abuse  of  Lamb  which  is  one  of  the 
disfigurements  of  the  Beminiscences. 

One  likes  best,  however,  to  think  of  Ilazlitt,  not  in  the  recrim- 
ination of  partisan  bitterness  but  in  the  lonely  peace  and  genial 
surroundings  of  Winterslow.  When  he  once  forgot  the  world — 
and,  one  may  add,  the  flesh  and  the  devil— he  was,  to  repeat  the 
already  quoted  tribute  of  Lamb,  "one  of  the  wisest  and  finest  spirits 
breathing."  He  tossed  off  exquisite  papers  with  an  ease  which 
may  well  have  awakened  the  admiration  of  his  successors.  Ho 
did 

What  many  dream  of  all  their  lives. 

Dream?  strive  to  do,  and  agonize  to  do, 

And  fail  In  doing. 

When  he  breathed  the  serene  air  of  literary  creation  he  w^as  him- 
self. He  never  connnitted  a  gauchcrie  here.  He  wrote  no  labored 
sentences,  no  heavy  or  pompous  platitudes.  When  w^e  turn  the 
last  pages  of  his  volumes  we  forget  the  blunders  of  his  w-ell-nigh 
ludicrous  life;  we  remember  oidy  the  swift  flashes  of  insight,  the 
catholicity  which  quite  overshadows  the  prejudice,  and,  above  all, 
the  naturalness,  tlie  consummate  ease,  of  his  writings.  !N^ow  that 
Tory  rancor  and  all  other  hostility  is  inefKcient  against  his  memory, 
Hazlitt  will  take  the  place  which  lie  has  so  long  deserved.  Though 
lie  gave  us  no  body  of  new  doctrine,  yet  he  talked  upon  subjects 
so  intimate  to  the  average  man,  in  a  manner  so  picturesque  and 
personal,  that  he  fills  a  niche  of  liis  own  in  our  literature.    And  his 


1010]  A  Friend  of  LamVs:  William   llazlitt  223 

criticism,  invaluable  in  his  own  period,  has  endnred  remarkably 
the  searching  test  of  time;  despite  the  long  roll  of  later  critics, 
jiazlitt  is  still  quoted,  and  some  of  his  work  in  this  field  will  proba- 
bly never  be  supplanted.  In  oiie  of  his  later  essays  he  says, 
'i  should  like  to  leave  some  sterling  work  behind  me."  He  has 
left  it.  Disappointment  and  persecution  obscure  his  real  self; 
but  abundance  appears,  none  the  less,  to  assure  us  that  here  was  a 
seeker  of  the  "fugitive  and  gracious  light''  of  truth,  which  does 
not  come 

With  houses  or  with  gold, 
With  place,  with  honor,  and  a  flattering  crew. 

His  splendid  talents  might  have  W'on  him  wealth  and  comfort  in 
the  service  of  his  political  opponents ;  he  rejected  the  thought. 
TudifLcrence  to  injustice  w^oiild  have  secured  him  a  more  peaceful 
life;  such  indifference  was  impossible.  His  seemingly  contradic- 
tory qualities  estranged  from  him  all  save  a  few  whose  insight 
could  understand  him,  or  whose  sympathy  was  willing  to  accept 
him.  Lamb  could  do  both ;  and  it  is  with  Lamb  that  1  like  to  think 
of  him,  whether  in  life  or  in  letters. 


cJL^t-^ 


224:  Methodist  Be  view  [March 


Art.  IV.— DEXOMIXxVTIOXAL  COXTEOL  OF 

COLLEGES 
TnEKE  are  now  inoveincnts  in  education  wliicli  render  a  fnr- 
sio-btod   policy,   for   denominational   institutions,   of  the   greatest 
importajice.     Princely  gifts  from  individuals,  and  the  creation  of 
great  hoards  ^vhich  assume  more  or  less  of  educational  or  of  admin- 
istrative  direction,   while   they   have   not   entirely   created,    have 
rapidly,   and  perhaps  nndnly,   intensified   a   situation   regarding 
denominational  colleges  which,  sooner  or  later,  was  sure  to  involve 
the  entire  question  of  college  administration.     The  genius  of  Prot- 
estantism worlds  toward  tlie  survival  of  institutions  on  the  pure 
basis  of  their  right  to  exist  as  witnessed  in  the  judgment  of  enlight- 
ened men.     It  will  brook  no  mediteval  compulsions,  no  survivals 
through  appeal  to  passion  and  prejudice,  but  it  depends  upon  the 
appeal  of  God's  truth  to  man's  spirit  and  man's  instincts.     An 
institution  must  prove  its  worth  by  the  contribution  it  makes  to  the 
transfornmtion  of  men  into  the  image  of  God  and  by  the  ability 
of  that  institu'tion  to  keep  pace  with  advancing  conceptions  of 
justice,  of  morality,  of  social  service,  and  of  religion,  as  finally 
shown  to  be  true  and  tenable  by  all  righteous  tests.     Any  man  of 
prophetic  sjurit  who  understands  ihe  spirit  of  Protestantism  will 
sec  that  eventually  there  must  have  come  a  lively  discussion  of  the 
question  of  technical  denominational  control  in  institutions  which 
lay  special  stress  on  the  development  of  religious  life  and  character, 
and  which  seek  to  train  a  generation  in  their  religious  ideals  and 
in  devotion  to  the  service  of  a  particular  denomination.     This  is  a 
many-sided  question.    The  last  word  of  the  discussion  is  a  long  way 
from  having  been  spoken.     Sooner  or  later  all  artificial  restrictions 
will  be  removed.     Tlie  strong,  broad-minded,  truly  spiritual  man, 
who  demonstrates  his  i)0wer  to  lead  by  the  strength  of  his  ideas,  the 
nobility  of  his  Christian  character,  and  a  loyalty  evidenced  in  tbe 
sacrifice  which  makes  him  serve  and  give,  will  be  the  dominant 
personalitv.     That  was  so  in  the  early  history  of  our  institutions: 
it  ought  always  to  be  so.    If  Christian  ideas  are  what  we  hold  them 
to  be,  there  is  no  question  about  the  ultimate  outcome,     llightly 


If)  10]  Dcnominaiional  Control  of  Colleges  225 

uiKlcrslood,  they  can  and  will  win  in  inlelligent  America,  for  tlicy 
jii\'  ilie  jx'rmancnt  ideas  on  which  civilization  nmst  rest.  The 
failure  to  recognize  denominational  institutions  in  certain  quarters 
seems  to  have  forced  the  issue  rather  prematurely,  and  it  is  tending 
to  prevent  that  true  spiritual  development  in  which  certain  phases 
of  formal  ecclesiastical  control  would  have  passed  away  because  it 
hccamc  the  sober  judgraent  of  the  denominations  themselves  that 
it  had  survived  its  usefulness.  The  fading  out  of  denominational 
lines  to  make  way  for  the  world  movement  of  a  united  Protes- 
tant Christianity  must  certainly  have  given  us  very  soon  a  non- 
denominational  yet  vitally  Christian  control  of  tho^e  educational 
institutions  which  are  really  the  "Port  Arthui's  of  Christianity," 
and  we  can  only  regard  it  as  regTettable  that  the  question  has 
reached  the  acute  stage  a  little  too  early.  The  issue  is  none  the  less 
upon  us,  and  the  necessity  for  a  settlement  of  it  gives  denomina- 
tional educational  work  some  aspects  of  crisis. 

Denominational  systems  differ.  In  some  the  results  of  change 
in  the  governmejital  system  of  their  colleges  are  much  more 
serious  than  in  others.  All  the  important  Congregational  colleges, 
by  reason  of  their  general  denominatioiial  system,  had  charters 
which  made  it  easy  for  them  to  meet  the  conditions  demanded  by 
one  of  the. most  conspicuous  of  the  great  educational  foundations. 
The  genius  of  the  Methodist  system  was  different.  The  ^NEetho- 
dists  are  persuaded  that,  while  their  system  may  seem  autocratic 
and  monarchial  to  outsiders,  in  reality  it  is  one  of  the  most  demo- 
cratic, just  as  the  limited  monarchy  of  Great  Britain  gives  that 
empire  a  quite  genuine  form  of  democratic  government.  If  Eng- 
land is  having  trouble  with  its  House  of  Lords,  we  in  America 
must  speak  softly  in  view  of  the  radically  different  sentiment 
often  manifested  in  the  House  of  Eepresentativcs  and  in  the 
Seriate  of  our  own  Congress.  The  introduction  of  laymen  into 
the  governing  body  of  !Methndism,  the  vote  permitting  women  to 
sit  in  that  body,  recent  changes  in  certain  ])hases  of  the  district 
superintendency,  all  indicate  that,  while  Methodism  is  conserva- 
tive, the  body  is  pi-ogi-essivc,  has  not  lost  its  power  to  read  the 
signs  of  the  times  or  to  adapt  itself  to  changing  conditions  in  a 
conservatively  progressive  spirit.     It  is  duly  res]H")nsivc  to  ]vablic 


220  Mcthodiat  Jicvicw  [MarcL 

sentiment.  ]\Iany  of  the  strongest  leaders,  however,  look  with 
suspicion  npon  movements  for  tbe  modification  of  charters  which 
have  even  the  appcnn-ancc  of  hcing  forced  hy  financial  considera- 
tions. ]\loved  Ly  the  high  motive  of  loyalty  to  truth,  they  strcnu- 
ousl}'  oppose,  on  ethical  grounds,  what  under  different  circum- 
stances tbey  might  have  received  with  favor.  It  is  not  snrprisijig 
that  the  Methodist  denomination,  whicli  raised  ten  million  dollars 
for  its  colleges  in  two  or  three  years  during  the  Twentieth  Century 
Movement,  whose  Sunday  schools  have  created  an  educational 
fund  of  over  a  million  dollars,  whose  colleges  have  an  honorable 
educational  history,  and  now  have  about  sixty  thousand  students 
on  their  rolls,  a  denomination  which  has  trained  in  its  colleges 
some  of  the  most  noted  )nen  in  our  national  history,  should  hesitate 
before  wrenching  from  their  proper  place  in  a  denominational 
system  institutions  which  have  been  so  vitally  related  to  the  success 
and  progTCSs  of  the  church,  and  which,  more  than  any  other  single 
factor,  have  been  the  source  of  jMethodism's  universally  recog- 
nized contribution  to  our  general  national  life  and  to  our  present 
world-wide  national  influence.  The  ]\Iethodists,  therefore,  view 
with  uneasiness,  and,  in  some  instances,  with  irritation,  a  situa- 
tion in  which  an  institution  like  Oberlin  is  admitted  to  certain 
benefits,  while  institutions  like  their  own  jSTorthwestern  or 
Wesleyan  are  left  off.  These  latter  colleges  are  quite  the  educa- 
tional equals  of  Oberlin,  while  the  Congregational  institution  has 
a  religious  history  as  pronounced  as  either  of  the  others,  and 
points  with  pride  to  the  fact  that  it  has  given  over  one  tliousand 
home  and  foreigii  missionaries  to  the  church.  This,  indeed,  indi- 
cates that  a  college  can  be  true  to  Christian  principles  under  a 
denominational  tie  and  with  a  form  of  control  quite  different  fi-om 
that  in  vogue  for  more  than  a  century  among  the  Methodists.  But 
it  is  not  remarkable  that  strong  leaders  in  that  denomination 
should  resist  a  demand  which  seems  to  them,  in  essence,  to  require 
an  immediate  change  to  a  congregational  or  independent  basis  of 
administration.  They  are  hardly  ready  to  admit  that  the  general 
interests  of  education  cannot  bo  served  unless  institutions  with 
such  a  notable  aiid  honorable  scholastic  history  at  one  twist  wrench 
Ihemsclves  from  tlieir  historical  relations  and  go  on  an  entirely 


j!»10]  Denominational  Conirol  of  Colleges  227 

lic'W  basis.  That  such  is  not  quite  intoiiJcd  is  certain  from  tlie 
statement,  oft  repeated,  that  it  is  proper  to  have  such  colleges 
continue  under  '"the  friendly  aus])ices  of  the  denominations 
which  founded  them."  Inasmuch  as  the  demand  strikes  the 
]\Icthodists  more  severcdy,  perliaps,  tlian  it  conld  any  otlier  of  the 
Protestant  denominations,  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  leaders  of 
tliat  communion  have,  as  a  rule,  spoken  with  great  calmness  and 
moderation,  and  are  n..eeting  the  whole  matter  in  a  judicial 
temper,  Drake  University,  the  leading  institution  of  the  Chris- 
tian denomination,  has  made  the  necessary  changes  and  is  on  the 
"accepted  list."  Bowdoin  last  year  returned  the  endowment  of 
the  Stone  Professorship  with  interest,  the  total  amount  being 
$50,118.16,  that  a  gift  conditioned  on  the  loyalty  of  the  college 
to  the  teaching  of  the  orthodox  Congregational  or  Presbyterian 
Church  might  not  prevent  her  enlistment,  and  Bowdoin  is  now  on 
the  "accei^ted  list."  Brown  Uni\'ersity  is  said  to  have  taken  steps 
looking  toward  the  modification  of  its  charter.  The  Presbyterians 
and  the  Methodist  Church,  South,  are  in  more  or  less  confusion. 
Several  of  their  institutions  are  disjiosed  to  meet  the  requirement 
imposed  by  the  Foundation,  while  others  severely  criticise  this 
disposition ;  but  on  the  whole,  particularly  beyond  Methodist 
circles,  the  pronounced  tendency  is  to  change  charters  when  nec- 
essary, to  return,  if  need  be,  conditional  gifts,  and  to  secure,  if 
possible,  the  benefits  of  the  Carnegie  Foundation. 

In  the  Methodist  Church  a  large  percentage  of  the  natural 
constituency  is  urging  a  "stand  pat"  policy,  but  that  constituency 
is  not  accepting,  as  it  should,  the  responsibility  for  the  support  of 
the  colleges.  Xumerous  illustrations  can  be  given  where,  in  the 
raising  of  funds  amounting  to  one  quarter  to  one  half  a  million 
dollars,  in  recent  months,  the  larger  percentage  of  1he  money  has 
been  from  non-]\rethodists.  In  some  instances,  from  fifty  to 
seventy-five  per  cent  of  the  funds  secured  has  been  from  outside 
sources.  Incidentally,  this  is  a  striking  evidence  of  the  confi- 
dence of  the  public  in  these  colleges.  Ohio  Weslcyan  University 
seems  to  be  the  institution  most  conspicuously  PU])ported  by  its 
Methodist  constituency.  Those  who  seek  the  control  of  a  college 
ought  to  stand  ready  to  accept,  if  need  be,  full  resjtoiisibility  for 


2jS  McHiodisi  Review  [March 

lis  f;M>iOiinnco.  In  iliis  cDii.lition  it  is  no  woriclcr  that  some  boards 
of  lrii<ti-is  are  K'rion.-ly  considering  such  action  as  will  secure  for 
llieiis  tije  largest  financial  hencfits,  whatever  the  cost  in  the  sever- 
n:.'-i.-  of  dcncniinational  connections.  Already  college  presidents 
4*ri'  i-.\)-'.  rliMK'ing  dilncultj  in  inducing  cle.-irable  and  competent 
!!■;«  J'  Ui  t-ntcr  college  faculties  with  a  double  handicap  of  small 
^;ii;irit'ti  ii>Y  the  present  and  the  deprivation  of  such  privileges  a.^ 
tJioic  alTorded  by  retiring  allowances  at  the  end.  There  is  danger 
«.f  an  acrimonious  contest  which  may  result  in  some  of  the  larger 
atiil  t-trojiger  colleges  becoming  almost  •  completely  alienated  from 
I  111?  cl)i:i\-h,  while  a  large  numlicr  of  the  weaker  ones  separate 
li!<-Mi«cl\rs  from  public  sym])aihy,  put  themselves  beyond  the  hope 
•  f  aid  from  some  of  the  large  foundalinus,  and  leave  themselves 
I')  hnarjcial  suicide.  There  are  most  serious  questions  centering 
«.'-uund  subjection  to  conditions  which  seem  to  be  insisted  upon  by 
foino  of  these  boards.  In  the  first  place,  Is  a  purely  self-perpetu- 
ating body  of  trustees  in  any  case  the  desirable  form  of  control? 
Is  there  not  grave  danger  of  putting  great  and  largely  endowed 
i:i-(itulion?  in  the  hands  of  men  who  can  dictate  their  own  suc- 
o-r.M,rs  :iiid  who  may,  if  thus  disposed,  bring  it  to  pass  in  the 
C'Ujrsc  of  lialf  a  generation  that  an  institution  should  become  sub- 
v»r.-iv<-  of  everything  for  which  it  was  founded  ?  It  woidd  not  be 
impossible  now  to  find  institutions  where,  in  the  course  of  a  long 
hdiniiiistration  by  a  forceful  president,  the  governing  board  has 
l-^'<uii',  in  no  small  degree,  his  creature.  If  authority  to  control 
v-.\\A  nion-  and  more  carry  with  it  the  moral  obligation  of  adequate 
'  •)'!  'ri.  ilie  reverse  will  be  true,  namely,  supporters  will  control. 
lbl^  iii.licaies  the  necessity  for  a  large  contributing  constituency, 
i:  <^.| ■<-.■;  :irf  not  evor.tually  to  become  the  creatures  of  those  who 
i..no  gr.-:H  w.;dth  to  bestow.  State  institutions,  through  the  pop- 
jsl.-ir  ri.ctitin  of  regents,  arc  responsive  to  popular  will.  Ought 
v.i'  t"i  .•un>va(  to  tlie  creation  of  a  series  of  institutions  which  may 
b-.<^omc  jiun  ly  autocratic,  or  which  may,  in  time,  become  so  indif- 
it-riiii  I.,  til.-  rud  d(inands  of  the  time  that  they  shall  become  as 
>''.  -iTt( .]  ;(-;  l,;i,  Arulover  in  recent  years  ?  If  State  institjitions 
;:j>".ir  \\n-  i\A\>nvv  of  the  leadership  of  the  demagogue,  these  privat'> 
i:.'tjiuii..i!s  thus  governed  might  be  in  peril  of  the  rule  of  the 


i;i]0]  Dcnouiinalional  Coutrol  of  CuUegcs  229 

jMitocrat.  It  would  sccui  that  this  question  has  not  received 
!iri)i>cv  considei'nliou.  There  arc  others  involved  in  the  conditions 
»,r  possible  conditions  of  these  foundations.  How  far  must  iusti- 
ttuions  subnn't  to  their  dictation?  What  degree  of  institutional 
liberty  will  finally  be  granted?  Is  there  danger  of  relinquishing 
<  fclesiastical  conti'ol  for  a  more  serious  external  control — a  possi- 
!-lc  change  of  masters  without  diminution  of  discomfort  to  the 
servant?  I  understand  the  Carnegie  Foundation  has  made  some 
notable  changes  at  the  recent  meetiiig.  What  will  be  the  final  cou- 
tent  of  their  demands?  It  is  not  a  misfortune  that  the  large 
foundations  have  spoken  on  this  subject.  Senator  ]\oot  well  said 
recently:  ^^Thc  essential  process  of  free  government  is  free  dis- 
f.'ussiou.  Discussion  confined  to  people  of  the  same  way  of  think- 
ing, with  the  same  interests,  the  same  purposes  and  prejudices, 
tends  only  to  strengthen  their  common  difference  from  all  others 
and  to  increase  the  divergence  between  different  groups  of  our 
}>cople;  but  discussion,  information,  sincere  and  earnest  attempts 
to  get  at  each  other's  minds  and  to  learn  as  well  as  to  teach,  aniong 
people  of  differer.t  poi]its  of  view^this  leads  to  that  common 
]fublic  opinion  whose  expression  in  the  end  comes  nearest  to  being 
the  voice  of  God  that  man  has  ever  attained."  We  can  only  profit 
by  such  full  and  free  discussion.  It  is  of  equal  importance  to  all 
tlie  denominations.  The  future  of  Protestant  Christianity  in 
America  and  the  problem  of  the  retention  of  a  definitely  Christian 
element  in  education  is,  perhaps,  more  seriously  involved  than 
many  good  men  realize.  It  is  well,  therefore,  to  call  attention  to 
the  fact  that  the  present  method  of  ecclesiastical  control,  difTei*- 
ing  widely  in  different  denominations,  largely  through  Conference 
election  or  approval  of  trustees  in  Methodist  institutions,  gives 
no  adequate  or  modern  supervision.  In  many  cases  it  is  an  embar- 
rassment without  compensating  advantages.  It  is  defective  for 
Its  intended  purpose.  It  docs  not  even  assure  a  safe  and  business- 
like management.  The  business  methods  of  some  of  the  institu- 
tions ought  to  be  a  source  of  j'oignant  grief  to  us,  if  not  of  shame; 
•■'Ut  some  whose  methods  and  sliiudai'ds  are  most  open  to  criticism 
have  self-per})clnating  boards  of  trnslees.  Though  under  tlie 
JMKpiees  of  the  church,  they  are  under  no  Conference  control  and 


230  MciJiodisl  lie  view  [March 

have  no  denominalioiunl  tests  for  members  of  the  governing  board. 
Among  the  trustees  of  colleges  of  this  type  are  able  men,  but  thcv 
are  directors  who  do  not  direct.  Such  cases  convince  one  that 
ecclesiat-tical  control  is,  to  say  the  least,  not  the  only  defect,  and 
that  Ave  need  to  look  more  deeply  into  the  subject  before  we  decide 
on  the  iinal  and  elTectivc  system. 

Xot  infrequently  men  without  that  adecpiate  educational 
discipline  or  that  openness  to  new  truth  which  enables  them  to 
judge  Avisely  attack  the  noblest  teachers  in  a  sejisational  way,  to 
the  great  injury  of  the  institutioji.  Whoever  officially  looks  into 
the  educational  or  busiuess  maiifigemcnt  of  Methodist  colleges 
must  see  the  possible  or  actual  defects  of  present  methods  of  con- 
trol. T  speak  now  of  ]\[ethodist  colleges  because  it  would  be 
nngracious  in  me  to  make  such  statements  concerning  others,  but 
Methodists  are  probably  not  the  only  sufferers.  It  ought  to  be 
impossible  for  a  college  ])resident  to  plunge  an  institution  seri- 
ously into  debt  without  the  knowledge  of  the  trustees.  There 
ought  to  be  some  ]-esponsible  and  competent  body  who  would 
select  professors  with  such  foresight  and  care  as  to  guard  us 
against  immature  or  erratic  men  in  professorial  chairs,  and 
against  that  all  too  large  class  who,  in  the  name  of  intellectual 
freedom,  pose  as  original  thinkers  and  teach  conclusions  which  are 
not  infrequently  long-discarded  theories  utterly  subversive  of  the 
truth.  On  the  other  hand,  there  should  be  adequate  protection 
for  the  tried,  sane,  safe  investigator  who  can  discover  new  facts, 
who  has  the  courage  to  state  and  defend  new  truth,  and  who  dis- 
tinguishes between  proved  truth  and  tentative  hypothesis.  Such  ;i 
man  alone  can  beget  within  his  jnijnls  the  true  Protestant  spirit  of 
opeii-mindedness  to  new  truth  while  he  anchors  thi-m  to  unshaken 
fundamentals.  Our  present  methods  of  control  in  many  cases 
assure  neither  pro]->cr  liberty  to  a  faculty  nor  proper  protection  to 
the  public  who  intrust  their  children  to  these  colleges.  Take  this 
pathetic  picture.  Half  a  dozen  boys  and  girls,  as  bright  and  as 
capable  as  any  the  nation  aflord^,  are  awakened  by  some  pastor 
or  by  some  effective  college  agent  to  the  necessity  of  a  better  prep- 
aration for  life.  They  are  turned  toward  a  so-called  college.  lu 
those  unsuspecting  years  they  havi'  little  or  no  conception  of  what 


1910]  Dcnominoi'ional  Control  of  Colleges  231 

really  constitutes  either  a  college  or  an  education.  They  wend 
their  way  to  "Meadow  Hill  College" ;  they  spend  eight  years,  the 
only  eight  they  will  ever  have  for  this  purpose.  They  develop  the 
youthful  sense  of  loyalty  ''to  the  institution" ;  they  learn  its  yells, 
join  in  its  contests,  and  are  gciiuinc  in  their  enthusiasuj.  They 
have  seen  nothing  better.  In  due  time  they  receive  diplonuis. 
The  degrees  for  which  those  diplomas  stand  are  conferred  amid  the 
plaudits  of  acclaiming  friends  and  often  before  a  larger  concourse 
than  gathers  at  some  of  the  notable  institutions  of  the  country. 
These  young  people  are  made  to  believe  that  they  are  adequately 
prepared  for  the  world's  work  in  the  twentieth  century  M'hen,  in 
large  measure,  they  have  neither  the  method,  the  content,  nor  the 
spirit  of  such  a  training.  It  is  all  very  well  to  say  that  they  have 
received  other  things  which  constitute  "an  equivalent,"  l.nit  the 
choice  should  not  be  between  mental  discipline,  breadth  of  culture, 
and  these  "other  things."  The  Christian  college,  if  true  to  its 
mission,  stands  for  the  completest  education.  Its  first  principle 
is,  or  should  be,  moral  honesty  and  intellectual  integrity.  With 
due  attention  to  the  matters  herein  set  forth,  and  with  the  asser- 
tion of  bona-fide  moral  and  religious  standards,  which  apply  not 
only  to  devotional  Kabits  but  to  college  equipment,  to  the  content 
of  the  college  course,  and  to  the  actual  classification  of  our  insti- 
tutions for  what  they  really  are,  the  Christian  college  would  be  the 
strongest  and  most  permanent  educational  influence  in  the  land. 
The  purpose  of  administration  is  to  secure  the  ends  for  which  the 
institution  stands.  "Without  reference  to  the  Carnegie  Founda- 
tion, or  any  other,  we  need  a  discussion  and  a  reformation  of  our 
methods  in  these  particulars.  If  some  system  of  efficient  direction 
through  trustee  election  by  the  alumni,  or  through  a  more  efficient 
and  democratic  method  of  election  by  the  denomination,  can  be 
devised,  or  if  we  can  leave  the  corporation  to  self-perpetuation 
after  drafting  some  demncratic  and  educational  safeguards,  the 
day  is  at  hand  for  the  scheme.  We  are  all  agreed  that  we  do  not 
wish  to  be  narrowly  scctai-ian.  On  the  othei"  hand,  are  we  to 
concede  that  a  denomiiiatidu  which,  by  great  labor,  by  a  tender 
solicitude  worthy  of  a  mother,  by  generous  and  often  sacrificial 
gifts,  has  created  and  fostered  an  institution,  must  hand  it  over 


233  ^fcnwdlsl  L'eview  [March 

to  a  new  systcni  of  control,  content  only  to  have  relations  of 
friendly  sympalhy  with  it  ^  Arc  we  persuaded  that  educational 
efhciency  for  the  fiiliirc  demands  this?  or  can  those  denominations 
whicli  have  shown  themselves  educational  leaders  in  the  earlier 
history  of  our  nation  devise  a  modified  system  of  control  suited  to 
our  age  -which  will  conserve  that  for  v/liich  they  established  these 
colleges,  while  securing  all  that  is  just  in  the  demands  of  the^e 
educational  reformers?  Ujifortunately,  "denominationar'  and 
"sectarian"  arc  terms  almost  hopelessly  confounded  in  the  public 
mind.  It  is  possible  to  devise  a  scheme  which  will  eliminate  both 
terms  while  assuring  vital  Christian  control  and  adequate  support. 
We  want  no  mercenary  or  servile  spirit,  but  it  is  a  time  for  all 
denominations  to  cooperate.  "What  is  good  for  one  is  likely  to  be 
good  for  all.  The  Laymen's  ]\[issiouary  ]\Iovement  is  showing 
how  denominations  can  cooperate.  Why  not  a  united  Christian 
movement  for  eflicient  and  modern  control  of  Christian  colleges — 
a  method  of  control  which  will  leave  faculties  unhampered  in 
modern  statements  of  truth  and  in  free  investigation,  while  at  the 
same  time  insuring  us  against  the  subversion  of  fundamental 
Christian  principles,  which  will  be  a  guarantee  for  sound  and 
progressive  educational  policies  and  standards,  and  which  will 
aj^peal,  as  the  present  system  does  not  appeal,  to  men  of  means, 
men  of  sterling  business  methods,  and  men  of  broad  Christian 
ideals.  These  Christian  institutions,  moreover,  are  the  expression 
of  the  conviction  of  a  very  large  percentage  of  our  American  citi- 
zenship that  education  is  not  and  cannot  be  complete  without  the 
religious  element.  Any  movement  which  tends  toward  purely 
secular  education,  or  which  promises,  designedly  or  undesignedly, 
however  gTaduall_y,  to  eliminate  the  distinctively  Christian  factor 
in  education,  must  and  will  be  resisted  at  any  cost.  Weighing 
everything  the  great  foundations  have  said,  estimating  our  own 
difficulties,  let  us  acce[)t  their  ciaiditions,  if  we  can,  after  devising 
a  way  to  safeguard  that  for  which  we  exist.  If  we  cannot,  let  us 
go  to  our  own  people  with  a  well-thonght-out  scheme  and  say  to 
them,  "If  you  believe  in  this,  and  want  it  per])etuated,  you  must 
finance  it."  Would  that  we  might  move  with  such  expedition  as 
to  have  each  wait  until  all  could  move  too'ether.     Meantime,   if 


rJlO]  DenominaHoiuil  Conirol  of  Colleges  23? 

any  given  institution  fcols  that  its  pressing  iiitcrests  demand 
ininiediale  modification  of  charter,  onr  spirit  should  he  so  irenic  as 
to  prevent  alienation  and  to  insure  cooperation  later.  Will  not 
Avell-to-do  men  of  the  churches  take  this  matter  as  sei-iously  as  it 
deserves  <  This  is  a  time  when  the  best  Christian  brain  of  the 
country  should  give  consideration  to  the  subjo^ct  and  back  uj)  its 
conviction  with  its  gifts.  Xo  more  important  question  caii  engage 
the  attention  of  Ckristian  men  in  this  generation. 

The  College  Presidents'  Association  of  the  Methodist  E]»is- 
copal  Chu]-ch  has  a  committee,  consisting  of  Dr.  John  F.  Goucher, 
President  xVbram  W.  Ilai-ris,  President  Herbert  Welch,  and  the 
corresponding  secretary  of  the  Board  of  Education,  giving  careful 
attention  to  the  problem,  and  it  was  the  subject  of  earnest  consid- 
eration at  the  last  animal  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Education. 
Thoughtful  and  well-considered  opinion  of  any  sort  bearing  on  a 
subject  of  such  moment  will  be  welcomed  by  the  committee. 


C/^^^^^Tf^^s^    Cyf^.^^''H^^rd<i^ei7oC 


234  MeOiodisf  neview  [:M:arch 


Akt.  v.— the  case  of  the  METHODIST  EPTSCOPxVL 
CHURCH 

The  "Methodist  Fcdcralion  Faroe"  is  the  descriptive  title 
given  ]\y  the  Pacific  C^hristiaii  Advocate  of  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  South,  to  the  ])re?eiit  laudable  effort  of  the  two 
Jilethodist  Episcopal  Churches  to  adjust  their  differeuces  and  heal 
the  wouuds  of  fifty  years.  The  occasion  for  this  denunciation  of 
federation  is  that  a  Southern  ^lethodist  church  near  Los  Angeles, 
California,  of  some  three  hundied  members,  went  over  in  a  body 
to  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  It  is  needless  to  say  they 
were  not  induced  to  come,  nor  was  their  determination  seriously 
considered  until  they  had  affirmed  that  if  they  were  not  received 
they  would  form  themselves  into  an  independent  Methodist 
Church.  Possibly,  if  the  Pacific  Advocate  had  known  of  federa- 
tion in  ]\[issouri,  through  the  application  of  which  several  Metho- 
dist Episcopal  churches  had  gone  over  to  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  and  one  here  and  there  of  that  church  had  trans- 
ferred to  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and  all  this  on  the 
approval  of  Southern  Methodist  bishops,  he  would  have  practiced 
a  little  more  rigid  economy  of  invective  and  a  larger  expenditure 
.of  judicial  fairness.  Certainly,  that  which  is  indorsed  by  bishops 
and  ministers  of  the  ]\rethodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  in  Mis- 
souri, where  members  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  change 
to  the  Church  South  cannot  be  complained  of  when  members  of 
that  church  in  California  come  over  in  a  body  to  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church.  If  the  principles  of  federation  apply  at  all, 
they  apply  equally  to  both  churches. 

The  editor  of  the  Xashville  Christian  Advocate  has  also  pro- 
nounced federation,  as  we  understand,  it,  a  farce,  and  "will  have 
none  of  it,"  for  tlie  reason,  it  seems,  that  federation  does  not  signify 
annihilation  of  the  !Methodist  Episco])al  Church  in  the  white  Con- 
ferences of  the  South.  Critirlsi ng  some  utterance  of  Dr.  James 
^r.  Buckley  in  a  ^Missionary  Committee,  he  says: 

]")r.  Buckley  intimates  that  the  acceptance  by  the  Methodist  rpiscopal 
Church,  South,  of  the  provisions  of  the  recent  Plan  of  Federation   is  an 


11)10]        The  Case  of  Ihc  Mclliodlst  Episcopal  Church  235 

adniissiou  by  that  church  of  the  right  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
(o  be  iu  the  South.  If  he  really  thinks  so — which  we  doubt — he  is  nnich 
nilstalcen.  That  plan  was  devised  to  allay  friction  along  the  border  be- 
tween the  two  churches,  and  in  the  West  where  there  is  no  dividing  line. 
The  territory  recognized  in  1844  as  that  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  is  still  ours. 

Isow,  the  question  naturally  arises,  Wliy  this  attack  on 
federation  and  this  harking  baek  on  all  occa.--io)is  to  1S4-1?  Since 
that  epochal  date  the  world  has  wandered  far,  and  to  thousands 
of  Methodists  iii  both  churches  the  events  of  those  days  are  ahnost 
as  legendary  as  the  fair  deeds  of  King  Arthur's  knights,  and  not 
nearly  so  interc.-ting  as  tales  of  "moving  accidents  by  flood  and 
field"  told,  in  Desdeuiona's  ear. 

In  the  interests  of  peace  and  good  will  such  attacks  have  been 
ignored  as  editorial  expressions  of  individual  opinion,  and  as  in 
no  sense  the  judgment  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South, 
or  of  its  Conimissions  on  Federation,  for  a  more  surprising  mis- 
apprehension of  fact  could  not  well  be  conceived  than  this  ii^ter- 
pretation  of  the  purpose  of  federation  by  the  2s  ashville  Christian 
Advocate.  It  may  be  not  improper  to  state  that  for  twelve  years  the 
writer  was  secretary  of  the  Commission  on  Federation  appointed 
by  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  and  also  at  the  same  time 
one  of  the  secretaries  of  the  Joint  Commission  of  the  two  churches. 
Due  regard  to  possible  future  complications  and  misunderstand- 
ings which  may  arise  from  this  interpretation  compels  the  affirma- 
tion that  the  statement  of  the  Xashville  Advocate  is  not  in  harmony 
with  the  facts.  Had  such  been  the  understanding,  it  is  quite  likely 
that  the  Joint  Commission  would  not  have  convened  again  after 
its  first  meeting.  If  the  commissioners  of  the  Church  South  had 
any  such  views,  they  never  expressed  them.  Border  lines  only 
had  nothing  to  do  with  our  purposes  or  discussions  or  conclusions, 
for  the  very  simple  and  sufficient  reason  that  they  do  not  exist. 
Xo  such  limitation,  with  its  corollaries,  of  federation  was  ever 
expressed  by  either  church.  It  does  not  appear  in  tlie  resolutions 
of  eithc]-  General  Conference  providing  for  tlie  commission.  It 
does  not  apjiear  in  any  report  emanating  fi-oin  that  commission. 
It  is,  as  Max  Xordau  says  of  i!^ietzsehe's  originality,  simply  "an 
inversion  of  a  j'ational  train  of  thomiht."     'J'hc  resolution  of  the 


236  Mcllwdist  Bcvicw  []\rarch 

General  Conference  of  the  Church  South  providiug  for  llie  Coui- 
niission  refute-  it.    That  resolution  reads: 

Resolved,  That  this  commission  shall  have  po'^'cr  to  enter  into  nego- 
tiations with  said  commission  from  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  if 
cue  shall  be  appointed,  and  v/itb  similar  commissions  from  other  Metho- 
dist bodies,  with  a  view  to  abating  hurtful  competition  and  waste  of  men 
and  money  in  home  and  foreign  fields. 

There  is  no  reference  to  ''hoi-der"  here  respecting  the  church,  as 
there  is  not  for  ''other  Methodist  bodies."  The  scope  is  general. 
It  embraces  home  and  foreign  fields.  The  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church  is  everwhere  in  tlie  South — from  the  Potomac  to  the  Rio 
Grande,  from  the  Ohio  Ivivcr  to  Tam})a  J^u}' — aud  has  been  for 
well-nigh  forty  years.  The  acts  of  the  Joint  Commission  also 
refute  such  an  iiiterpretation,  if  further  refutation  were  needed. 
The  fundamental  agreement  of  that  commission,  and  adopted  by 
both  churches,  reads : 

Resolved,  That  -we  recommend  to  the  respective  General  Conferences 
to  enact  provisions  to  the  effect  that  where  either  church  is  doing  the 
work  expected  of  Methodism,  the  other  church  shall  not  organize  a  society 
or  erect  a  church  building  until  the  bishops  of  the  two  churches  in  charge 
of  that  field  have  been  consulted. 

But  such  erroneous  views,  and  the  gToundless  accusations  which 
the  church  has  become  accustomed  to  and  has  patiently  borne  for 
decades,  might  even  yet  be  ignored  were  it  not  that  unchallenged 
l)erversions  of  history  long  continued  become  in  time  accepted 
fact.  There  is  also  another  reason.  For  many  years  ceaseless 
complaint  has  been  made  against  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
for  maintaining  her  v.-ork  in  the  South,  and  this,  with  her  respect- 
ful but  fii-m  refusal  to  accept  the  interpretation  of  the  Church 
South  of  the  events  of  1841,  seems  now  to  have  become  the  agreed- 
upon  method  by  which  parii.'^an  editors  hope  to  achieve  their  ends, 
the  reversal  of  hi.-tory,  grant  of  further  concessions  on  the  ground 
of  concessions  ali-eady  obtained,  and  the  withdrawal  of  the  Metho- 
dist Episcopal  Church  from  the  white  Conferences  in  the  South. 
The  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  the  South,  however,  in  no 
wise  deti-acts  from  eithi-i-  the  usefulness  or  the  dignity  of  the  Church 
South,  wliich  we  honor  for  its  Christian  heroism  and  fidelity  to 
the   gospel,    nor   would   our   withdrawal    to-morrow  enrich    it    or 


1010]        The  Case  of  Ihc  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  237 

strciigtbcn   it,    or   remove   by    an   iucli   the    obstacles   to    organic 
uniuii. 

Kow,  in  turning  aside  for  a  moment  from  more  congenial 
themes — since  the  issue  is  forced  upon  us — to  interpret  the  facts 
of  history  and  describe  the  situation  as  it  exists,  we  may  inquire 
what  are  the  basal  facts  beneatli  all  tliis  contention  ?  llepresenta- 
tive  journalists  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  deuiand 
that  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  shall  withdraw  her  juris- 
diction from  the  South,  leaving,  if  she  desires,  only  the  colored 
Conferences.  That  is,  the  church  must  surrender  200,000  native- 
born  members,  thousands  of  Sunday  schools,  nearly  $9,000,000 
in  schools  and  church  property,  or  dispose  of  it  in  some  way — - 
which  would  involve  endless  litigation,  stultify  her  entire  history', 
the  solemn  affirmations  of  her  bishops  and  officials  and  pastors,  and 
all  her  Annual  and  General  Conference  acts  arjd  declarations  for 
the  space  of  more  than  sixty  years.  All  this  must  be  done,  it  is 
affirmed,  before  genuine  and  lasting  fraternity  can  be  assured, 
because  it  is  insisted : 

I.  That  the  General  Conference  of  1844  divided  the  chiirch.  That 
in  thus  dividing  the  church  it  was  agreed  that  all  the  territory  occupied 
by  the  Southern  Conferences,  and  the  membership  and  property  of  the 
same,  were  to  be  under  the  sole  jurisdiction  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  as  was  afterward  decided  by  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States. 

II.  That  the  IMethodist  Episcopal  Church  has  violated  this  agreement 
of  the  Plan  of  Separation  to  this  day  through  her  bishops  and  pastors 
and  General  Conference  action,  by  invading  the  South  and  establishing 
churches  and  Annual  Conferences  therein. 

III.  That  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  in  contempt  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  still  claims  to  be  the  original  l^lotho- 
dist  Episcopal  Church,  thereby  denying  the  division  and  making  the 
Church  South  a  secession  from  that  body,  by  continuous  dating  of  her 
General  Conference  and  other  official  documents  from  the  founding  of  the 
church  in  17S4  instead  of  from  1S45;  and  that  notwithstanding  relocated 
protestations  of  fraternity  and  appointment  of  Commissions  on  Federation 
she  has  not  yet  withdrawn  from  the  territory  of  the  Methodist  Episco])al 
Church,  South. 

Such  are  the  issues  and  such  arc  the  demands  kept  alive  and 
insisted  upoii  by  representatives  of  the  Church  South.  It  is 
needless  to  say,  perhaps,  that  such  ancient  controversies  are  not 


238  Methodist  llcvicw  [:Mareh 

issues  at  all  at  the  ])rcseiit  Jay  with  the  jMethodist  Epi?eo];al 
Church,  they  having  been  long  since  deterniincd  and  settled  rinally 
by  her  in  various  General  Conference  and  other  official  action. 
Nevertheless,  it  appeals  to  the  highest  reason,  that  if  the  Methodist 
Episcojial  Church  has  done  wrong,  she  should  submit  to  the 
dictates  of  reason.  We  arc  not  responsible  for  the  v.-ron.gs  of  the 
past,  but  for  perpetuating  those  wrongs,  thus  making  them- our 
own.  But  if  the  church  has  not  done  wrong,  nor  is  doing  wrong 
now,  any  attempt  under  any  giiisc  or  plea  to  reverse  the  facts  of 
history  and  surrender  to  such  demands  is  for  the  church  to  insti- 
tute a  new  and  moi-e  tremendous  wrong,  a  wrong  outwronging  all 
other  wrongs,  for  then  she  would  be  not  only  breaking  faith  with 
200,000  of  her  people  but  would  be  also  confessing  to  evil  doings 
which  she  did  not  commit  and  cannot  condone.  The  !Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  cannot  tlnis  write  her  own  condemnation,  and 
thereby  invite  that  penalty  which  sooner  or  later  comes  to  all  who 
betray  the  truth,  whether  that  truth  be  religious,  scientific,  or  his- 
torical. The  General  Coi:)fereuce  of  184-1  faced  grave  questions. 
Slavery  in  tho  ejiiscopacy  was  the  issue.  On  that  issue  the  Con- 
ference; divided  into  two  antagonistic,  irreconcilable  forces.  It  was 
an  irrepressible  conflict.  The  ages  had  been  leading  up  to  it. 
Xeither  side  could  yield.  They  may  have  made  mistakes.  But 
the  dramaiis  persona-  in  that  combination  of  events  were  Christian 
men,  and  they  did  the  best  they  could  with  the  light  or  the  half- 
lights  before  them.  Back  of  them  were  the  monumenta  of  many 
yesterdays — Eli  Whitney's  cotton  gin,  which  in  a  truer  sense  than 
Victor  Hugo  said  of  Waterloo,  was  a  change  of  front  of  the  uni- 
verse; the  consecpicnt  tidal  rise  in  values  in  lands  and  slaves,  the 
readjustment  of  conscience,  the  struggle  for  power,  and — the  ^Mis- 
souri  Compromise.  But  great  as  may  have  been  their  blunders, 
it  is  a  yet  greater  Idunder  to  force  upon  us  at  this  day  an  accept- 
ance of  those  blundei's;  to  attcm])t  to  force  us  to  recognize  that"  as 
a  virtue  which  the  fathers  condemned,  to  pay  a  note  the  fathers 
never  signed. 

I.  Xow,  that  the  CJeneral  Conference,  by  formal  act.  did,  as 
far  as  it  was  able,  divide  llir  funds  of  the  church  is  an  indisputable 
fact;  that   it  h.nd  the  constilufional   anthoritv  to  do,   and   it   was 


lUlO]        Tlte  Case  of  (he  Mclhodhl  Episcopal  Cliurch  2.'39 

right  tlint  it  should  do  fco.  lint  that  the  General  Conference  of 
18-14  divided  the  clmrcli  is  not  an  indispntable  fact.  It  is  one  thing- 
for  the  ])rodigal  son  to  cunio  to  his  fallier  and  say,  "Father,  gi\  e 
nic  the  portion  of  goods  that  falleth  to  me,"  and  then  leave  Ins 
father's  house  on  his  own  responsibility,  and  quite  another  and 
ditferent  thing  for  the  father  to  eiiter  into  a  compact  "with  him  to 
withdraw  from  the  parental  home.  The  division  of  the  family  was 
the  act  of  the  son,  not  of  the  father,  though  the  father  provided 
for  the  son,  should  he  assume  that  responsibility.  The  division 
of  the  family  was  the  act  of  one,  the  division  of  the  ])roperty  the 
act  of  both.  The  father  had  no  right  to  expel  the  son  from  his 
home ;  he  did  possess  the  right  to  i^rovidc  for  him  if  he  went.  This 
is  what  the  General  Conference  of  1844  did.  That  it  divided  the 
church  is,  as  it  appears  to  us  from  historical  data,  just  what  it  did 
not  do.  It  did  not  assemble  for  that  purpose.  It  had  neither 
delegated  nor  inherent  power  to  divide  it.  It  was  forbidden  by 
the  Constitution  to  divide  it,  for  to  circumscribe  the  church,  and 
thus  limit  the  jurisdiction  of  its  ministry  and  itinerant  general 
episcopacy,  was  to  destroy  that  episcopacy,  which  the  Constitution 
declared  '*'they  shall  not  do  away  ]ior  destroy."  The  General  Con- 
ference itself  acknowledged  it  had  no  power  to  divide  the  church. 
Dr.  Capers  had  introduced  a  resolution  to  divide  the  church  into 
Korth  and  South  under  two  General  Conferences,  but  the  General 
Conference  when  thus  brought  face  to  face  with  division  took  no 
steps  to  encourage  the  committee  and  the  resolution  came  to 
nought.  When  the  Committee  of  Xine  reported  on  the  resolution 
signed  by  the  fifty-two  delegates  from  the  thirteen  Conferences  in 
the  slave-holding  States  that  they  coidd  not  remaiu  under  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  General  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  and  presented  for  adoption  by  the  General  Conference 
the  so-called  ''Plan  of  Separation,"  Dr.  Bangs,  one  of  the  connait- 
tec,  declared  in  open  Conference  that  the  report  did  not  speak  of 
division — the  word  had  been  carefully  avoided  thi-ough  the  whole 
document ;  it  only  said,  "in  the  event  of  a  separation  taking  place." 
throwing  the  responsibility  fi-om  oft'  the  shoulders  of  the  General 
Conference  and  upoii  those  who  should  t-ay  that  such  a  sepai-ation 
was  necessary.    !Mr.  Griflith  declared  )io  one  had  the  right  to  divide 


240  Mclhodisl  Beview  [March 

tlio  cbiircli.  ;Mr.  Fillmore  said  :  ''Tlieso  resolutions  do  not  say  that 
the  South  uiust  go,  shall  go,  will  go,  or  that  anybody  wants  them  to 
go ;  it  only  makes  provision  for  such  a  contingency."  Dr.  Lucky 
considered  thai  the  resolutions  were  provisional  and  preliminary, 
settling  nothing  at  present.  "Mr.  Finley  could  see  in  the  report 
no  proposition  to  divide  the  chnrch.''  ''Mr.  Hamline  said  that  the 
connnittee  had  cai-efully  avoided  presenting  any  resolution  which 
would  embrace  the  idea  of  a  scparalion  or  division."  Dr.  Winans, 
of  the  South,  said,  "The  only  proposition  was  that  they  might  have 
liberty,  if  necessary,  to  organize  a  separate  Conference."  Dr. 
Smith,  of  the  >South,  said,  "This  General  Conference,  I  am  aware, 
has  no  authority  directly  to  effect  this  separation."  Dr.  Paine 
declared  that  he  did  n.jt  know  for  cei'tain  that  the  separation  would 
take  place.  Tie  ardently  hop.ed  that  it  would  not.  "The  separation 
would  not  be  affected  by  the  passage  of  these  resolutions  through 
the  Goieral  Conference.  They  must  pass  the  Annual  Conferences." 
(Debates  in  General  Conference  Journal,  1844,  p.  221.) 

Thus  Southern  delegates  themselves,  in  General  Conference 
and  after,  acknowledged  that  the  Conference  had  no  power  to 
divide  the  church.  It  wa?;  not  until  some  time  much  later,  when 
the  smoke  had  cleared  away  and  the  legal  consequences  involved 
had  become  apparent,  that  the  doctrines  of  the  authority  of  the 
General  Conference  to  divide  the  church  became  the  doctrine  of  the 
South.  The  evidence  on  this  is  tbat  on  July  12,  1844,  one  month 
or  so  after  the  adjournment  of  tlie  Conference,  Dr.  Paine,  one  ot 
the  foremost  leaders  of  the  South,  wrote: 

7s  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  divided?  No.  The  General  Con- 
ference had  no  power  to  divirle  ir.  Ours  was  a  delegated  power,  to  be 
exercised  luidrr  constitutional  limitation,  and  for  specific  purpose — as 
individual  delegates  wo  organized  and  acted  on  this  principle. 

On  August  2^>,   18] 4,  Dr.  J.  B.  iMcFerrin,  another  of  the  great 

leaders  of  the  South,  in  that  Conference,  and  whoui  the  writrr  had 

the  honor  to  meet  in  his  last  days,  wrote; 

To  be  sure  we  did  not  divide  the  church;  to  do  this  we  had  no  author- 
ity, but  v,'e  adojited  mcaFures  to  lay  the  matter  before  our  people. 

In  a  letter  dated  December  27, 1814,  he  again  writes:  "The  General 
Conference,  however,  did  not  divide  the  church.     It  only  made 


M.'lOj        The  Case  of  (he  ^[ethodisf  Episcopal  Church  ?Al 

provision  for  an  amicable  separation  in  case  the  Southern  Con- 
ferences found  it  necessary  to  form  distinct  organizations."  In 
the  ]\Iethodist  Quanerly  Review  (South)  for  January,  1910, 
however,  Dr.  Gross  Alexander,  book  editor  of  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  South,  and  editor  of  that  Review,  in  a  very 
temperate  article  on  the  General  Conference  of  1814  says  that 
the  Committee  of  Xine  to  whom  was  referred  the  "Declaration" 
of  the  Southern  delegates  above  referred  to  "was  insirucicd"  by 
the  Conference  "to  devise,  if  possible,  a  constitutional  plan  for  a 
i.'Uitual  and  friendly  division  of  the  church,  provided  they  cannot 
in  their  judgment  devise  a  plan  for  an  amicable  adjustment  of  the 
difficulty  now  existing  in  the  church  on  the  subject  of  slavery." 
After  three  days  of  deliberation  the  connnittee  presented  their 
report  which  is  knov/n  as  the  historic  "Plan  of  Separation." 

Conclusive  arguments  demolishing  our  contention  are  built 
upon  this  resolution,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  if  its  solidity 
is  anything  more  than  that  of  castles  and  fortresses  one  sees  tower- 
ing high  in  summer  clouds,  it  is  a  conclusive  argument  for  the 
Church  South  as  far  as  it  goes.  But  while  this  statement  of  Dr. 
Gross  Alexander  has  the  support  of  the  official  journal,  it  is  both 
inaccurate  and  misleading.  It  makes  the  General  Conference  con- 
tradict itself;  it  makes  Dr.  Hamline,  one  of  the  Committee  of 
Xine,  contradict  all  that  he  had  said  and  to  antagonize  his  well- 
ki)own  position.  It  makes  it  appear  that  the  connnittee  reported 
according  to  instructions  to  devise  a  constitutional  division  of  the 
clmrch,  whereas  the  committee  makes  no  leference  Avhatever  in 
its  report  to  this  resolution  offered  by  Dr.  McFerrin  to  devise 
such  a  plan.  It  disclainis  all  intention  to  divide  the  church,  but 
specifically  mentions  that  its  report  is  on  the  "declaration"  of  the 
Southern  delegates. 

The  select  Committee  of  Nine  to  consider  and  report  on  the  dedara- 
ti'm  of  the  delegates  from  the  Conferences  of  the  slave-holding  States  beg 
leave  to  present  the  follov.ing  report: 

'iVhcreas,  A  declaration  has  been  presented  to  this  General  Confer- 
f^ucc,  etc.     (Journal,  1844,  p.  217.) 

i  lie  re.sobition  by  Dr.  M'.-Tcrrin,  however,  to  devise,  if  possible,  a 
f''>iistitulional  j.lan  fur  the  divioion  of  Ihi-  church,  was  presented. 


242  Methodist  Review  [Ifarcli 

But  Dr.  Hanilinc  aroso  and  said :  ''I  will  not  go  out  M^ith  the  com- 
mittee under  such  instructions."  Dr.  Peck  said:  '^]^t  the  Gcncrxl 
CoDfereuce  beware.  This  ia  a  proposition  to  coniniit  this  Con- 
ference to  a  division  of  the  church.  We  are  sent  here  to  conserve 
the  church,  not  to  divide  it."  The  resolution  was  finally  amended 
so  as  to  provide  for  a  constitutional  division  of  the  funds.  By 
niistakcj  not  accounted  for,  the  resolution  appeared  in  the  Journal 
in  its  original,  not  its  amended  form.  Dr.  Hamline,  in  the 
absence  of  the  secretary,  called  Dr.  Bangs's  attention  to  the  error. 
Bangs  was  reluctant  to  interfere.  Ilaraline  j)oiuted  out  the  letral 
possibilities  of  tlic  error,  but,  being  a  young  member  of  the  Con- 
ference, he  refrained  from  further  expostulation,  and  the  error 
remained  in  the  Jourjial  to  be  employed  later  in  the  courts. 
(Biography  Bishop  Hamline,  Bidgaway,  p.  13-19.  See  also  Bi-hop 
Peck's  statement  in  Methodist  Quarterly  Beview,  1870.) 

Now,  an  intelligent  study  of  the  relation  of  tlic  General  Cou- 
ference  to  the  church  will  show  that  even  if  the  General  Con- 
ference had  intentionally  adopted  a  report  dividing  the  church, 
that  would  not  have  made  the  act  binding  on  the  church.  If  the 
next  General  Conference  voted  to  divide  the  church  East  and  West, 
would  that  be  binding  on  the  church  ?  If  the  next  General  Con- 
ference of  the  Church  South  should  adopt  a  report  to  forget  the 
past  and  unite  with  the  ^Methodist  Episcopal  Church  or  dissolve, 
would  that  bind  the  ^Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  and  would 
its  ministry  and  laity  admit  tlie  authority  of  their  General  Con- 
ference to  adopt  such  a  resolution?  As  Chief  Justice  Marshall 
declared,  it  is  something  "to  know  the  difference  between  a  govern- 
ment of  law  and  a  government  of  men."  Dr.  Paine,  of  the  South, 
and  other  Southern  leaders,  as  we  have  seen,  ackiiowledged  the 
General  Conference  was  a  delegated  body  acting  under  constitu- 
tional limitations  to  transcend  which,  they  well  knew,  would  be 
usurpation  and  revolution.  They  knew  that  they  had  neither  h  ^al 
nor  moral  riglit  to  usurj)  an  authoi-ity  beyond  that  which  was  given 
them.  If  the  power  to  divide  the  church  is  not  specifically  men- 
tioned and  expressly  denied  in  the'  "Ilestrictive  Bules,"  it  is  be- 
cause no  government  ever  provides  for  its  own  destruction ;  and 
because  it  never  entered  the  hearts  of  the  framers  of  the  Con.«titu- 


lOlOJ        The  Case  of  the  Mcthudisl  Episcopal  Church  243 

tion  that  such  an  extraordiuarj  usurping  power  would  ever  be  as- 
sumed by  a  delegated  body.  Is  it  pcssibl'-  to  assume  that  the 
Constitution  says:  "You  shall  not  change  a  single  Article  of  Ee- 
ligion,  but  you  may  destroy  the  w-holc  gospel  ?  You  ehall  not  alter 
.1  restrictive  rule,  but  you  may  destroy  the  church"  ? 

In  the  General  Conference  of  the  ^Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  1870,  the  Constitution  of  whiclj  at  that  time  was 
iho  same  as  that  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Churcli,  unchanged 
since  184:4,  Dr.  Leroy  M.  Lee,  nephew  of  Jesse  Lee  of  famous 
iriemory,  delivered  a  most  convincing  speech  on  the  powers  of  the 
General  Conference.  In  that  six'ech  he  declared,  ^'Thc  General 
Conference  is  a  dependent  and  responsible  body,  dependent  for  its 
authority  and  being  upon  the  original  body  of  elders  and  re.sponsi- 
blc  to  them  for  its  fidelity  in  the  use  of  its  j)0wers  delegated  to  it." 
In  the  absence  of  this  accountability,  ''its  responsibility  ceases,  and 
it  can  revoke,  alter,  change,  or  destroy  even  the  Constitution  itself 
at  its  own  will  and  by  its  own  act.  Such  power  was  not  given  to 
it,  nor  intended  to  be  given,"  etc.  This  speech  led  the  Church 
South  to  adopt  a  resolution  providing  for  episcopal  veto.  But  the 
church  did  not  then  perceive,  or  else  it  ignored,  the  Trojan  horse 
in  the  accepted  reasons  underlying  the  resolution  adopted — that, 
in  admitting  Dr.  Lee's  contention,  which  was  the  solo  reason  for 
episcopal  veto,  they  completely  reversed  their  position  on  the 
powers  of  the  General  Conference  of  1844.  For  in  adopting  the 
principles  underlying  this  act  of  1870  the  Church  South  acknowl- 
edged that  the  General  Conference  is  a  dependent  and  res]>on- 
j^iblc  body,  that  it  does  not  possess  all  power;  that  all  power  is  not 
delegated  to  it  by  the  ministry.  Upon  this  principle  the  Church 
South  established  the  veto  power  of  its  episcopacy.  But  the  dis- 
•  ntegi-ating  question  is,  If  the  General  Conference  of  1870  did  not 
IK)ssess  all  this  power,  how  could  such  power  be  possessed  and  law- 
fully exercised  by  the  General  Conference  of  1844 — the  power,  not 
'•un})ly  to  change,  alter,  or  destroy  a  restrictive  rule,  but  the  far 
gixater  power  to  change,  alter,  or  destroy  the  church  ?  Further- 
more, in  the  interests  of  justice  it  should  be  stated  that  the  "Plan 
'•f  Separation"  v/as  never  com])letcd,  and  could  not,  therefore, 
l»c<-onie  legally  effective  in  the  church.     Our  Southern  Methodist 


244:  Methodist  Bcvicxu  [ilarch 

friends  should  conscientiously  poiider  tLfsc  historic  facts.  Before 
the  vote  was  couiijleled  the  Southern  Conferences  had  left  the 
church  and  organized  a  distinct  ecclesiastical  connection  of  their 
own,  thus  preventing  completion  of  the  vote,  foi-  many  Conferences 
refused  to  vote,  lest  their  act  should  be  construed  as  an  indorse- 
ment of  separation.  On  the  first  of  May,  1S15,  delegates  from 
the  thirteen  Ainiual  Conferences  in  the  slave-holding  States  met 
in  Louisville,  Kentucky,  in  what  is  known  as  the  Louisville  Con- 
vention, aiid  there  by  their  own  act,  and  not  by  any  specific  act 
of  the  General  Conference,  they  assumed  the  responsibility  of 
dividing  the  church,  and  did  organize  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South. 

In  connection  with  this  it  is  asserted  by  Southern  Methodist 
■wi'iters,  that,  in  accordance  with  a  well-established  principle  of 
law,  which  is  that  every  person  intends  the  natural,  and  necessary, 
and  even  probable  consequences  of  his  act,  the  General  Conference 
of  1844  was  a  parly  to  tlie  Louisville  Convention,  since  that  Con- 
vention was  a  con^^equence  of  the  General  Conference's  act.  Xow, 
wc  shall  not  dispute  a  common-sense  principle  recogiiized  by  em- 
inent jurists  in  England  aiid  America,  but  for  obvious  reasons  we 
must  deny  its  application  to  the  case  before  us.  Every  act  coming 
within  the  compass  of  law  or  morals  must  be  a  rational  act. 
A  lunatic  is  not  responsible  for  his  act?.  It  must  be  an  intentional 
act.  Accidents  are  not  crimes.  Hence,  to  say  that  the  General 
Conference  by  a  certain  act  intended  to  divide  the  church,  is  to 
assume  the  very  thing  in  dispute,  to  beg  the  whole  question,  to 
assert  the  ^•ery  thing  we  deny,  and  which  we  have  clearly  shown 
by  the  testimony  of  delegates  of  that  Conference,  both  Xorth  and 
South,  the  General  Conference  did  not  do.  This  legal  principle, 
therefoi-e,  does  not  apply  to  this  case,  and  the  General  Conference 
which  was  not  represented  in  the  Louisville  Convenlion  cannot  be 
held  as  a  party  to  the  nets  of  that  Convention.  The  declaration, 
however,  is  trium])hantly  made  that  no  matter  what  is  said  of  the 
intentions  and  ])owers  and  acts  of  the  General  Conference,  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  has  decided  that  the  General 
Conference  of  18L^  had  the  ])ower  and  did  divide  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Chni-ch,     This  is  supposed  to  be  final.     But  we  do  not 


1010]       The  Case  of  the  McOiodist  Episcopal  Church  245 

thiiik  it  is  final.  History  is  not  subject  to  courts.  Ciesar  did  live. 
Xapoleon  did  cross  the  Alps.  Even  the  brilliant  effort  of  Froude 
in  several  volumes  to  reconstruct  the  character  of  Henry  VIII, 
to  make  Queen  Elizabeth  a  saint  and  her  victim,  Queen  IvLary, 
something  else,  cannot  change  the  facts.  What  is  done  is  done, 
and  no  power  can  make  it  other  than  it  was.  jnTo  Anglican  scntl- 
nient,  however  worthy,  can  change  Macaulay's  portrait  of  Arch- 
bishop Laud.  The  Supreme  Court,  it  is  admitted,  did  declare  as 
above.  But  the  ease  in  equity  before  that  court,  however,  was  on 
the  division  of  the  funds  of  the  Book  Concern  and  not  on  the 
division  of  the  church.  That  decision  of  the  court  was  readily 
accepted  and  the  money  paid  to  the  Church  South.  But  the 
ohiter  dicta,  propia  dicta,  or  gratis  dicta  of  the  court  concerning 
the  division  of  the  church,  its  extrajudicial  declarations,  reason- 
ings, and  inferences  concerning  the  pov/ers  of  the  General  Con- 
ference have  never  been  accepted  by  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  nor  does  it  appear  they  ever  can  be.  She  renders  and 
must  "render  unto  Caesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar's,  and  unto  God 
the  things  that  are  God's.''  But  there  is  no  union  of  church  and 
state  in  this  country.  Outside  a  legal  decision  on  a  disputed  case 
submitted  to  that  exalted  tribunal,  its  obiter  dicta  or  gratis  dicta 
have  no  legal  force  as  an  interpretatioii  of  the  history  and  doctrines 
and  constitution  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church;  otherwise 
the  cliurch  would  be  a  creature  of  the  courts  or  of  the  State,  de- 
riving her  existence  from  the  power  of  the  State  rather  than  froui 
the  authority  of  God.  Hence  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
while  obeying  the  legal  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  in  the  case 
in  equity  before  it,  has  never  accepted  the  doctrine  that  her  exist- 
ence began  in  1844.  On  the  basis  of  this  decision  it  was  declared 
in  the  General  Conference  of  the  Church  South  at  Birmingham, 
Alabama,  jMay,  1906,  by  the  secretary  of  that  body,  who  was 
fifterward  elected  bishop  at  that  Conference,  that  the  ^Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  is  in  contempt  of  the  Supreme  Court  because 
^hc  does  not  redate  her  official  Journals  in  harmony  with  the 
"'I)inions  of  the  Supreme  Court,  And  many  in  the  Church  South 
'»f»ld  this  view.  But  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  knows  her 
own  identity  as  an  individual  knows  his;  she  knows  she  is  the 


24G  Methodist  Ixevieiu  [^arcb 

Metbodml  Episcopal  Churcli,  wliicli  was  organized  in  Eallimorc 
ill  1784,  and  not  at  LouisvilJe  in  1S45.  No  obiter  dicta  of  any  court 
can  change  that.  Ilcr  unjirokon  succession  of  bishops  and  pastors, 
of  Annual  and  General  Conferences,  her  records  and  Journals, 
title  dcKids,  the  monuments  on  the  graves  of  her  honored  dead,  the 
acknowledgment  of  the  Clnirch  South  itself  at  its  organization  in 
1845  at  Louisville,  when  the  delegates  present  declared  themselves 
to  be  at  that  moment  membei's  of  the  jNIetbodist  Episcopal  Church, 
twelve  mo])tb6  after  its  supposed  division  in  1844,  the  declaration 
of  the  "Plan  of  Separation"  itself  that  ministers  and  members  on 
the  border  "maj  remain"  with  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
aro  facts  from  which  tluro  can  be  no  appeal  to  the  assumptions  of 
that  august  body,  to  whose  legal  decisions  as  good  Christians  and 
law-abiding  citizens  we  yield  instant  obedience,  but  to  whose  un- 
historical  Btatemcnts  we  cannot  yield  assent.  This  was  not  the 
only  separation  from  the  church.  Before  this  withdrawal  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  there  had  been  several  othci'S 
in  the  course  of  hei-  history :  the  '•O'Kelleyites,"  the  ''Eeform 
Methodist,"  the  "Methodist  Protestant,"  the  Church  in  Canada, 
the  "Slilwellite  Methodists,"  the  "Wesleyan  Methodists,"  but  these 
separations  in  no  wise  affected  her  identity.  She  remained  the 
same  identical  Methodist  E])iRcopal  Church  as  from  the  beginning. 
Nor  in  this  refusal  does  it  appear  that  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Chui'ch  ifc  in  contempt  of  the  Supreme  Court.  That  court  has 
itself  declared  in  Carroll  vs.  Carroll's  Lessee,  16  Howard,  281, 

If  the  construction  put  by  the  Court  of  a  State  upon  one  of  its  statutes 
was  not  a  matter  in  judgment,  if  it  might  be  decided  either  way  without 
affecting  any  right  brought  into  the  question,  then,  according  to  the  pvin- 
clplee  of  common  law,  an  opinion  In  such  a  question  is  not  a  decision.  To 
make  It  f^o  there  must  Lave  been  an  application  of  the  judicial  mind  to  the 
precise  question  necessary  to  be  determined,  to  fix  the  right  of  the  parties 
and  decide  to  whom  the  ))roperty  In  contention  belongs. 

N'o\T,  the  "precise  que-'^tion"  before  the  court  was  not  the 
power  of  the  General  Conference  to  divide  the  church,  but  a  ''"bill 
filed  to  recover  share  of  a  fund  called  the  Book  Concern,"  etc. 
That  t.hia  question  ''might  be  c1eeid(>d  cither  way"  without  decid 
ing  on  the  ])ou'0)-  of  the  General  Conference  to  divide  the  church  is 
admitted  by  the  court  itself  when  it  savs  that  even  if  the  General 


1010]        The  Case  of  ihe  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  247 

Conference  did  not  have  the  power  to  divide  the  church,  "Even 
if  this  were  admitted,  we  do  not  perceive  that  it  would  change  the 
relative  position  and  rights  of  the  traveling  preachers  within  the 
divisions,  North  and  South,  from  that  whicli  we  have  just  en- 
deavored to  explain."  The  church,  therefore,  docs  not  know  herself 
to  be  in  contempt  of  the  highest  tribunal  wlicn  she  refuses  to  accept 
as  history  the  unnecessary  dictum  of  that  tribunal  in  a  case  not 
before  it  for  adjudication.  It  is  no  discourtesy  to  say  that  men 
in  that  Conference  vrerc  as  thoroughly  competent  to  interpret  the 
cxjnstitutional  powers  of  the  General  Conference  as  any  member  of 
that  Supreme  Court,  and  the  whole  General  Conference,  the  ablest 
Southern  delegates  included,  as  we  have  seen,  had  declared  or  ad- 
mitted that  the  General  Conference  possessed  no  delegated  or  in- 
herent power  to  divide  the  church.  They  never  dreamed  that  the 
Conference  possessed  the  inherent  power  to  divide  the  church  and 
erect  two  distinct  ecclesiastical  connections  in  the  place  of  the  old 
one,  as  the  court  assumed,  any  more  than  they  did  that  because  the 
Kevolutionary  Congi-css  of  1776  had  the  ])0wer  to  adopt  some  other 
form  of  government  than  the  form  they  did  adopt,  therefore  every 
United  State?  Congress  has  the  inherent  po^er  to  divide  the  United 
States  government  and  erect  two  distinct  governments  in  the  place 
of  the  original  govei-nment.  They  never  dreamed  that  because 
the  Christmas  Conference  of  1784,  which  organized  the  church, 
had  the  power  to  reject  the  plaiis  ami  jmrposes  of  Wesley,  and  not 
to  establish  the  church  at  all,  therefore  every  General  Confer- 
eucc  had  inherent  right  to  destroy  the  church.  Back  of  the  General 
Conference  of  1S44  was  the  Constitution,  and  the  preamble  to  that 
Constitution  by  virtue  of  which  the  Conference  itself  existed, 
declared: 

^Vhereas,  It  is  of  the  greatest  importance  that  the  doctrine,  form  of 
Ko%-ernmcnt,  and  general  rules  of  the  United  Societies  in  America  bo  pre- 
served sacred  and  inviolable;    and, 

Whereas,  Every  ])rudent  measure  should  be  taken  to  preserve. 
strt-n;5then,  and  perpetuate  the  union  of  the  connection; 

tluTcforc,  l)Olh  bodies,  General  Conference  and  United  Stat(!S 
Congress,  are  delegated  bodies,  acting  under  a  written  Constitu- 
tion,  any  violation  of  Avhich  renders  their  respective  act  ntdl  and 
\'oid,  and  in  no  sense  binding  on  the  church  or  the  nation. 


248  Methodist  Bevieiv  [March 

II.  But  it  is  constantly  affii-mcd  r.?  a  standing  grievance  that 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  violated  the  "Plan  of  Separation" 
by  sending  her  ministers  into  the  territory  of  the  Church  South 
assigned  to  it  by  the  Plan  and  organizing  churches  and  Confer- 
ences therein.  No  true  fraternity,  it  is  sharply  insisted,  can  be 
hoped  for  until  this  Avrojig  is  righted.  This,  ^vc  rcgi-et  to  see,  is  the 
burden  of  that  unfraternal  editorial  in  the  Xashville  Christian 
Advocate,  to  which  reference  has  been  made,  and  is  the  ever- 
recurring  note  in  the  rippling  music  or  plaintive  wail  of  all  ad- 
dresses on  federation,  Punic  faith  is  a  grievous  charge  and  should 
not  be  light)}'  made.  What  are  the  facts  ?  The  General  Confer- 
ence of  18M  adopted  a  Plan  of  Adjustment,  called  a  Plan  of 
Separation,  for  thirteen  protesting  Southern  Conferences  whose 
delegates  declared  they  could  not  remain  under  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  The  line  of  division  between 
these  Conferences  and  the  church  was  not  a  Mason's  and  Dix- 
on's geographical  line,  as  many  have  supposed,  nor  the  lines  of 
slave-holding  States.  Conferoice  boundaries  arc  not  determined 
by  State  lines.  The  Conference  fixed  the  line  upon  the  northern 
boundary  of  these  thirteen  Conferences  in  the  slave-holding  States: 
Virginia,  Ilolston,  Kentucky,  ^lissouri,  Georgia,  North  Carolina, 
South  Carolina,  Arkansas,  Mississippi,  Alabaina,  Texas,  Ten- 
nessee, and  Memphis.  The  border  Conferences  were  Virginia, 
Kentucky,  and  Missouri.  This  is  clear  and  beyond  doubt.  The 
Plan  is  explicit.    It  reads : 

Resolved,  1.  That  should  the  delegates  from  the  Conferences  in  the 
Blave-holding  .States  find  it  necessary  to  unite  in  a  distinct  ecclesiastical 
connection,  the  follov/ing  rule  shall  be  observed  with  regard  to  the  north- 
ern boundary  of  such  connection 

— that  is,  of  these  tliirteen  Conferences  as  then  constituted,  and 
about  to  form  themsehe?  in  a  nev,'  church.  What  was  the  north- 
ern boundary  of  these  thirteen  Conferences  then  constituted  ?  The 
boundary  of  the  Virginia  Conference  was  the  Kappahannock  on 
the  north  and  the  Blue  Pidge  Mountains  on  the  west.  In  all  the 
region  north  of  that  line  and  in  the  State  of  Virginia  were  portions 
of  iSTorthcrn  Conferences,  the  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  and  Pitt'^- 
burg  Conferences.     The  Ohio  Eiver  from  the  mouth  of  the  Big 


3  010]        The  Case  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  249 

Sandy  was  the  line  separating  the  Kentucky  Conference  from  the 
Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Illinois  Conferences.  The  Mississippi  and 
the  State  line  separated  the  Missouri  Conference  from  the  Iowa 
Conferences.  Beyond  these  Conference  lines  neither  church  was 
permitted  to  go.  Beyond  that  line  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
did  not  go.  She  violated  no  rule  of  the  Plan  of  Separation,  and 
it  remains  to  this  day  for  those  who  persistently  accuse  her  of  this 
hreach  of  faith  to  furnish  the  proof.  But  on  the  contrary,  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  violated  the  Plan  of  Separa- 
tion from  the  beginning.  At  its  organization  at  Louisville  it 
invited  Conferences  not  represented  in  that  Convention  to  send 
delegates  to  the  General  Conference  at  Petersburg.  It  interpreted 
the  fixed  line  as  a  movahh  line.  Just  as  soon  as  the  societies  on 
the  line  voted  to  join  the  Church  South  the  boundary  line  was 
then  placed  north  of  those  societies,  until,  if  not  resisted,  there 
would  be  no  line  at  all.  On  the  basis  of  this  interpretation  the 
Church  South  invaded  the  Baltimore,  Philadelphia,  Pittsburg, 
Ohio,  Indiana,  Iowa,  and  Illinoirs  Conferences.  It  organized 
churches  in  the  city  of  Baltimore  itself,  crossed  the  river  and  ob- 
tained a  footing  in  Cincinnati;  established  churches  wherever  it 
could,  and  then  accused  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  of  vio- 
lating the  Plan  of  Separation  because  she  would  not  accept  this 
peculiar  interpretation  and  refused  to  be  expelled  from  the  South- 
ern States.  But,  after  all,  of  what  practical  or  concrete  value  now 
can  this  perpetual  galvanizing  of  dead  issues  be  to  the  kingdom 
of  God;  issues  dead  at  least  to  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
occupied  as  it  is  with  world-wide  problems  and  living  qitestions 
of  to-day?  The  Plan  of  Separation  has  been  long  since  dead, 
re})ealed,  abrogated,  and  repudiated  by  both  churches. 

In  ISJfS  the  General  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church  formally  repudiated  the  Plan  of  Separation.  At  that  Con- 
ference the  Committee  on  the  State  of  the  Church,  after  thorough 
consideration  of  the  facts,  reported  that  the  ]\Iethodist  Episco]->al 
Church,  South,  had  everywhere  violated  that  Plan,  giving  times 
imd  places  and  methods  employed.  As  a  part  of  their  report  the 
committee  incorporated  a  statement  to  the  same  effect  signed  by 
Bishops  Iledding,  Waugh,  Morris,  Ilamlinc,  and  Janes,  of  what 


250  Methodist  licview  [March 

tboy  bad  personally  known  or  had  kanied  on  reliable  information 
in  their  adniini.-'i ration  of  the  Conferences.  The  General  Con- 
ference then  adopted  the  report: 

Having  thus  fouud  upon  clear  and  Incontestable  evidence  that  the 
three  fundamental  condiiions  of  said  proposed  plan  have  severally  failed, 
and  the  failure  of  cither  of  these  being  sufnciont  to  render  it  null  end  void, 
and  having  found  the  practical  worldng  of  said  plan  incompatible  v,-ith 
certain  great  constitutional  principles  elsev.here  asserted,  v.-o  have  found 
and  declared  the  whole  and  every  i^art  of  said  provisional  Plan  to  he  null 
arid  void.     (Journal,  1848,  p.  164.) 

Iv  1866  ilic  Meihodisi  Episcopal  Church,  South,  repudiated  the 
Plan.  The  General  Conference  of  that  Chnrch  in  that  year,  held 
in  Xew  Orleans,  made  the  folloAving  declaration  : 

Resolved,  That  as  the  geographical  line  defining  the  territorial  limits 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
South,  established  by  the  General  Conference  of  1844,  has  been  offlclally 
and  practically  repudiated  and  disregarded  by  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  therefore  we  are  bound  neither  legally  nor  morally  by  It;  and 
that  we  feel  ourselves  at  liberty  to  extend  our  ministrations  and  ecclesi- 
astical jurisdiction  to  all  beyond  that  line  who  may  desire  us  so  to  do. 

ITaving  thus  repndinted  the  Thin  of  Separation,  the  Conference 
resolved  to  go  beyond  any  previous  aggression  by  adopting  another 
resolution  by  the  same  cx)inmittee  for  the  extension  of  their  work 
in  northern  terj'itory,  Ohio,  Indiana,  Illinois,  namely: 

Your  Committee  have  also  had  before  them  the  resolutions  of  the 
delegates  of  the  Kentuclcy,  Louisville,  and  Saint  Louis  Conferences,  ask- 
ing authority  to  annex  territory  In  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Illinois,  to  their 
respective  Conferences,  and  recommend  the  following  resolutions  for 
adoption: 

Resolved,  That  such  churches  or  societies  as  are  now  or  may  hereafter 
be  organized  In  sections  of  the  country  not  now  under  our  ecclesiastical 
jurisdiction,  and  which  v.ish  to  be  united  with  ua  in  church  fellowship, 
may  be  connected  with  the  Conference  most  convenient  to  them;  and  that 
the  bishops  be  authorized  and  requested  to  form  such  churches  into  sepa- 
rate Annual  Conferences  whenever  in  their  judgment  the  interests  of  the 
work  demand  such  action. 

Thus  did  the  Church  South  abrogate  tlie  Plan  of  1844.  In  the 
face,  then,  of  these  undeniable  facts,  what  becomes  of  the  affirma- 
tion, and  why  is  it  still  insisted  on  by  the  Xashville  Christian 
Advocate  and  other  j^ipers  that  "tlie  territory  reeogni/.ed  in  1844 
as  that  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  ('hnrch,  South,  is  still  ours" 


1010]        The  Case  of  ilie  Meilwdisl  Episcopal  Church  251 

and  ijobodv  else's  ?  Tliese  facts  are  scldoDi  or  never  mentioucd 
in  discussion  on  federation  in  Soutliern  Methodist  journals,  which 
sit  in  pernnment  jndgnient  on  the  policy  of  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  but  are  scduouslv  ke\)\  in  the  background,  so  that 
neither  the  membership  in  general  of  the  Church  South,  nor  of 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  nor  that  larger  public  outside,  are 
fully  or  correctly  informed  as  to  the  significance  of  the  extraor- 
dinary demands  now  made  by  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Clnirch, 
South.  For  it  may  justly  excite  amazement  in  every  reasonable 
mind  that  representatives  of  the  Church  South  should  ignore  all 
these  facts  and  y(it  demand  that  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
should  obey  the  provisions  of  that  very  Plan  which  the  Church 
South  itself  has  violated  and  officially  repudiated  by  General  Con- 
ference action.  Such  a  demand  is  without  a  parallel  in  ecclesias- 
tical history,  and  in  futui'c  times  may  be  regarded  rather  as  the 
egregious  blunder  of  the  historian  than  as  the  act  of  a  church  pro- 
claiming the  principles  of  Christian  equity. 

In  1865  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  resumed  her  work 
in  the  South.  She  did  not  intrude  herself  there.  She  was  invited, 
Nor  was  the  invitation  suggested  by  her.  It  was  the  spontaneous 
movement  of  thousands  of  Methodists  whose  fathers  and  grand- 
fathers had  been  members  of  the  old  church  before  the  "division" 
and  from  which  they  themselves  and  their  children  had  been  cut 
off  against  their  unavailing  protest  by  the  Plan  of  Separation. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  ]\Iethodist  Episcopal  Church  these  sheep 
without  a  fold  or  shepherd  would  have  been  scattered  elsewhere 
and  with  their  children  beconip  lost  to  ]\rethodism  forever.  To 
answer  such  a  call  was  therefore  both  a  patriotic  and  a  religious 
duty.  From  that  time  the  growth  of  the  church  in  the  South  has 
been  steady  and  gratifying.  In  the  Centi-al  South  Conferences 
we  have  now  1,113  ministers,  223,200  members,  211,541  Sunday 
school  scholars,  2,943  churches  valued  at  G,200,5G0,  and  72^ 
parsonages  valued  at  $1,425,118,  ami  in  addition  valuable  school 
l)ro])erty  in  nearly  all  the  Conferences, 

III.  It  now  remains  to  consider  the  charge  that,  notwith- 
standing repeated  protestations  of  fraternity  and  appointment  of 
Counnissions  on  Federation,  tho  INrethodist  Episcopal  Church  has 


252  Meihodis^  lie  view  [March 

not  withdrawn  from  the  territory  of  the  Church  South.  Federa- 
tion does  not  involve  such  withdrawal.  In  view  of  tbe  foregoing 
historical  facts  based  on  the  official  Journals,  the  question  naturally 
arises,  Why  should  she  ?  What  legal  or  moral  right  has  the  Church 
South  itself,  in  the  South,  that  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
or  any  other  Methodist  Church  does  not  possess?  But,  waiving 
this,  consider : 

1.  It  is  an  historical  fact  that  tbe  Church  South  officially 
accepted  the  offer  of  fraternity  in  1S72  from  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church.  Xow,  that  offer  was  based  on  the  distinct  under- 
standing, which  is  also  kept  in  the  background,  that  the  existence 
of  the  Methodist  Episco]>al  Church  rn  the  South  was  not  to  be  dis- 
puted or  her  withdrav»'al  therefrom  considered.  That  was  not  an 
open  question,  it  was  a  closed  question.  The  preamble  to  the 
resolution  which  provides  for  sending  fraternal  delegates  to  the 
Church  South  adopted  by  the  General  Conference  of  1872  reads: 

Within  the  parts  of  the  country  in  v,-hich  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  has  nearly  all  its  membership  and  institutions  (to  wit:" 
all  the  States  formerly  known  as  the  slave  States,  except  Maryland  and 
Delaware)  over  three  hundred  thousand  of  our  members  reside,  with  their 
houses  of  worship,  institutions  of  learning,  and  other  church  arrange- 
ments. Our  church  is  as  really  settled  in  that  region  as  in  any  part  of  the 
land,  and  every  consideration  nf  good  faitli  to  our  own  people  and  of  regard 
to  the  integrity  of  our  church,  and  especially  of  the  unmistakable  evidence 
of  the  favor  of  God  toward  effort  there,  forbids  the  thought  of  relaxing 
our  labors  In  any  part  of  the  country  in  perpetuity;  and  we  have  need  to 
strengthen  and  reenforcc  our  work  in  it  as  God  shall  give  us  the  raeaiis 
and  opportunities.     (General  Conference  Journal,  1S72.) 

On  the  basis  of  this  resolution  containing  this  open  declaration 
of  our  right  to  be  in  the  South  and  avowed  determiuation  to  remain 
there,  the  General  Conference  of  1874  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  received  Drs.  Hunt  and  Fowler  and  General  C.  B. 
Fisk  as  fraternal  delegates  from  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
The  result  of  this  action  was  that  the  General  Conference  of  the 
Church  South  ajipointed  comuiissioners  to  meet  with  commissioners 
from  the  ]\rethodist  Ejnscopal  Church  to  settle  all  questions  be- 
tween the.  two  churches  relating  to  jiroperty.  No  commission  was 
appointed  by  eithei-  church  to  discuss  the  right  of  the  !Methodist 


1910]        The  Ca-^e  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  253 

Ej)iscopal  Chiircb  to  be  in  the  South,  or  of  the  ^Methodist  Episcopal 
C'burcb,  South,  to  be  iu  the  Kortb.  The  preamble  above  quoted 
jtrohibited  any  such  discussion.  iSor  was  such  a  question  before 
the  commission.  The  coulmis^iou,  known  as  the  Cape  ^^^lay  Com- 
mission, met  at  Cape  May,  isew  Jersey,  in  August,  187G.  The 
only  reference  to  the  Plan  of  Separation  by  the  Southern  com- 
missioners iu  the  preliminary  negotiations  was  that  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  should  recognize  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  as  a  legitimate  organization  of  the  i^icthodist 
Episcopal  Church  into  a  second  General  Conference  jurisdiction, 
as  provided  for  in  IS-i-i  by  the  last  Ecumenical  General  Confer- 
ence of  the  ]\rethodi5t  Episcopal  Church.  If  this  could  not  be  done, 
it  is  asked  that  this  be  ''conceded  as  the  status''  of  the  Church 
South.  The  result  was  the  status  cj^uo  of  both  churches  was  con- 
ceded. The  interpretation  that  has  since  been  put  upon  the  purpose 
and  work  of  that  commission  is  an  injustice  both  to  the  commission 
and  to  the  sincerity  of  the  two  churches.  The  sole  question,  as 
stated,  before  that  body,  and  the  only  one  ever  mentioned  in  the 
reports  of  the  commissions  to  their  respective  General  Conferences, 
and  adopted  by  those  Conferences,  was  the  settlement  of  cases  in 
dispute  in  which  both  churches  claimed  to  have  property  rights. 
To  such  cases  of  this  kind  only  were  their  deliberations  directed. 
There  was  no  question  concerning  churches  of  the  ^lethodist  Epis- 
copal Church  in  the  South  which  were  not  in  such  controversy. 
The  commission  could  not  advise,  as  they  did,  that  Methodist  Epis- 
copal churches  and  propert}'  be  turned  over  to  local  Southern 
Methodist  churches,  nor  for  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South, 
churches  and  other  property  to  be  turned  over  to  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  if  the  rightful  existence  of  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church  in  the  South  was  not  fundamentally  acknowledged, 
or  if  that  church  was  to  withdraw  from  the  South.  Tliey  could 
not  advise  in  Kule  II,  as  they  did,  that. 

In  communities  where  there  are  two  societies,  one  belonging  to  the 
Methodist  Episcopnl  Church,  aud  the  other  to  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  v.-hich  have  adversely  claimed  the  church  property,  that 
without  delay  they  amicably  compose  their  differences  irrespective  of  the 
strict  legal  title  and  settle  the  t;;ame  according  to  Christian  principles, 


254  Methodist  Review  [March 

if  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  was  to  withdraw  from  the 
South,  if  the  status  quo  of  ihc  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  all 
the  territory  of  the  South  was  not  a  eouecchd  and  acknowledged 
right  without  any  relation  whatever  to  the  doubly  repudiated  Plan 
of  Separation. 

2.  The  same  clear,  outstanding  fact  appears  again  in  the 
appointment  of  the  present  Joint  Commission  on  Federation.  No 
question  of  the  right  of  the  ^Methodist  Episcopal  Church  to  be  in 
the  South,  or  of  its  withdrawal  therL-fiTun,  was  before  the  commis- 
sion which  met  for  the  first  time  in  Washington,  January,  1898. 
!N"or  was  the  subject  ever  discussed  or  even  mentioned.  The  ques- 
tion before  this  commission  was  how  to  avoid  competition  betwa-cji 
the  two  churches  in  the  same  territory.  This  question  was  met  l)y 
the  adoption  of  the  following  resolution,  which  was  also  adopted 
by  the  General  Conferences  of  both  churches,  and  thus  made 
equally  binding  on  both  churches  everywhere,  Korth  and  South, 
East  and  West,  and  in  foieigii  lands: 

Resolved,  That  we  recoiumend  the  respective  General  Conferences  to 
enact  provisiona  to  the  effect  that  where  either  church  is  doing  the  work 
expected  of  Methodism,  the  other  church  shall  not  organize  a  society  or 
erect  a  church  building  until  the  bishops  of  the  two  churches  having  in 
charge  that  field  have  been  consulted. 

Thus  again,  both  by  fratermd  commission  and  General  Conference 
action,  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  recognized  the 
rightful  existence  of  the  j\lethodist  Episcopal  Church  in  the  South  ; 
and  whatever  limitations  were  ])laced  upon  her  by  this  resolution, 
such  limitations  were  equally  in  force  against  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  South.  Wherevei-  the  ]\Iethodist  Episcopal  Church 
is  established  in  the  South,  or  elsewhere,  the  Church  South  shall 
not,  from  the  adoption  of  the  above  resolution  by  its  General  Con- 
ference, organize  a  society  or  erect  a  church  building  until  the 
bishops  of  both  churches  having  charge  there,  have  been  consult-ed. 
And  wherever  the  Church  South  is  established  the  IMethodist  Epis- 
copal Church  shall  ob<(  rve  the  sauie  rule. 

In  view,  then,  of  all  these  facts,  and  of  all  the  history  ineou- 
trovertible  we  have  summarized  in  briefest  manner,  there  doc*  Tiot 
K'ern  to  be  any  rational  ground  for  constant  agitatioTi  or  cx])loita- 


1010]        The  Cose  of  the  McfhocUM  Episcopal  Church  255 

(ion  of  tliese  subjects  by  Southern  Methodist  editors,  who  insist 
that  wo  must  again  reopen  the  graves  of  the  dead  past  and  reenact 
the  PLin  of  Separation  as  tlie  only  basis  for  genuine  fraternity. 
Xor  is  there  any  convincing  ground  for  denouncing  Methodist 
federation  as  a  farce,  and  tliat  the  Church  South  "will  have  none 
of  it" — a  decision,  however,  which  is  for  the  Church  South  to  de- 
termine. One  sure  thing  is  clear:  the  Church  South  could  not  now 
repudiate  18GG  and  the  Cape  May  Commission  and  go  back  to 
1844  if  it  had  never  repudiated  the  Plan  of  Separation  or  recog- 
nized the  status  quo  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  the 
South.  Nevertheless,  in  the  face  of  all  this  the  Methodist  Episco- 
pal Church,  because  of  her  work  in  the  South,  is  still  made  a  sub- 
ject of  criticism  and  object  of  attack.  She  is  charged  with  failure 
to  carry  out  agreements  entered  into  and  adopted  by  he}-  General 
Conferences.  Orders  are  issued  by  the  Church  South  to  its  com- 
missioners on  federation  to  enforce  (  !)  compliance  with  these 
agreements,  as  if  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  were  again  the 
offender,  ''Your  committee  suggests  that  the  commissioners  of 
our  church  Ix^  instructed  to  continue  the  effort  to  secure  the  enforce- 
ment of  the  agreements  already  enacted  by  the  General  Confer- 
ences of  the  two  churches"  (Journal  General  Conference  M.  E. 
Church,  South,  190G,  p.  260).  What  agi-eements  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  has  not  kept  is  not  pointed  out.  On  the  other 
hand,  wherever  the  Church  South  has  desired  to  organize  a  society 
or  to  erect  a  church  building  in  the  South,  there  she  has  entered 
without  regard  to  the  resolution  adopted  by  both  chui-ches. 

In  this  same  report  on  federation  adopted  by  the  General 
Conference  of  the  Church  South  at  Birmingham,  1906,  the  usual 
charge  of  waste  of  men  and  money  is  again  brought  to  the  front. 
It  is  declared  that  "an  eff'ort  ought  to  be  made  to  save  the  great 
expenditure  of  missionary  money  in  these  parts  of  the  South  wher*^ 
our  church  is  meeting  the  needs  of  the  people" ;  that  "much  good 
now  unatterapted  could  be  done  were  the  means  now  spent  in  th(^ 
Pup])ort  of  individual  churches  and  Conferences  in  the  South  de- 
voted to  heathen  people,"  Xo  one,  in  all  these  Southern  Confer- 
<'nces,  I  am  sure,  desires  or  defends  "wasteful"  expend it\ire  of  men 
or  money.     But  "it  is  strange,  and  passing  strange,"  though  wr 


256  Methodist  Ixcview  [March 

make  no  criticism  on  it  whatever,  that  while  the  General  Con- 
ference of  the  Church  South  was  thus  addressing  itself  to  this 
subject  and  the  needs  of  the  heatlien,  it  should  forget  its  own  ap- 
parent useless  expenditure  of  nien  and  money  in  the  bounds  of 
I^orthern  Conferences  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  the 
West  and  Xorthwest.  The  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  spends 
little  money  in  the  South  that  she  does  not  get  back.  In  190C, 
when  the  General  Conference  of  the  Church  South  called  attention 
to  our  "wasteful  expenditure,"  the  membership  of  our  Southern 
Confo'cnces  was  143,290.  The  missionary  appropriation  to  these 
Conferences  was  $-i.l:,300.  The  contribution  to  missions  from 
these  Conferences  was  $40,250.  That  is,  our  Southern  Confer- 
ences paid  back,  less  $4,050,  the  whole  amount  that  had  been  ap- 
propriated to  them. 

We  now  submit  a  statement  of  the  work  of  the  iSTorthern 
Conferences  of  the  Church  So\ith,  except  that  for  these  Northern 
Conferences  of  the  Southern  Church  the  column  of  missionary 
contributions  enbraces  the  amounts  paid  for  both  home  and  foreign 
missions:  Members,  15,095;  missionary  appropriation,  $15,800; 
amount  contributed,  $4,252.  That  is  to  say,  at  the  very  time  the 
General  Conference  of  the  Church  South  was  criticising  the  Metho- 
dist Episco])al  Church  for  useless  expenditure  of  men  and  money 
in  the  South  the  Church  South  was  spending  nearly  $1G,000  on 
15,000  members  in  the  Xorthwcst — more  than  a  dollar  for  each 
member — and  getting  only  $4,253  in  return  for  both  home  and 
foreign  missions.  From  these  facts  also  there  is  no  appeal  except 
to  that  charity  which  covereth  a  multitude  of — mistakes. 

And  yet,  in  spite  of  all  this,  in  spite  of  all  diiferences  and  all 
difficulties,  we  do  not  despair.  Xo  good  cause  ever  does.  ]\fetlio- 
dist  federation  is  not  a  farce.  It  has  produced  a  common  Catechism, 
a  common  Ilnnnal  and  order  of  worship,  unified  publishing  in- 
terests in  foreign  fields,  and  demonstrated  what  may  be  done  if 
belligerent  editors  will  expend  their  superfluous  energy  in  building 
up  rather  than  tearing  down.  Both  churches  are  in  earnest.  The 
love  of  God  ftud  of  ^Methodists  Xorth  and  South  with  a  common 
heritage  v.'ill  yet  prove  stronger  than  all  esti-angements.  Only  let 
us  be  patient  and  forlwariisg,  "laying  aside  all  malice  and  evil 


IIMOJ        Tho  Case  of  the  Mclhodist  Episcopal  Churih  2r»T 

speaking,"  hasry  judguieiits  and  uiisauctilied  ambitions  sustained 
by  worldly  principles  and  methods  of  selfish  diplomacy.  In  God's 
own  good  time,  which  we  may  hasten  by  courtesy  and  love  and 
cooperation,  the  mistakes  and  follies  of  men  who  did  the  best  they 
could  with  the  light  before  them  will  be  forgotten,  and  only  their 
piety  and  devotion  and  fruitful  labors  in  building  the  kingdom 
of  God  will  be  remembered.  And  then,  upon  that  ^fethodism, 
the  united  Methodism  of  the  future,  made  wise  by  history  and 
experience,  shall  come  the  promise  of  God  to  Israel — "Thv  sun 
shall  no  more  go  down,  nor  thy  moon  withdraw  her  rising,  for  the 
Tx)rd  God  shall  be  thy  everlasting  light,  and  the  days  of  thy 
mourning  shall  be  ended." 


/&Crg^ 


268  Methodui  Beview  [Mardi 


'Art.  VL— the  SPIEITUAL  I^EAUTY  OF  THE 
DOCTPJXE  OF  EVOLUTIOX 

The  fascination  of  snch  a  tillc  lies  in  its  subtle  and  tnie 
assnniption  that,  an  underlying  harmony  really  does  exist  between 
two  realms  often  set  in  contrast — the  realm  of  spiritual  loveliness 
and  the  realm  of  natural  law.  What  shall  be  the  order  of  our 
inquiry?  Let  it  be  siinjile,  Fii'st,  let  us  remind  ourselves  in  a 
word  what  evolution  is,  and  what  it  is  at  in  the  world.  Then, 
secondly,  we  may  inquire  as  to  its  invariable  accompaniment  of 
beauty,  a  beauty  rising  without  a  break,  as  the  plane  of  evolution 
itself  rises,  into  the  loftiest  forms  of  spiritual  loveliness. 

I.  Wbat  is  evolution?  "Progress  by  antagonism,  with  the 
survival  of  the  fittest,"  ajiswers  Herbert  Spencer  from  the  honored 
and  dusty  shelf  to  wdiich  he  has  now  been  relegated  by  a  later  and 
more  vital  philosophy;  a  good,  rough  definition  for  the  lower 
ranges  of  evolutionary  law.  What  is  evolution?  "Progressive 
differentiation  of  species  as  the  result  of  adjustment  to  environ- 
ment," answers  Charles  Darwin~a  subtler  and  finer  definition 
for  levels  of  life  half  way  up.  What  is  evolution  i  "The  develo]>- 
ment  of  maternity — the  creation  of  human  motherhood,"  answer 
John  Fiske  and  Henry  Drummond,  speaking  for  what  they  find 
to  be  the  final  outcome  of  evolutionary  processes  on  the  high 
human  levels.  Ah,  then,  something  very  different  here  from 
"progress  by  antagonism"  and  "adjustment  to  environment."  It 
seems  that  the  same  evolutionai-y  law,  carried  higher,  reverses  its 
ovm  earlier  aspect  of  selfishness  and  helps  a  man  to  be  unselfish  and 
to  conquer  his  environment.  Selfish  and  even  brutal,  apparently, 
on  the  low  animal  level,  the  very  same  evolution  develops  heroism 
and  develops  altruism  on  the  High  Alps  of  humanity,  and  Hrum- 
mond's  immortal  chapter  on  the  "Evolution  of  a  ^Mother"  is  juvSti- 
fied.  And,  if  this  be  so,  then  what?  This:  that  the  essence  of 
this  law  of  evolution,  accordingly,  must  be  discriminated  from 
the  rough  or  fierce  quarries  and  jungles  where  it  tarries  for  a 
night  (or  for  a  thou^and  years)  on  its  way  up.  In  other  words, 
only  the  large  and  lofty  view  of  evolution,  that  vicM'  of  its  field 


IJtlO]  Siiiriival  Beauty  of  Docirhir  of  Evolulloii-  250 

of  o|)cratioii  which  takes  in  man  and  iTiind,  can  he  tlic  true  view 
or  lead  to  the  tnie  conclusion  as  to  the  real  errand  of  evolution 
itself. 

The  early  mistake  of  Christian  thinkers  in  so  hastily  taking 
lip  arms  against  the  doctrine  of  evolution  lay  in  accepting  without 
challenge  a  low,  materialistic  definition  of  the  scope  of  that 
doctrine.  It  is  only  as  evolution  is  admitted  to  the  hn7nan  alli- 
ludes  that  its  nohle  meaning  all  the  way  np  becomes  apparent, 
hecausc  we  judge  the  nature  and  essence  of  a  force  or  a  law  by  its 
final  product,  Jiot  by  its  half-way  camping  grounds;  and  this  is 
both  science  and  common  sense.  The  key  to  the  meaning  of 
evolution  is  to  be  found  in  man's  mental  scenery;  not  down  among 
the  mollusks,  but  at  the  summit  of  the  evolutioiiary  proci  ss  in 
man  and  man's  mind.  Evolution  is  not  a  tigress,  although  the 
''fearful  symmetry"  "burning  bright,"  to  use  Blake's  curdling 
jdirase,  of  the  tiger's  body,  is  its  temporary  camping  place  and 
]tlayground.  Evolution  tames  tigers — give  it  time.  A  few  thou- 
sand years  more  and  all  tigers  w'ill  be — well — aldermen,  let  us 
say!  I  intend  no  disrespect  to  either  class.  What  I  am  getting 
at  is  that  it  is  not  in  the  tigerness  of  the  tiger  that  we  discover 
what  evolution  really  is  a}id  is  aiming  at  in  the  world.  It  is  in 
that  mother  force  within  the  tigress  which,  gradually  working 
itself  clear  from  the  tissues  of  tigerdom,  and  incarnating  itself, 
after  a  thousand  approximations,  in  a  human  mother'8  clasp  of 
)ier  child,  that  we  find  the  soul  of  the  evolutional  energy,  tlie 
er:sential  meaning,  the  sujireme  errand,  the  spiritual  content  of 
it>  law. 

II.  We  are  prepared,  then,  for  the  second  stop  in  the  argu- 
Mient,  It  is  this:  that  from  the  beginniiig,  all  the  way  up,  the  law 
i'f  evolution  works  with  the  accompaniment  of  the  principle  of 
lH.-auty,  attaining  at  last  to  the  highest  forms  of  spiritual  beauty. 
The  evidence  of  this  fact  along  lower  ranges,  the  strange  insepara- 
I'leiicss  (.f  beauty  from  evolution  in  the  jdiysical  world,  is  so 
familiar,  aiul  the  fact  itself  so  universally  recognized,  that  we  shall 
1h-  gbid  to  b'-  s])ared  any  recital  of  that  evidence  so  varied  and 
M.'Icndid.  thongh,  perhaps,  we  have  Ik  en  dull  to  its  wonderful 
hipher  significance.     But  the  thing  to  be  noted  is  that,  as  tlio 


2G0  Methodist  Review  [March 

force  and  law  of  evolution  ri^^e  in  their  field  of  action,  so  this 
invariable  manifestation  of  beauty  rises  also.  Evolution  evinces 
no  disposition,  upon  the  liiglicr  ranges,  to  swing  clear  of  its 
accompaniment  of  beautj,  but  insists  upon  it,  still  more  and  more, 
embodjing  upon  every  ascending  terrace  of  life  the  beauty  appro- 
]>riate  to  that  terrace.  There  must  be  the  beauty  of  curve  and 
color  and  motion  and  order,  wave-form  and  bird-flight,  whci-ever 
evolution  has  had  its  way,  but  not  less  as  evolution  enters  the 
brain  and  heart,  of  man;  its  pi-oduct  is  a  beauty  still  higher — 
the  fire-opal  of  imagiiiation  and  the  far  flight  of  thought;  and, 
higher  yet,  the  moral  loveliness  is  evolved.  Bravery,  and  con- 
stancy, aye,  and  the  glorious  archery  of  honor  and  the  altar  fire 
of  self-sacrifice — all  these  appear  when  evolution  has  its  final  way 
upon  the  summits  of  human  character. 

Let  us  employ  a  familiar  illustration.  Evolution  is  an 
architect.  Here  is  a  great  building  going  up.  Xow,  suppose 
at  the  end  of  the  first  week  we  define  the  architect,  and  sa}'  the 
architect  is  a  mud-digger.  What  he  is  for  is  to  plant  broken  stone 
and  cement  down  in  yonder  mire.  All  the  beauty  he  cares  for  is 
the  evenness  of  solid  concrete.  Some  weeks  later  we  think  better 
of  it,  and  say  the  architect  is  a  scaffold  rigger.  What  he  is  for  is 
to  spike  boards  together  for  a  scaffold.  Still  a  little  later  we 
further  revise  our  definition,  and  say  an  architect  is  a  boss  hod- 
carrier.  What  he  is  for  is  to  pack  men  on  a  ladder.  The  beauty 
he  cares  for  is  the  equal  rhythm  of  two  moving  lines  of  mortar 
hods  up  and  down.  All  this  would  be  stupid  judgment,  just  about 
as  stupid  as  have  been  our  customary  and  current  thoughts  about 
evolution.  Only  as  the  finished  cathedral  at  last  appears,  com- 
plete, with  its  soaring  lines  of  beauty  unbroken  from  foundation 
to  finial,  all  one  great  poem  of  interlacing  beam  and  stone,  ''a 
mountain  of  rock-work  set  to  music,"  to  recall  a  shining  phrase 
of  Dr.  Storrs,  only  from  the  view-point  of  the  finished  and  im- 
mortal loveliness  of  some  Salisbury  or  Cologne,  can  we  define  the 
architect  or  tell  what  beauty  he  is  really  seeking  in  the  world. 
So  of  God's  master-builder  whom  we  name  Evolution.  W^e  have 
stopped  in  the  nu)rtar  beds  to  define  him.  W^e  have  perched  on 
the   rough   sc;iff(»lding  to   define    him.      Oidy   from    the   finished 


11)10]  Sjilritiial  Bcanli/  of  Dodrinc  of  Evolution  261 

iininls  of  man's  life,  personal  and  social,  can  avo  define  him;  and 
these  finished  fiuials  inelnde  spiritnal  beauty.  And  this  theoretic 
conchisio]!  is  jnstified  \vhen  \ve  look  at  the  facts  and  observe  how 
tlie  lower  kind  of  beauty  is  developed  into  the  higher.  Nearly 
two  hundred  years  ago,  for  example,  a  fine  bnt  connnon  type  of 
patience  vras  exhibited  by  a  hnnible  Swedish  pastor  trotting  about 
his  obscure  rnral  parish  and  making  his  little  boy,  who  trotted  at 
his  side,  name  all  the  plants  by  the  roadway.  But  that  same 
patience  reappears  in  higher  beauty  in  the  scholarly  tirelessness 
of  that  same  boy  grown  older,  for  he  was  LiunaMis,  the  great 
botanist.  Linnaius  himself  thus  speaks  of  his  debt  to  his  father. 
Take  another  instance.  One  hundred  years  later,  and  nearly  ouc 
hundred  years  ago,  another  humble  parish  pastor  was  moving  about 
ill  his  little  parish  of  .Metiers,  near  Xcuchatel,  in  Switzerland,  and 
in  his  daily  round  stopped  often  to  lift  up  his  heart  in  wonder 
at  the  glory  of  the  great  Alps  of  the  Jura  around  him,  and  the 
still  greater  Bernese  Obcrland  in  the  southeast  distance,  and  by 
him  also  trotted  and  waited  his  little  son.  But  it  was  this  humble 
reverence  of  the  parish  pastor  that  was  reju-oduced  in  the  splendid 
lamp  of  adoring  homage  to  the  Infinite  which  that  same  little  boy 
hung  later  in  the  halls  of  science  upon  both  continents,  for  his 
name  was  Louis  Agassiz.  Xever  accepting  for  himself  the  theory 
of  evolution,  he  yet  was  himself  its  product.  So  in  all  the  higher 
life  of  man.  ]\rark  how  the  rude  sturdiness  of  Ellery  Channing's 
ancestry  comes  to  its  finished  blossom  in  the  spiritual  gallantry 
of  Chaiuiing  himself.  Think  of  the  softened  reverberation  of  the 
soldier  father's  valor  in  the  equal  but  more  delicate  bravery  of 
bis  daughter — the  constancy  of  some  Monica  of  Carthage,  the 
devotion  of  some  Teresa  of  Spain.  Think  of  the  evolutional 
relation  between  the  hoarse  old  Viking  war-scream,  twelve  cen- 
turies ago,  and  the  white  knightliness  whose  chivalry  on  land  and 
sea  to-day  defends  the  flag  we  love.  Xorseman,  Norman,  Anglo- 
Xorman,  Old  England,  New  England,  then  T>exington's  shot, 
heard  and  honored  in  the  heavens  as  well  as  "round  the  world" — 
these  indicate  the  successive  terraces  along  which,  with  whatsoever 
other  eorpiH-rating  factors,  evolution  al>o  clearly  climbs,  with  its 
inalienablf,    inse))arable    accompaniinent    of    higher    and    higher 


263  Methodist  Jxevicv:  [March 

forms  of  lutoUectiial  and  moral  beauty.  Evolution  is  a  battle 
song  that  ends  in  a  lullaby — yes,  in  tlie  Te  Dcum  of  sacrificial 
redemption. 

1  am  far  from  assorting  that  this  spiritual  wealth  of  man's 
inner  experience  is  cnlireJy  due  to  evolution.  I  do  not  think  it 
is.  The  mystery  of  free  will  steals  in.  The  mystery  of  God's  free 
grace  swings  down.  But  I  do  assert  that  a  i)art  of  this  scenery 
of  mind  and  soul  is  the  result  of  evolution.  Evolution  has  its 
legitimate  field  and  its  mighty  way  hei-e  also,  and,  so  far  as  evo- 
lution enters  this  domain  of  man's  spirit,  its  products  here,  as 
everywhere  else,  are  characterized  by  beauty.  The  truth  is  that 
the  path  of  natural  logic  upon  this  subject  has  been  blocked  and 
confused  by  our  early  unfortunale  assumption — due  to  that  melee 
of  controversy,  between  ignorant  theologians  on  the  one  side  and 
arrogant  scientists  on  the  other,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  modern 
theory  of  evolution  had  such  a  liard  time  to  get  itself  introduced 
to  the  world — the  assumption  that  evolution  is  essentially  a  low, 
materialistic  process.  Xothing  is  farther  from  the  truth.  The 
doctrine  of  evolution  is  tlie  most  athletic  ally  of  the  true  church 
and  aid  to  its  true  faith  which  exists  at  the  present  hour.  Evolu- 
tion accredits  the  old  germ  as  much  as  it  does  the  new  forni,  and 
shows  that  the  Christian  religion  survives  because  it  is  fittest  to 
survive.  We  are  hardly  ycl  awake  to  the  higher  significance  of 
the  new  investigations  in  psychology,  in  sociology,  in  ethics,  even 
in  the  development  of  religious  doctrine,  as  related  to  the  universal 
presence  of  the  evolutional  principle.  It  is  evolution  that  is  carry- 
ing up  the  ark  of  God  to-day. 

There  are  two  implications  of  our  argument  which  should  be 
briefly  stated  as  we  close.  The  first  has  to  do  with  our  faith  in 
God,  the  second  with  our  faith  in  immortality.  This  final  result 
of  spiritual  loveliness,  crowning  the  i)rocesses  of  evolution,  flashes 
its  radiance  back  upon  the  original  source  of  the  evolutional 
energy.  We  admit  that  tlie  Tnfiiiite  must  always  be  in  some  real 
sense  unkuowm  by  us.  ''Lo,  these  are  but  parts  of  his  ways,  but 
the  thunder  of  his  pov/er  who  can  understand  ?"  Yet,  in  another 
souse,  it  is  no  less  true  that  fi-om  what  is  at  last  developed  at  the 
sununit  of  the  world   \\v.  can  reason  bactk  to  the;   nature  of  the 


]910]  Spirifual  Braulu  of  Doctrinn  of  Evolviion  2G3 

original  Force  that  ]n-oduccd  it.  Water  docs  not  rise  higher  than 
its  source.  As  John  Fiskc  u-cd  to  say  in  his  later  and  more 
Christian  thinking,  "We  must  slate  the  Source  of  the  universe  in 
the  terms  of  the  final  product  of  the  universe."  Let  lis  take  another 
familiar  illustration.  From  some  roek-cistern  in  the  hills  you 
lead  a  line  of  piping  down  through  thicket  and  mire,  undergi-ound, 
till  it  curves  up  beneath  the  cellar  of  your  home,  and  then,  ascend- 
ing, passes  through  every  story  till  the  current  of  watoi-  it  carries 
is  released  to  play  as  a  fountain  in  your  roof  garden.  A  nosi)ig 
investigator  informs  you  that  he  has  made  an  astonishing  scien- 
tiiic  discovery,  namely,  that  the  prismatic  play  of  your  roof  foun- 
tain is  evolved  from  the  shelter  of  the  slecjung  rooms  beneath, 
and  this  is  evolved  from  the  stufliness  of  the  parlor  floor,  and  this 
is  evolved  from  the  sordidness  of  the  kitchen,  and  thi^  from  the 
squalor  of  the  cellar,  and  this  from  the  very  slag  and  slime  itself 
beneath  yOur  house.  '"I  have  traced  that  pipe,"  he  explains,  "all 
the  way  down,  and  this  is  what  it  comes  to,  and  that  is  what  1 
llnd.  This  is  evolution."  AYhat  ^^  ill  you  say  to  that  man  ?  If 
you  say  what  you  think,  which  is  not  always  the  politest  way,  you 
will  say,  "My  fi-iend,  you  are  almost,  if  not  quite,  several  kinds 
of  an  idiot.  Trace  up  as  well  as  trace  down.  Don't  you  know  that 
the  water  has  to  come  down  first  in  order  to  rise  as  it  docs.  The 
'prismatic  play,'  as  you  call  it,  of  the  fountain  at  the  summit  offers 
the  true  standpoint  where  I  can  adequately  judge  how  high  in  tin.* 
hills  my  rock  reservoir  is  and  what  is  the  quality  of  th(>  water." 
So  of  the  light  which  the  evolutional  energy  at  the  summit  of  its 
process  casts  back  upon  the  "hollow  of  Ciod's  hand."  If  a  mollu<k 
in  a  million  years  will  develop  into  Plato,  then  thai  wonderful 
Platonic  tendency  in  the  mollusk  argues  something  back  of  the 
mollusk  as  high  as  Plato,  for  watei-  does  not  rise  above  the  level 
of  its  source.  The  evolutional  process  culniinates,  as  we  have 
f^'en,  in  spiritual  beauty,  and  we  argue  that  the  infinite  jjrototyp-- 
of  thi.s  beauty  dwelt  and  dwells  forever  in  the  Eternal,  au<l  it  i> 
the  strong  giant  Evolution  itself  that  cries  to  us,  "Hats  oiV,"  when 
Jesus  says;  "Abba,  Father."  Then,  last  of  all,  and  in  the  opposite 
direction,  the  great  torch  and  headlight  of  our  theme,  from  the 
IK)int  to  which  we  have  now  carried  it,  streams  steadilv  forward. 


264  Mrllindht  Rnview  [Mnrcli 

ilhnaiiiatiiig  iho  path  of  failli  coiicciiiiiig'  llic  hereafter,  and  lend- 
ing its  mighty  presunjplio]!  in  favor  of  the  doetrine  of  the  imnior- 
tality  of  the  soul.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  maintain  this!  The  final 
fruitage  of  the  science  of  evolutionary  biology  is  faith  in  a  iutin-e 
life.  If,  as  we  have  argued,  and  as  the  facts  of  (ivolution  show, 
the  genius  of  evolntinu  reveals  itself  as  ever  a  lovrr  of  the  lic-anti- 
ful,  and  if  the  noblest  form  of  beauty,  eveti  the  beaut}'  of  tlu  mind, 
is  precisely  what  all  the  long  process  of  development  from  the 
ascidian  upward  really  aims  at,  incessantly  reaches  aftei-,  atid 
ultimately  attains,  then  is  it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  this  age- 
long current  of  tendency  is  doomed  to  abrupt  and  ignominiiius 
arrest  and  defeat  at  the  crevice  of  the  grave '^  It  cannot  be.  Evo- 
lution has,  from  the  beginning,  been  l>ent  un  the  s|)iritm^l  as  its 
final  goal.  Patient,  tiixless,  determined,  like  its  God,  it  has 
sought,  through  ten  thousand  ages,  the  finished  glory  of  the  s}iirit. 
We  cannot  believe,  we  will  nr.l  believe,  that  having  at  last  achieved 
this,  realized  this,  evolution  will  then,  in  an  instant,  surrender 
all  it  has  won,  throw  it  aside,  toss  it  to  the  void,  and  tamely  con- 
sent to  its  eternal  dissolution  at  the  bidding  of  some  counuon 
ruffian  growl.  ]\'ot  siriee  the  intiiitio]]  of  So^-rates  and  the  revela- 
tion of  Jesus  has  so  clear  a  note  sounded  for  immo)-tality  as  tliat 
M'hose  bell  rope  is  in  the  hands  of  the  modern  science  of  evolution. 
Science  also  enters  yonder  old  Athenian  ])rison  cell  and  joins  with 
philosophy  to  declare,  "Aye,  Socrates,  thou  reasonest  well  in 
asserting  the  presence  within  a  noble  human  s])irit  of  that  which 
is  too  divine  to  die.''  A  '^iiisgivingv'  to  tise  Vlato's  beatuiful 
word,  of  some  higher  world  steals  over  us;  and  it  is  evolution 
itself  that  has  developed  this  anticijiatory  gleam.  The  authority 
of  scientilic  law,  then,  is  behind  that  foregleain  of  the  liereafter, 
which  it  has  been  the  function  ef  the  law  itself  to  evolve  within 
my  mind,  and  seienee  indnr^es  love's  deh'ance  to  death  by  its 
proclamation  of  the  survival  of  the  fit,  the  j)erpetuity  of  the  fine. 
In  this  great  and  Imly  "aftershine"  of  evolution,  then,  we 
may  leave  the  snbjecl.  iJalhed  in  immortal  beauty,  the  law  of 
evolution  a])pear>>  head  maslei-  in  the  proee-sional  of  time,  sent 
forth  from  Cod,  and  swinging  throuiih  the  woild,  and  llnotigh 
the   eons,  ever  iiUent    ti])on   its  one  sublime  errand,   which   is  to 


1010] 


spiritual  Beauty  of  Doctrine  of  Evolvtion 


2G5 


carry  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  and  from  the  nameless  gnlfs  of 
amorphous  and  inchoate  materials  to  evolve  at  last  a  soul  so 
shining  in  its  strength  that  it  can  step  across,  on  the  level,  into 
the  heavens  and  live  with  God. 

At  last  I  heard  a  voice  upon   the  slope 
Cry  to  the  summit,  "Is  there  any  hope?" 
To  v,hicli  an  answer  pealed  from  that  high  land. 
But  in  a  tongue  no  man  could  understand. 
And   on  the  glimmering  limit  far  withdrawn 
God  made  himself  an  awful  rose  of  dawn. 

So  sang  our  Tennyson  sixty  years  ago.  But  within  this  half 
century  it  is  our  study  of  the  law  and  the  prophecy  of  human 
evolution  which,  beyond  anytliing  else,  has  added  a  clearer  mean- 
ing to  that  voice,  a  sweeter  assiirance  to  that  rose. 


266  Methodist  Review  [March 


Art.  VIT.— the  HOLY  CATHOLIC  CHURCH 

Dogmatic  Mclbodism  is  based  upon  the  so-called  "Apostles' 
Creed."  It  is  as  aucieiit  as  that  symbol  and  as  coinpreheusive. 
Differentiated  from  other  systematic,  it  is  identified  with  all 
branches  of  Christianity  by  its  acceptance  of  a  venerable  state- 
ment of  faith  which  was  originally  formulated  to  discriminate 
between  orthodoxy  aiid  heterodoxy.  After  eighteen  centuries  the 
Anglo-Catholic,  the  lloman  Catholic,  the  Weslcyan,  the  Presby- 
terian, the  CongTogationalist,  the  Lutheran,  the  Methodist  Episco- 
palian, the  Protestant  Episcopalian  unite  in  affirming  their 
religious  belief,  desi»ite  internal  antagonisms  which  render  organic 
union  iinpossible.  l^'crbaps  each  sectarian  (with  due  apolog;)'  for 
the  use  of  a  term  A\hi<'h  seems  historically  necessary)  deems  him- 
self a  member  of  thr  "holy  Catholic-catholic  church,"  without 
denying  the  rights  of  all  other  Christians  to  membership  in  that 
august  body,  or  perhaps,  he  thinks  of  "one  holy  catholic,  apostolic 
church,"  as  an  ideal,  a  sort  of  mirage,  floating  in  the  iridescent 
spaces  of  the  heavens,  remote  from  the  coarse  actualities  of  life  in 
Sardis,  Smyrna,  Philadelphia,  ^Xew  York  or  Crabbes  Corners. 
Seldom,  indeed,  does  he  set  himself  the  task  of  settling  accounts 
with  his  own  attitudes,  and  is  content  to  leave  creeds  and  sj'mbols 
to  the  theological  specialist.  However,  every  Methodist — however, 
whenever,  or  wherever  converted — is  required  to  profess  belief  in 
the  holy  catholic  church  as  a  prerequisite  to  baptism  and  admission 
into  that  household  of  faith,  outside  of  which,  technically,  there 
is  no  salvation,  only  "uncovenaiited  mercies,"  and  the  justice  of  a 
Father  whose  sunshine  falls  on  the  unthankful  as  on  the  good. 
His  spiritual  advi-^ers  may  assure  him  that  he  merely  expresses 
belief  in  the  '"holy  general  church,'-  and  has  no  concealed  sympa- 
thies with  ihe  church  of  Pope  Pius  X,  but  it  is  to  be  doubted  if 
they  ever  seriously  teach  him  what  ''sanctaia  ccclcsinm"  is — oi- 
what  is  implied  in  a  solemn  profession  of  faith  in  such  an  insti- 
tution as  a  church,  or  ^'congregation  of  faithful  men,"  which  is 
both  "holy"  and  "catholic,"  and,  by  implication,  "one"  and 
''apostolic."     And,  after  more  than  forty  years'  knowledge  of  tlx- 


ID  10]  The  Holy  Catholic  Church  267 

Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  the  United  States  of  North 
America,  I  have;  yet  to  hear  of  one  Methodist  preacher  who  ever 
cxphuncd  to  his  charge  what  was  meant  by  the  baptismal  avowal 
of  Iwlief  in  the  church  as  ''holy"  and  as  "catholic."  And  I  have 
vet  to  learn  of  a  layman  sincere  enough  to  demand  of  his  minister 
Rn  exposition  of  that  article  of  his  creed  which  requires  faith  in 
an  ii»stitution  which,  in  fact,  is  neither  '-g-cneral"  nor  "holy." 

There  is,  in  the  obscure  background,  I  am  convinced,  an.  im- 
pression that  it  is  not  necessary  to  think  clearly  on  the  subject  at 
all,  that  the  essence  of  religion  does  not  inhere  in  the  formulas  of 
the  old  Roman  symbol,  and  that  even  if  acceptance  of  it  is  a  sirie 
qua  non  of  church  membership,  one  may  hold  it  in  suspense  or 
alx^yance,  or,  indeed,  entirely  repudiate  the  claims  made  by  the 
framers  of  the  symbol,  that  the  church  is  a  holy  institution,  not 
Ixxiause'  its  members  are  holy,  but  because  it  has  the  so-called 
'•'means  of  grace,"  and  so  of  promoting  the  holiness  of  those  who 
rt-t^ive  the  "means,"  and,  ultimately,  of  "saving"  them.  How 
much  is  actually  involved  in  the  repetition  of  the  creed  does  not 
a;)pear,  and  yet  nothing  is  more  evident  to  one  who  looks  critically 
Hi  the  church  service  than  that  the  creed  should  not  be  rei)eated  at 
all,  or  that  the  ministry  should  devote  itself  with  apostolic  fervor 
t'>  efforts  for  the  realizntion  of  all  the  ethical  and  organic  ideals 
expressed  or  implied  in  the  term  "church."  This  will  preserve 
intact  the  enthusiasms  of  the  ministry  and  vitalize  a  pul])it  whose 
u-mjitation  is  evasion  of  martyrdom.  The  Methodist  preacher  par 
excellence  is  morally  bound  to  conduct  every  service  so  as  to  aid 
iu  the  advancement  of  holiness.  His  "gospel"  is  the  gospel  of 
"lioliness,"  and  the  goal  of  his  ministry,  so  far  as  he  himself  is 
concerned  and  so  far  as  his  "'people"  are  concerned,  is  to  realize 
the  ideals  of  sainthood.  The  "church"  is  not  an  abstract,  intangi- 
liK',  remote  dream,  but  an  actual  society,  and  its  members  are  oath- 
In/uiid  to  live  according  to  the  laws  that  inhere  in  the  life  of  God. 
Ii  Is  not  too  much  to  say  that  they  are  obligated  to  live  without  sin, 
or  that  they  recognize  the  obligations  which  are  latent  in  the  rela- 
tions that  exist  between  man  and  man,  and  between  man  and  the 
Ofni  in  whom  he  lives  and  moves  and  has  his  being.  This  l)cing 
true,  nothing  ought  to  be  done  in  the  name  of  the  church  which 


208 


Mclhodisi  Bevicii 


[March 


docs  not  directly  eoiitribule  to  tlie  conservation  of  the  holiest  in)- 
pnlses.  From  the  openinc  words  of  a  church  service  to. the  last 
words  of  the  benediction,  every  featnre  of  it  i:>  designed  to  devclo}^ 
the  spirit  of  holiness.  By  this  the  chnrch  stands  or  fall:=.  Not 
only  so,  hut  the  chur(;h  is  hound  to  i-ecoguizo  its  mission  to  every 
hnma))  heing  on  the  face  of  the  globe.  "The  church  was  universal," 
says  ]\rcGifl'crt,  "not  simply  because  it  was  spread  everywhere,  but 
because  it  M'as  for  everyone,  and  so  belonged  to  and  had  a  )neaning 
for  the  whole  world."  '.ro  eui]:)hasize  this  Paul  wrote  his  letter  to 
the  church  at  Ttome.  The  cliiireh  is  not  for  the  elect;  it  is  for  all 
men  everywhere,  and  its  mi>sion  is  organized  to  ap[teal  to  the  uni- 
versal moral  instincts.  When  it  becomes  exclusive  it  ceases  to  be 
a  church  as  surely  as  it  ceases  to  be  a  church  when  it  cease?  to  be 
holy.  There  is  nothing  which  has  more  swiftly  blighted  church 
life  than  the  culture  of  ca^le — the  spirit  which  excludes  the  non- 
elite  of  society.  Tlundreds  of  ^lethodist  churches,  especially  in 
cities,  are  dyiijg  because  it  is  uiiiversally  known  that  they  are  class 
churches,  and  that  their  representative  men  are  ruthless  adminis- 
trators of  capital  and  exploiters  of  labor.  They  are  as  far  from 
the  spirit  of  John  Wesley  as  from  the  Spirit  of  Jesus  of  ]!\azareth, 
and  as  completely  fail  to  reproduce  the  spirit  of  the  primitive 
church  as  the  })lutoci'acy  of  the  United  States  fails  to  embody  the 
di-eams  of  the  men  of  '?(). 

Hierarchic  organization  of  itself  tends  to  destroy  the  essen- 
tial elements  of  holiness  and  catholicity,  and  its  animus  descends 
from  the  successful  af])irants  to  place  and  power  to  the  obsoirest 
member  of  a  circuit  church  among  tlie  mountains  of  .Kentucky. 
Only  the  spirit  of  a  fellowship  com])orts  with  the  notes  of  sanctity 
and  catholicity,  a  fcllow.-hip  who.-c  notes  are  liberty,  equality,  and 
fraternity.  Where  these  are  there  is  the  true  church,  because  where 
these  are  there  is  the  Spirit  of  that  Man  who  ]')erfectly  obeyed  tlie 
law  of  God  in  the  impuKses  of  a  supreme  unselfishness. 


^?^.  yv^ 


^:::^^J^^-^ 


]0]  A   Ncu-  Easayist  269 


Akt.  VTJl.— a  new  essayist 

TiiEitF.  is  a  masterful  and  streiuioiis  gentleman  who  is  now, 
or  wiir^  recently,  hunting  lions  in  ^\f)-iea.  Like  death,  this  gentle- 
man claims  all  men  and  times  and  seasons  for  his  own.  For 
present  pnrj>oses  Ave  may  adopt  his  own  modest  characterization 
of  himself:  ''An  elderly  genrleman,  with  a  somewhat  vai-ied  past 
and  a  tendency  to  rheumatism."  This  gentleman,  who  is  a  man 
of  literature  as  well  as  of  men,  took  with  hi)n  into  the  wilds  of 
Africa  a  collection  o.f  hooks  which  he  named,  fj-om  the  substajicc 
of  their  binding,  "'The  Pigskin  Library.''  In  the  nearly  two  score 
authors  there  is  but  one  living  essayist,  and  it  is  of  his  works  that 
I  wish  to  speak.  I  have  called  him  ''A  ]Sew  Essayist,'"  and  I 
think  the  adjective  is  fairly  accurate  even  in  a  land  and  age  where 
tin-  new  so  quickly  becomes  the  old,  for  it  is  only  six  years  sijice  his 
first  volume  of  essays  was  published.  Those  who  have  not  read 
him  have  a  delightful  experience  in  store,  and  those  who  are 
fnuiiliar  with  his  writings  will  be  glad  to  be  reminded  of  the  fresh 
and  fcpicy  flavor  which  mubt  have  charmed  their  literary  taste.  It 
was  the  freshness,  spontaneity  and  pungent  flavoi-  of  his  work  that 
first  drew  me  to  our  "pigskin"  essayist.  Samuel  ]\lcChoi'd  Crothers 
was  born  in  Illinois  fifty-two  years  ago.  He  is  a  graduate  of 
Princeton  and  of  Enion  Theological  Seminary.  His  early  pas- 
torates were  in  Xcvada  and  California.  In  view  of  the  tempering 
that  was  to  come  afterwai-d,  it  was  a  great  thing  for  him  to  have 
.•^iHiit  hi>  early  years  in  the  "wild  and  woolly  West."  He  knows  the 
wheat  fields  of  the  Dakotas  and  the  alkali  plains.  Ho  is  familiar 
with  the  swaggering  cowpuuchers  and  the  sulphurous-tongued 
promoters  who  shot  \ip  the  street  of  Canyon  City  and  salted  the 
niines  in  Dead  Man's  Gulch.  This  is  why  he  writes,  "It  is  only 
Hs  (licy  turn  westward  ihat  Americans  discover  America.  The  West 
is  a  feeling,  an  irresistible  impulse.  It  is  associated  with  the  verb 
'lo  g.i.'  '*  The  symbol  of  the  West  is  a  plauk  sidewalk  leading  out 
from  a  brand-new  prairie  tovni  and  pointing  to  a  thriving  suburb 
wiiich  as  yet  exists  only  in  the  mind  of  its  projector.  There  is 
soiiicrhiug  pathetic  in  ibat  sidewalk  on  whieh  the  foot  of  man  has 


270  McOiodisi  licviciv  [March 

never  trod.  Our  essayist  says  tlmt  when  one  has  been  touched 
with  tliis  Western  fever  he  never  completely  recovers;  though  he 
may  change  his  environment,  he  is  always  subject  to  intermittent 
attacks,  and  by  way  of  illustration  remarks  that  on  his  first  evening 
in  Oxford,  England,  he  was  introduced  to  one  of  the  Dons  in 
academic  garb. 

When  he  learned  that  1  T\as  an  American,  there  was  a  Gudden  thavr  in 
hia  manner.  "Have  you  ever  been  in  Dodge  City,  Kansas?"  he  inquired, 
eagerly.  I  modestly  replied  that  I  had  only  passed  through  on  the  railway, 
but  being  familiar  with  other  Kansas  towns,  and  reasoning  through  anal- 
ogy, could  tell  about  what  sort  of  a  place  it  was.  This  was  enough.  I  had 
experienced  the  West  and  was  one  of  the  initiated.  I  could  enter  into  that 
stale  of  mind  repre.=.ented  by  the  realm  of  Dodge  City.  It  appeared  that 
in  the  golden  age,  when  he  and  Dodge  City  were  both  young,  be  had 
sought  his  fortune  for  sorue  months  iu  Kansas.  He  discoui-sed  of  the 
mighty  men  of  those  days,  when  every  man  did  what  was  right  In  bis  own 
eyes  and  good-humoredly  allowed  his  neighbor  to  do  likewise.  As  we 
parted  he  said,  with  a  mournful  acquiescence  in  hie  present  estate, 
"Oxford  does  very  well,  you  Icnow,  but  it  isn't  Dodge  City." 

Now  upon  the  plant  so  rooted  and  grounded  was  graftied 
the  culture  of  the  East.  In  1894  our  essayist  came  to  live  under 
the  shadows  of  Harvard  University  and  was  installed  as  pastor 
of  the  First  Parish  Church,  Unitarian,  at  Cambridge.  It  is  small 
wonder  that,  walking  along  the  paths  where  Lowell  and  Longfellow 
and  Oliver  We^idell  Holmes  had  preceded  him,  breathing  the  liter- 
ary atmosphere  which  they  had  created,  and  passing  every  day  the 
door  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  our  Westerner  should  in  a  deca<]e 
become  as  polished  an  e.'-sayist  as  though  he  had  the  blood  of 
Dorothy  Q.  in  his  veins.  Afadame  de  Stael  said  to  Sir  John 
Mclnto.sh  across  a  dinner  table,  "Xapoleon  is  not  a  man,  he  is  a 
system.'*-  And  one  equally  brill ianl,  and  possessed  of  the  same  dis- 
criminating s])irit,  has  .'iaid,  **JJoston  is  not  so  much  a  place  as  a 
state  of  mind.''  The  Bostonian  enjoys  his  state  of  mind  none  the 
less  because  he  is  aware  that  outsiders  are  not  always  able  to  ent^cr 
into  it,  but  here  is  a  man  who  proves  himself,  whatever  his  paren- 
tage, to  be  "to  the  manner  born."  You  will  remember  that  Dr. 
John  Bro"\vn  tells  a  ])leasant  story  of  a  countryman  who,  being 
asked  to  account  for  the  gravity  «»f  his  dog,  said  :  *'0h,  sir,  life  is 
full  of  sariousness  to  him.     He  just  niver  gets  'nuif  o'  fechtin'." 


1010]  A   New  Essayist  271 

ikirrcll  adds  that  something  of  the  spirit  of  this  dog  seems  lak'ly 
to  have  entered  into  the  very  people  who  ouglit  to  have  been  freest 
from  it— our  men  of  letters.  "They  are  all  very  serious  and  very 
quarrelsome.  Authors  onglit  not  to  be  above  being  reminded  that 
ii  is  their  first  duty  to  write  agreeably.  Literature  exists  to 
])]ease,  to  lighten  the  burden  of  men's  lives,  to  make  them  for  a 
short  while  forget  their  sorrows  and  sins,  their  silent  hearths,  their 
disappointed  hopes  and  grim  futures,  and  those  men  of  letters  are 
l)est  loved  who  have  best  performed  literature's  truest  ofhe^." 
^Measured  by  this  standard,  I  think  our  es-ayist  is  entitled  to  at 
least  a  modest  niehe  in  the  temple  of  literary  fame.  In  some  points 
he  resembles  Lowell,  but  in  more  proves  himself  to  have  in  his  veins 
the  literary  blood  of  Oliver  "Wendell  Holmes,  One  cannot  read 
))is  little  book  on  Holmes  without  feeling  that  he  has  not  only 
written  con  cnnore,  but  that  his  own  life  is  pitehed  to  the  same 
literary  key  and  that  he  can  sing  the  cheery  song  which  Holmes 
sang  l)cfure  his  voice  felt  the  quiver  of  age.  In  his  essay  on  "The 
Autocrat  and  His  Fellow  Boarders,''  published  recently  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly,  he  has  some  general  reflections  on  essays  and 
essayists  which  are  very  interesting  because  very  true.  You  will 
remember  the  title  of  Holmes's  book,  The  Autocrat  of  the  Break- 
fast Table,  or  Every  Man  His  Own  Boswell.  Crothers  reminds 
lis  that  no  man  can  be  his  own  Boswell  except  he  be  an  egoti>t. 
Ordinarily,  it  is  not  considered  good  form  for  a  man  to  talk  much 
about  himself,  but  with  the  essayist  the  first  person  singular  is  his 
stock  in  trade.  He  is  interested  in  the  human  mind  and  likes  to 
ehroniclo  its  queer  goings  on.  lie  is  curious  about  its  inner 
working, 

Nov.-  It  happens  that  the  only  mind  of  which  he  is  able  to  get  a  view 
is  his  own,  and  so  he  makes  the  most  of  it.  He  follows  his  mind  about. 
t.'iV'lng  notes  of  all  its  haps  and  mishaps.  He  is  ovrare  that  it  may  not  be 
the  best  Intellect  in  the  world,  but  it  is  all  he  ha.s.  und  he  cannot  help 
U'coming  attached  to  it.  A  man's  mind  grows  on  acquaintance.  For  a 
person  to  be  his  own  Boswell  im])lies  that  he  is  also  his  own  Dr.  Johnson. 
Dr.  Johnson  must  have  enough  opinions,  obstinacies,  and  insights  to  make 
the  Baswelllzlng  worth  while.  The  natural  hirJory  of  a  mental  vacuum 
cannot  Ix^:  made  interesting  to  the  general  reader.  .  .  .  The  Autocrat 
w;i£  singularly  fortunate  in  making  his  deliver;iuces  in  ;i  Boston  boarding 
houfie,  v.hero  he  had  a  nervous  landlady  to  please,  an  oj)iniouaied  old  man 


272  Mcihodist  Hcvicw  [March 

ready  to  be  displeased,  a.  theological  student  who  wanted  to  know,  an 
angular  fcraale  in  black  bombazine,  and  a  young  fellow  named  John  who 
cares  for  none  of  these  things.  Matthew  Arnold  speaks  of  "the  fever  of 
some  differing  soul."  In  Anferica  to  know  "the  fever  of  some  differing 
soul"  is  part  of  the  fun.  We  do  not  think  of  ourselves  a.s  in  an  intellectual 
realm  where  every  man's  house  is  his  castle.  We  are  all  boarders  together. 
There  are  no  gradations  of  rank.  Nobody  sits  below  the  salt. 
The  first  sentence  of  the  Autocrat  strikes  the  keynote:  "I  was  just  going 
to  say  when  I  was  interrupted."  Here  we  have  the  American  philosopher 
at  his  best.  lie  is  inured  to  interruptions.  He  is  graciously  permitted  to 
discourse  to  his  fellow  citizens  on  the  good,  the  true,  and  the  beautiful; 
but  he  must  be  mighty  quick  about  it.  He  must  know  how  to  get  in  his 
words  edgewise.  "Will  you  allow  me  to  pursue  this  subject  a  little  fur- 
ther?" asked  the  Autocrat.  Then  he  adds,  dismally.  "They  didn't  allow 
rae."  The  lady  in  bombazine  remarks,  acidly,  "I  don't  think  people  who 
talk  over  their  victuals  are  likely  to  say  anything  great." 

And  then  there  \vas  the  other  boarder  whom  Holmes  describes 
as  the  model  of  all  tlu-  virtues.  She  was  the  natural  i)roduct  of  a 
chilly  climate  and  high  culture. 

There  was  no  handle  of  weakness  to  hold  her  by.  She  was  as  uusiz- 
able,  except  in  hei-  entirety,  as  a  billiard  ball.  On  the  broad  table  where 
she  had  been  knocked  about,  like  all  of  us,  by  the  cue  of  fortune,  she 
glances  on  one  attack  and  caroms  on  another,  and  rebounds  with  exact 
and  angular  movements. 

Concerning  literature  in  general,  and  the  transcendental 
school  in  particular,  our  essayist  interjects  the  remark: 

In  the  first  part  of  the  nineteenth  century  a  great  wave  of  didactic 
literature  swept  over  the  English  and  American  reading  public.  A  large 
number  of  conscientious  ladies  and  gentlemen  simultaneously  discovered 
that  they  could  write  improving  books,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  do  so. 
Their  aim  was  to  make  the  path  of  duty  so  absolutely  plain  that  the 
"wayfaring  man,  though  a  fool,  could  not  err  therein."  The  wayfaring 
man  who  was  more  generously  endowed  had  a  hard  tlnie  of  it  by  reason 
of  the  advice  which  was  thrust  upon  him.  The  Laborer's  Guide,  The 
Parent's  As-sistant,  The  Afllicied  Man's  Companion,  were  highly  esteemed 
by  persons  who  liked  to  have  a  book  to  tell  thorn  to  go  in  when  it  rained. 

That  our  essayist  is  up  to  date  in  illustrations  cannot  be 
denied.  He  says  the  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table  was  not 
easy  to  write.  Xo  good  book  is.  The  writer  who  is  unusually 
fluent  shouhl  take  waiiiing  from  the  instructions  which  accompany 
his  fduntaln  ])en :  "'When  this  pen  flows  too  freely  it  is  a  sign 
that    it    is    nearly   euinlv    and   should   be   relllled."      For    myself, 


193  01  A  New  Essayist  273 

C'rollicrs  is  nnnsuallj  suggestive.  Laurence  Sterne  gives  the 
pecret  of  his  own  method  of  writing.  "In  course/'  said  Yorick, 
*'in  a  tone  two  parts  jest  and  one  part  earnest."  Though  you  must 
be  shaken  out  of  your  indifference  and  dullness  by  the  jest,  you  are 
impressed,  in  Crothers's  essays,  that  tlicre  are  at  least  two  parts 
of  motive  and  conviction  to  one  part  of  jest.  He  is  prodigal  of 
ihoTight.  What  Dr  Kolmes  said  about  himself  would,  much  of  it, 
a})ply  to  Crothcrs.  "I  talk  half  the  time  to  find  out  my  own 
thoughts,  as  a  schoolboy  turns  his  pockets  inside  out  to  see  what 
is  in  them." 

Crothers's  first  book  of  essays  is  the  one  in  the  "Pigskin 
Library"  entitled  The  Gentle  Eeadc]-.  Following  that  came  The 
Pardoner's  Wallet,  in  1905,  and  By  the  Christmas  Fire  in  1908. 
The  frontispiece  of  his  last  book.  By  the  Christmas  Fire,  repre- 
sents an  old  man  sitting  in  an  armchair  and  stirring  the  fire  in  the 
fu-e|)laee  with  a  poker,  and  the  first  essay  is  on  "The  Bayonet 
Poker."  ".As  I  sit  by  my  Christmas  fire  I  now  and  then  give  it  a 
poke  with  my  bayonet.  It  is  an  old-fashioned  British  bayonet 
which  has  seen  worse  days.  I  picked  it  up  in  a  little  shop  in 
Birmingham  for  two  shillings.  I  was  attracted  to  it,  as  I  am  to 
all  reformed  characters.  "  The  hardened  old  sinner,  having  had 
enough  of  war,  was  a  candidate  for  a  peaceful  position,  and  I  was 
glad  to  have  a  hand  in  his  reformation.  To  transform  a  sword  into 
a  ])lowshare  is  a  matter  for  a  skilled  smith,  but  to  change  a  bayonet 
into  a  prtker  is  within  the  capacity  of  a  loss  skilled  mechajiic. 
All  that  is  needed  is  to  forsake  the  murderous  rifle  barrel  and 
cleave  to  it  a  short  wooden  handle.  Henceforth  its  mission  is 
ni>t  to  thrust  itself  into  the  vitals  of  men,  but  to  encourage  com- 
bii.-tion  on  winter  nights."  And  then  he  falls  to  philosophizing  as 
tu  how  the  bayonet  poker  fits  into  the  Christmas  idea.  One  does 
not  wonder  that  Boosevelt  was  pleased  to  take  with  him  Tlie 
Cniille  Peader.  It  would  be  just  the  kind  of  a  book  for  a  man  to 
read  when  he  had  unbuckled  his  belt,  unwound  his  buckskins, 
gotten  all  the  comfort  he  could  out  of  a  rubber  bathtub,  and  was 
^•■alcd  uiKh'r  a  baobab  tree,  with  his  feet  on  the  carcass  of  a  lion, 
Jit  ]vace  with  liimself  and  all  the  world.  In  more  civilized  lands 
till'  book  wotild  make  a  firuc  background  with  the  foregTOund  filled 


27-1-  McUiod'tsl  Review  [-March 

by  a  fircplaco,  Avith  a  foot-stove  aiul  a  warniiug-pau  in  iho,  corner, 
and  apples,  nnls  and  poiK-orn  Avitliin  easy  reach.  AVhat  a  pity  that 
such  a  delightful  settiiig  is  almost  imposbible  to  find  in  our  day! 
Somebody  has  said  that  "even  the  iiames  which  reminded  us  of 
happy  days  ai-c  ])assed  away."  Even  periodicals  ai-e  changed  to 
suit  the  times,  and  instead  of  Tlie  Christian  Fireside,  we  have 
The  Christian  J^cgisicr.  Here  is  literature  for  literature's  sake. 
There  is  no  terrible  moral  to  make  your  heart  beat  fast  or  stare 
you  out  of  conceit  with  yourself,  no  reminder  that  you  are  wasting 
your  time  if  you  undertake  anything  less  than  the  Higher  Criti- 
cism or  Hegelian  Cosmology.  "The  Gentle  Header"  !  how  familiar 
that  sounds.  As  if  you  had  just  taken  down  a  cloth-covered  book, 
Idack,  of  course,  printed  in  1^-20  or  earlier,  and,  blowing  off  tlie 
dust,  had  opened  at  the  Preface. 

What  has  become  of  the  Gentle  Reader?  Oue  does  not  like  to  think 
that  he  has  passed  away,  with  the  stagecoach  and  the  Weekly  News  Letter, 
and  that  henceforth  we  are  to  he  confronted  only  by  the  stony  glare  of  the 
Intelligent  Reading  Public.  They  used  to  dedicate  books  to  him  genera- 
tions ago,  and  stop  in  the  very  middle  of  a  story  to  address  a  word  of 
apology  or  explanation  to  the  Gentle  Reader.  .  .  .  Nobody  but  the 
Gentle  Reader  could  take  up  a  dull  book  and  enjoy  it  in  the  spirit  in  which 
it  was  written.  The  generation  that  delighted  in  Fielding  and  Richardson 
had  some  staying  power.  A  book  was  something  to  tie  to.  No  one  would 
say  jauntily,  "I  have  road  Sir  Charles  Grandison,"  but  only,  "I  am  rcadiTig 
it."  The  characters  of  fiction  were  not  treated  as  transient  guests,  but  as 
life-long  companions,  destined  to  be  a  solace  in  old  age.  The  short  story, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  invented  for  people  who  want  a  literary  quick  lunch. 
"Tell  me  a  story,"  cries  the  greedy  dovourer  of  modern  literature.  "Serve 
it  hot,  and  be  mighty  quick  about  it."     .     .     . 

Of  all  the  devices  for  promoting  a  good  understanding  with  the  Gentle 
Reader  the  old-fashioned  preface  was  the  most  excellent.  In  these  days 
the  preface  is  reduced  to  the  smallest  possible  space.  It  is  like  the  plat- 
form of  an  electric  car,  which  affords  the  passenger  a  precarious  foothold 
while  he  strives  to  oboy  the  stern  demand  of  the  conductor  that  he  move 
forward.  But  time  was  wlien  the  ineface  was  the  wide,  hospitable  porch 
on  which  the  author  and  the  roadcj-  .sat  for  an  hour  or  so  and  talked  over 
the  subject  that  was  before  thtm.  Sometimes  they  talked  so  long  that 
they  almost  forgot  tlieir  ostensible  subject. 

There  is  one  cliajilc^r  on  '•'The  ]\ris<ion  of  ]lumor."  and  one  on 
-Tlie  Gentle  l^  a.lrr's  Friend.-^  Among  the  Clergy."  In  the  first 
essay  the  authui-  says: 


-jtliO]  A  Xcw  Essnijist  275 

An  artistic  sensibility  finds  its  satisfaction  only  in  the  perfect.  Humor 
Is  the  frank  enjoyment  of  the  irapoifect.  Its  objects  are  not  so  high,  but 
there  are  more  of  them.  Evolution  is  a  cos;mic  game  of  "Pussy  wants  a 
corner."  Each  creature  has  its  eye  on  some  snug  corner  •where  it  would 
rest  in  peace.  The  corner  is  occupied  by  some  other  creature  that  is  not 
altogether  satisfied,  rmd  he  is  on  the  lookout  for  some  larger  sphere.  There 
is  much  beckoning  between  those  who  are  desirous  of  making  a  change. 
Now  and  then  some  bold  spirit  gives  up  his  position  and  scrambles  for 
Fomething  better.  The  chances  are  that  the  adventurer  finds  it  harder 
to  attain  the  coveted  place  than  he  had  thought.  For  the  fact  is  that  there 
are  not  enough  corners  to  go  around.  If  there  were  enough  corners,  and 
everyone  were  content  to  stay  in  the  one  where  he  found  himself  at  the 
beginning,  then  the  game  would  be  impossible.  It  is  well  that  this  never 
happens.  Nature  looks  after  that.  When  things  are  too  homogeneous 
she  breaks  them  up  into  new  and  amazing  kinds  of  .heterogeneity.  It  is 
a  good  game,  and  one  learns  to  like  it  after  he  enters  into  the  spirit  of  it. 

Humor  is  impossible  to  a  man  of  one  idea.  There  must  be  at  least 
two  ideas  moving  in  opposite  directions  so  that  there  Avill  be  a  collision. 
Such  does  not  happen  in  a  mind  under  economic  management  that  only 
runs  one  train  of  thought  a  day. 

j\)i(\  ihvu  our  raithor  Lriiigs  us  samples  of  humor  from  the  days 
of  ihc  great  Samuel  Johuson  dowii  to  the  good-humored  Charles 
Lamb. 

''There  has  been  such  a  falling  off  in  clerical  character,"  says 
the  Gentle  Eeader. 

In  the  old  books  it  was  a  pleasure  to  meet  a  parson.  He  was  so  simple 
at  heart  that  you  feel  at  home  with  him  at  once.  You  know  just  where 
you  will  find  him,  and  he  always  takes  him.self  and  his  profession  for 
granted.  He  may  be  a  trifle  narrow,  but  you  make  allowances  for  that, 
and  as  for  his  charity,  it  has  no  limits.  You  expect  him  to  give  away 
everything  he  lays  his  hands  on.  As  for  his  creed,  it  is  always  the  same 
a.s  tlic  church  to  which  he  belongs,  which  is  a  great  relief  and  saves  no 
end  of  trouble.  But  the  clergyman  I  meet  with  in  novels  nowadays  is  in 
a  chronic  state  of  fidgetiness.  Nothing  is  as  it  seems  or  ought  to  be.  He 
Is  as  full  of  problems  as  an  egg  is  full  of  meat.  When  the  busy  man  is 
not  fretting  against  all  evildoers  he  begins  to  fret  because  of  the  welldoers, 
who  do  well  in  the  old-fashioned  way  without  any  proper  knowledge  of 
the  higher  criticism  or  sanitary  drainage.  He  is  one  of  those  trying  char- 
acters of  whom  some  one  h;xs  said  that  "we  can  hear  their  souls  scr.ipo." 
I  prefer  the  old-time  parsons.  They  were  much  more  comfortable  and  in 
more  rugged  honllh.  I  like  the  phrase  "Bi.shops  and  other  clergy." 
Bi-sboii.s  aio  great  ))oisonages,  whose  lives  are  written,  and,  like  the  lives 
ct  flu.-  Lord  Chancellors,  ihey  are  not  alway.s  very  readable.  But  my  heart 
l-oi-.s  out  to  the  "other  clergy,"  the  good,  sensible  men,  who  were  not  gieat 


276  Mclhodist  Review  [j^Iarcli 

scholars,  reformers  nor  martyrs,  and  therefore  do  not  get  Into  the  church 
histories,  but  who  keep  things  going.  It  would  be  interesting  to  discover 
the  origin  of  the  idea  that  sermons  are  long.  A  sermon  is  seldom  as  long 
as  it  seems.  But  it  is  always  v.-ith  trepidation  that  the  listener  observef? 
in  a  discourse  a  constitutional  tendency  to  longevity.  In  his  opinion,  the 
good  die  young. 

The  Gentle  Reader  diseoiirses  njost  bofiulifnlly  about  the  Canter- 
bury Tales,  and  reminds  ns  that  they  end  with  the  Canterbury 
Sermon.  He  says  there  was  one  ministerial  -weakness  from  which 
Chaucer's  parson  was  free,  the  love  of  alliteration.  He  recalls 
that  bit  of  history  distressing  to  every  Iiopublican,  how  a  worthy 
clergyman  was  addicted  to  this  habit  and  instead  of  the  "three 
R's"  emimerated  mm,  Eomanism,  and  rebellion.  The  chances 
are  that  he  meant  no  offense  to  liis  Roman  Catholic  fellow  citizens, 
but,  once  on  the  toboggan  slide  of  alliteration,  he  could  not  stop.  If 
instead  of  rum  he  had  begun  with  Avhisky,  his  homiletic  instinct 
would  ha^'c  led  him  to  say  that  the  three  perils  of  the  republic  are 
"whisky,  war,  and  woman  sutrrage."  Out  of  Shakespeare  the 
Gentle  Reader  culls  an  interesting  fellowship  for  the  parson. 

When  Mr.  Slender  declares  liis  resolution,  "After  this  I'll  ne'er  be 
drunk  while  I  live  again,  but  in  honest,  civil,  godly  company.  If  I  be 
drunk,  I'll  be  drunk  with  those  who  fear  God,"  the  convivial  curate  re- 
sponds, "So  God  judge  me,  that  shows  a  virtuous  mind."  So  late  as  the 
eighteenth  century  a  traveler  in  "Wales  lemarks  that  the  ale  house  was 
usually  kept  by  the  parson.  One  wonders,  then,  whether  the  Welsh  min- 
isters' meetings  were  given  over  to  lugubrious  essays  on  "Why  We  Don't 
Reach  the  Masses." 

You  will  be  glad  to  tramp  vrith  tlio  Gentle  Reader  down  the  litera- 
ture of  the  centuries,  and  stop  now  and  then  at  the  welcome  door 
of  a  cheery  parson. 

For  mental  alertnc;ss  and  keen  thrust  at  human  foibles 
Crothers's  best  essays  are  doubtless  to  be  found  in  The  Pardoner's 
Wallet.  Our  essayist  says :  "I  have  no  i)lea  to  make  for  this  Four- 
teenth Century  pardoner."  A  few  bites  out  of  his  chapter  on 
"rrejudiccs"  will  serve  U'^  to  get  its  llavor.     For  instance: 

It  is  only  during  a  heated  campaign  that  we  think  of  all  the  opposing 
partie.s  as  rascals.    There  is  time  between  elections  to  make  the  necessary 


1010]  A   New  Essayist  277 

exceptions.  It  Is  customary  to  make  allowances  loi'  a  certain  amount  of 
partisan  bias,  just  as  the  college  faculty  allows  a  student  a  certain  num- 
ber of  cuts.  It  is  a  just  recognition  of  human  weakness.  Religious  preju- 
dice is  a  combination  of  religion  and  several  decidedly  earthly  passions. 
The  combination  produces  a  peculiarly  dangerous  explosive.  The  religious 
element  has  the  same  part  in  it  as  innocent  glycerin  has  in  nitro  glycerin. 
This  is  a  combination  produced  by  a  mixture  of  nitric  and  sulphuric  acid 
on  glycerin  at  low  temperatures.  It  is  observable  that  in  the  making  of 
religious  prejudice  the  religion  is  kci)t  at  a  very  low  temperature  indeed. 
To  love  our  friends  is  the  work  of  nature;  to  love  our  enemies  is  the  work 
of  grace.  The  troublesome  thing  is  to  get  on  with  those  that  are  betwixt 
and  between.  In  such  a  case  we  are  likely  to  fall  between  nature  and 
grace,  as  between  two  stools.  Almost  anyone  can  be  magnanimous  in 
great  affairs,  but  to  be  magnanimous  in  trifles  is  like  trying  to  use  a  large 
screwdriver  to  turn  a  small  screw.  It  is  pleasant  to  see  brethren  dwelling 
together  In  unity,  but  it  is  seldom  prolonged  to  the  poiot  of  satiety. 

Every  intellectual  investigator  who  lias  bis  logical  faculiies  con- 
stantly under  strain  will  find  rare  delight  iji  his  essay,  *'How  to 
Know  the  Fallacies."  It  is  evidently  modeled  on  that  excellent 
treatise  for  the  uninitiated,  ^'IIow  to  Know  the  "Wild  Flowers." 
This  chapter  is  really  the  product  of  his  friend,  ''Scholasticus." 
Scholasticus,  it  ought  to  be  said,  was  in  a  bad  way.  JIo  had  been 
educated  before  the  elective  system  came  in  and  he  had  a  pathetic 
veneration  for  the  curriculum  of  his  day.  It  was  to  him  the 
sacred  ark  now,  alas,  carried  away  into  the  land  of  the  Philistines. 
He  would  say: 

"The  intellectual  world  is  topsy-turvy.  What  is  to  be  expected  of  a 
generation  that  learns  to  write  before  it  learns  to  read,  and  learns  to  read 
before  it  Icarus  to  spell;  or,  rather,  which  never  does  learn  to  spell?  In 
his  day  small  children  were  supposed  to  bo  pleased  with  a  rattle  and 
tickled  with  a  straw.  But  nowadays  even  babies  begin  with  the  esoteric 
doctrine  of  their  playthings.  Having  made  a  false  start,  he  goes  farther 
and  farther  into  the  wilderness.  He  is  very  observing,  but  he  does  not 
put  two  and  two  together.  There  they  stand  in  his  mind,  two  separate 
Ideas,  politely  ignoring  one  another  because  they  have  not  been  properly 
Introduced.  How  many,  people  do  you  come  across  with  whom  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  hold  an  argument?  Not  many.  They  don't  know  the  rules  of 
the  game."  ...  In  his  day  folks  knew  how  to  deal  with  knotty  problems. 
"If  thoy  survived  the  school  they  could  not  be  drowned  in  a  tov,-n  meeting." 

Our  essayist  labors  with  him.  Every  sy.<fein  has  its  failures. 
If  that  of  the  present  day  seems  to  have  more  than  its  share  it  is 
because  its  failures  are  still  in  evidence  wliile  those  of  your  gen- 


278  Mclhodhl  Beview  [March 

('ration  arc  mostly  forgotten.  At  last  it  was  inferred  that  Schola>;- 
ticns  was  writing  a  b.xjk.  It  api)cars  in  due  time  with  the  title 
which  heads  our  essay.  In  the  preface  we  arc  told  that  arguments 
as  they  arc  found  in  tlic  state  of  nature  arc  of  two  kinds — those 
that  liang  together,  and  those  that  only  seem  to  hang  together. 
These  hitter  are  called  ''fallacies." 

"The  senrch  for  fallacies  need  never  ta];e  one  far  afield.  The  collector 
may  find  almost  all  known  varieties  in  his  own  iuclosure.  Tlie  tronble 
with  thinking  straight  is  that  it  is  likely  to  take  us  too  far  from  home. 
The  first  we  Icnow  we  are  facing  new  issues.  From  this  peril  we  are  saved 
by  the  habit  of  going  round  and  round.  He  who  argues  and  runs  away 
from  the  real  diiTicnUy  lives  to  argue  another  day,  and  the  best  of  it  is 
the  argument  will  be  just  the  same." 

In  the  S])ccies  argiDncnhim  ad  Itomincm,  he  says  there  are  few 
greater  i)lcasurcs  in  life  than  that  of  having  all  our  preferences 
justified  hy  our  i-ea-on.  Snch  ])eople  never  do  wrong.  For  the 
more  they  think  ahunt  it  the  more  pleased  they  are  with  them- 
selves. ''They  are  like  a  person  who  tumbles  into  the  Dead  Sea. 
lie  cariuot  go  under  if  he  tries." 

There  is  a  fine  chapter  on  the  "Cross-fertilization  of  the 
Fallacies."  TIk;  author  sjiows  how  two  half-principles  brought 
together  from  t\vo  widtly  scpai-ato  fields  will  produce  a  new  and 
magnificently  variegated  foi'in  of  ojiinion.  "The  hybrid  "we  ]:>ro- 
duce  surpasses  ciiher  of  the  specimens  of  the  parent  stock  in  size 
and  shov.dness.  Thus  a  half  truth  of  popular  religion  cross- 
fertilized  by  a  half  ti-iilh  of  i)opnlar  scieiice  v.-ill  produce  a  hybrid 
which  astojiishes  b.jih  the  religious  and  scientific  world.  If  we 
follow  the  analogy  of  malheniatics,  we  might  assume  that  two 
half  ti'uths  would  make  a  whole  truth,  but  when  we  an-  dealing 
with  the  nnirvelou-ly  j-nMlnetivi-  jiowers  of  nature  we  fin.d  that  they 
make  much.  ]iiorc  than  ihal."  And  there  is  a  chapter  or  \\\o  on  the 
"Dv.-ar,'ing  of  Argnmont."  "l"hc  cumijlaint  is  sometimes  heard 
that  an  argument  which  is  otherwise  satisfactory  proves  too  much. 
This  may  seem  a  good  fault  to  tho-^e  whose  chief  difficulty  is  in 
nniking  tlulr  argnuioms  ])rove  anything  at  all.  P>ut  I  a-<sure 
you  it  is  i-eally  voi'y  ii'onblest.me  to  find  th;ii  you  have  proved  more 
than  you  intend. 'd.  '^'ou  may  have  no  facilities  for  dealing  with 
the  stn-plus  conclusions.      For  this  reason   many  persons,  instead 


J  910]  A  New  Essayist  279 

of  cultivating  arguments  of  standard  size,  which  take  a  good  deal 
of  room,  jn-cfcr  the  dwarf  varieties."  In  the  chapter  on  the  use 
of  "Artilicial  Fertilizers,"  Scholasticus  dM^ells  particularly  upoii 
statistics.  lie  savs  their  importance  in  the  cultivation  of  valid 
argnnients  is  nnivei'sally  acknowledged.  But  in  this  case  success 
depends  upon  the  extreme  care  with  which  they  are  used. 

If  solid  conclusions  that  head  vrell  arc  expected,  only  experts  of  good 
character  can  be  trusted  to  do  the  work.  There  is  no  such  difnculty  in  the 
use  of  statistics  if  the  grower  is  content  with  arguments  of  the  fallacious 
order.  Statistics  are  recommended  for  a  mulch.  By  covering-  a  bed  of 
fallacies  with  a  heavy  mulch  of  statistical  matter  it  is  protected  from  the 
early  frosts  and  the  later  drought.  The  ground  of  the  argument  is  kept 
thus  in  good  condition.  Xo  particular  care  is  here  needed  in  the  applica- 
lion  of  statistics.  Any  man  w^ho  can  haiidle  a  pitchfork  can  do  all  that  is 
required.  I  have  seen  astonishing  results  obtained  in  this  way.  No  one 
!U:ed  be  deterred  by  the  consideration  of  expense.  In  these  days  statistics 
arc  £0  cheap  that  they  are  within  the  reach  of  all.  If  you  do  not  care  to 
UPC  the  material  freely  distributed  by  the  government,  you  can  easily 
collect  a,  sufficient  amount  for  yourself. 

Our  essayist  congratulated  Scholasticus  on  his  hook  and  saiil: 
'•You  have  taught  ns  by  a  natural  method  how  to  reason  falla- 
ciously. I  wish  you  would  now  teach  us  how  to  reason  correctly." 
''I  wish  1  could,"  said  Scholasticus. 

And  now,  as  v>e  leave  our  essayist,  just  a  glance  under  the 
mask  of  Thalia.  Because  the  author  has  a  reputation  as  a  humor- 
ist, let  him  not  he  received  with  an  expectant  smile.  Xothing  could 
be  more  disconcci'ting  to  his  sensitive  spirit,  and  besides,  how  can 
you  know  that  he  has  not  a  very  serious  message  to  connnunicale  ? 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,"  wo  say  lightly,  knowing  that  this  hidden 
treasure  cannot  be  bought.  The  world  may  be  described  in  a  formal 
fashion,  a.s  if  it  were  an  unchanging  reality;  but  how  the  world  appears 
to  each  inliabitant  of  it  he  alone  can  declare.  Now  and  then  is  one  born 
with  a  gift  of  true  self-expression.  In  his  speech  we  recognize  the  real 
per.-on,  and  not  the  confused  murmur  of  a  multitude.  Institutions  and 
tr.Kiitions  do  not  account  for  him;  liis  thought  is  the  more  fundamental 
fact.  Here  is  a  unique  bit  of  knowledge.  There  is  no  other  way  of  getting 
at  it  than  that  of  the  Gentle  Reader— to  .shut  out  the  rest  of  the  world  and 
1!  OMi  to  the  man  hipjsolf. 


^.^ 


^■l^S-C^ 


.y" 


280  Methodist  Review  [March 


Akt.  IX.— ^[usic  axd  worship 

The  place  of  music  in  worship  is  a  fundamental  one.  [Music 
is  a  natural  method  of  expressing  religious  thought  and  emotion, 
planned  by  God  as  a  means  of  communication  between  God  and 
man.  It  is  the  oldest  of  the  arts  and  common  to  all  nations.  In 
the  history  of  Ilebi-ew  woi-ship  we  can  trace  it  back  to  Jubal,  the 
grandson  of  Methusacl,  ^^•ho  in  turn  was  the  great -great-grandson 
of  Cain.  His  half  brother,  Tul)al-C"nin,  is  revered  as  the  founder 
of  the  family  of  "Smiths,"  and  Jubal  is  referred  to  as  "the  father 
of  all  such  as  handle  the  harp  and  pipe."*  In  corroboration  of 
the  Genesis  history  is  the  persisting  fact  that  the  Persian  and 
Arabian  name  for  musician  is  "Kayne."  Music  had  attained  an 
elaborate  development  when  Jacob  fled  from  the  house  of  his 
father-in-law,  as  is  revealed  by  the  reproach  of  Laban  when  he 
overtook  the  fugitive:  "Wherefore  didst  thou  flee  secretly,  and 
steal  away  from  me,  and  didst  not  tell  me,  that  I  might  have  sent 
thee  away  with  mirth  and  with  songs,  with  tabrct  and  with  harp  ?"^ 
Job  mentions  the  three  possible  kinds  of  instruments — percussion, 
string,  and  wind — when  he  speaks  in  one  sentence  of  the  timbrel, 
the  harp,  and  the  pipe.^  Prom  the  most  ancient  times  music  has 
been  the  handmaid  of  worship.  Miriam  led  the  women  of  Israel 
with  timbrels  and  dances  as  they  sang  praises  unto  Jehovah  for 
their  deliverance  from  the  Egyptians.  With  the  elaboration  of 
Hebrew  worship  mu.sic  was  given  a  constantly  more  prominent 
place,  until,  in  the  old  age  of  Israel's  greatest  bard,  of  the  38,000 
Levites  4,000  were  musicians,  and  of  this  number  288  were  ac- 
counted skilled  musicians.'^  If  direct  sanctio7i  for  Christian  song 
were  needed,  it  could  be  found  in  Jesus  himself  leading  the  dis- 
ciples in  the  singing  of  a  psalm  before  they  went  from  the  upper 
chamber  to  the  gardeji  of  Gethsemane.  Paul  and  James  both 
exhort  their  readers  to  sing,'"'  and  in  song  Paul  and  Silas  gained 
consolation  in  prison  n\  the  midnight  hour.^  It  is  to  be  acknowl- 
edged, however,  that  when  we  spenk  of  music  we  mean  a  very  dif- 


«Gen.  4.  21;  Janica  5.  13.  "Ccn.  31    27. 

*l  Chroii.  23.  5:  25.  7.  'Col.  3.  IG;  Eph.  5.  19. 


1010]  j\hisic  and  Worship  281 

ferent  thing  from  tbe  timbrel-shaking  of  Miriam  and  the  trumpet- 
blowing  of  Joshua  and  even  the  harping  and  singing  of  David — yes, 
different  from  the  singing  of  Christ  and  the  apostles  and  even  the 
elaborate  music  of  the  Middle  Ages.  For  harmony  is  only  three 
hundred  years  old,  and  harmony  has  made  music  a  new  thing. 
Before  that  music  was  all  simple  melody,  just  a  succession  of 
single  tones,  sometimes  a  tune  well  pronounced,  again  not  even 
tuneful  enough  to  be  attractive  and  learnable.  With  the  discovery 
and  development  of  harmony  comes  the  balancing  of  note  over 
against  note  to  form  a  chord,  a  number  of  notes  sounded  at  the 
same  time,  harmoniously  and  pleasantly.  Instead  of  a  succession 
of  single  notes  music  has  become  a  succession  of  chords  with  the 
possibility  of  a  greater  variety  of  effects  than,  the  moves  upon  a 
chess  board.  With  the  understanding  of  the  theory  of  harmony 
lias  couK"  the  perfection  of  musical  in-lruments,  chief  among  which 
in  value  have  been  the  organ  and  piano,  which  place  under  the  easy 
and  constant  control  of  the  operator  two  full  octaves  and  make 
possible  the  reproduction  of  almost  infinite  variety  of  effects.  And 
now,  the  mere  "concord  of  sweet  sounds"  may  be  worshipful.  The 
mind  untutored  in  the  intricacies  of  music  is  lifted  into  the  heaven- 
lies  by  Verdi's  Requiem  or  the  Angel's  Song  in  Guilmant's  Funeral 
March. 

The  vibratory  theory  of  sound  and  light  is  accepted  ps  fact. 
The  air  vibrates  and  we  hear  either  a  noise  or  a  musical  note. 
If  the  vibration  is  ver}-  slow,  the  ]iote  is  very  low  in  i)itch.  The 
faster  the  vibration  the  higher  the  pitch.  A  wire  string  vibrates 
sixteen  times  a  second.  The  string,  striking  the  air,  sets  the  air 
vibrating  in  time  with  it.  The  air  waves  beat  upon  the  inner  ear, 
and  there,  where  is  found  a  harp  with  eleven  thousayid  strings,  one 
string  res])onds  to  the  vibrations  of  the  air  and  a  sensation  is  car- 
ried to  the  brain,  and  we  hear  the  lowest  note  the  average  ear  is 
capable  of  distingui>^hing.  The  average  jiej-son  can  distinguish 
eleven  thousand  different  tones,  or  about  nine  octaves.  The  highest 
tone  the  human  ear  can  distinguish  is  usually  one  produced  by 
20,000  to  22,000  vibrations  a  second,  though  some  very  sensitive 
ears  can  receive  and  distinguish  vibrations  of  50,000  a  second. 
T]u>  extreme  limits  of  the  human  voice  seldom  pass  below  S7  or 


282  Mdhodist  Be  view  [:^farch 

above  778  vibrations  a  second,  although  Christine  Xilsson's  high 
F  above  high  C  means  1,3G5  vibrations  a  second.  Permeating  all 
matter  and  all  space  is  aii  attenuated  substance  known  as  ether. 
The  ether  vibrates,  and  the  vibrations  reach  the  flesh  and  heat  is 
felt.  The  vibrations  increase;,  and  the  retina  of  the  eye  is  alTected, 
and  we  see.  The  lowest  vibrations  of  ether  which  we  can  sense  are 
at  the  rate  of  18,000,000  a  second,  and  when  these  reach  ns  we  are 
conscious  of  heat.  The  iron  gets  hotter  and  hotter  until  the  vibra- 
tions sent  forth  are  471,982,000,000  a  second,  and  the  iron  glows, 
and  we  have  iT-acbed  the  point  of  luminosity,  or  red  heat.  The 
vibrations  still  increase  and  we  pass  through  the  spectrum  until 
Ave  reach  the  limit  in  the  vioh^t  colors  with  733,000,000,000  vibra- 
tions a  second.  Between  the  50,000  vibrations  of  the  highest 
musical  note  any  ear  is  ca])able  of  hearing  and  the  18,000,000 
vibrations  of  the  first  sensations  of  heat,  there  is  a  great  blank. 
Vibrations  there  certainly  arc.  but  we  cannot  sense  them.  They 
make  no  impression  uj^on  the  ear,  or  eye,  or  nerves  of  touch.  There 
is  reason  to  believe  that  there  are  vibrations  faster  than  the  rate  of 
the  deep  violets,  but  from  the  eye  of  man  they  are  concealed  and 
loerform  their  mii'acles  in  what  to  man  is  the  densest  dark)iess. 
God  has  set  the  universe  a-vibratiug.  lie  permits  man  to  discover 
but  a  part  of  his  secrets.  IL'id  we  soise  acute  enough,  who  knows 
what  pleasures  of  sense  would  be  ours  as  gi-eat  as  the  warmth  of 
the  May  sunshine,  as  inspiring  as  the  glories  of  the  sunset,  as 
satisfying  as  the  slatel}'  moveuient  of  A'on  ^Y elder's  symphony! 
And  so  music  is  nnule  by  God.  ]\lan  discovers  and  controls,  think- 
ing some  of  God's  thoughts  after  him,  but  not  all.  Music  is 
divine.     Says  ]3yron : 

There's  nuisic  in  (lie  sighing  of  the  rood, 
There's  music  in  llie  guyhiug  of  the  rill; 
There's  nuisic  in  all  things,  if  nu-n  had  ears, 
The  cartli  is  hut  an  echo  of  the  sjiheres. 

Beethoven  became  deaf  at  ihii-ty  and  some  of  his  greatest  com- 
positions were  ])rodueed  ■\vitliout  his  being  able  to  hear  them  save 
as  a  very  deaf  person  hears.  Wwi  his  soul  vibrated  in  harmony  with 
God  and  nature.  In  an  old  tree  outside  of  Vienna  he  composed  the 
Xinfh  Sym})huuy.     It  was  fu>t  played  in  Vienna  "May  7,  1S2-1-. 


in  10]  Music  and  Worship  2So 

TIk-  deaf  musician  himself  bold  the  baton  and,  unable  to  bear, 
conducted  tbe  orcbestra,  but  because  bis  soul  sang  tbc  wonderful 
liarinonies,  be  swayed  tbe  multitude  first  into  rapturous  silence 
and  tbcu  into  tumultuous  applause.  We  can  understand  soraetbing 
of  bow  tbis  could  be  wben  wc  read  bis  defaiiiion:  ^'Music  is  tbe 
iiiauifesiation  of  tbe  inner  essential  nature  of  all  tbat  is.'"  Thus 
tbc  modern  discoveries  in  tbe  field  of  music  add  confirmation  to  tbc 
historical  conclusion  that  music  has  a  fundamental  part  in  wor- 
ship. Unaided  by  human  voice  or  written  or  sj^oken  language, 
nnisic  can  touch  the  heart  and  bring  tbe  spirit  into  contact  with 
spirit,  the  composer,  tbe  interpreter,  tbe  hearer,  and  God. 

The  most  common  use  of  music  in  tbe  worship  of  to-day  is 
in  congregational  singing.  But  for  another  ]-eason  also  it  is  tbe 
most  important,  nainely,  because  of  its  expressive  value.  Tbe 
church  service  is  divided  naturally  into  two  parts,  as  the  various 
exercises  contribute  either  to  making  an  impression  or  aiding  in 
rxpresslon.  The  Scripture  reading  and  sermon  are  chiefly  for 
juirjjoses  of  impression.  True,  the  reading  of  tbe  psalms  is  often 
an  opportunity  for  tbe  entire  congregation  to  voice  their  prayer  in 
tbc  words  of  tbe  ancient  singer,  and  tlie  preaeber  often  speaks  for 
his  entire  audience  in  the  expression  of  lofty  sentiments.  But  t"be 
movement,  intelligently  directed,  is  toward  a  goal,  and  tbat  goal 
a  definite  expression  to  be  created.  0]i  the  other  hand,  prayer  and 
song  are  foi-  purposes  of  expression.  There  are  preachers  who  have 
tb<'  ri'))ulation  of  being  able  to  jfreacb  a  sermon  in  a  prnyi'.  Tbat 
i.-  never  r.]t])ropriate.  There  is  a  higher  function  for  tbe  ])ubHe 
I'lJiyi  r.  ]  I  should  1)e  addressed  to  God,  and  not  to  the  congregation. 
It  .'should  be  tbe  outpouring  of  tbe  full  heart,  not  an  elocutionary 
d' livery  before  a  company  of  people.  True  prayer  results  when 
tl.-e  ]u-ay-vr  so  identifies  himself  ^vitb  tbe  congregation  tbat  be 
(Idid.-s  tlicir  thoughts,  bears  their  burdens,  faces  their  difnculties, 
^^rnl:lr|^.^  ^y\^\^  their  temptations,  and  so  voices  them  tbat  the 
w.M>biper  feds,  ''There,  tbat  is  what  I  wanted  to  say."  So,  also, 
I  be  chief  value  of  tbe  hymn  is  as  a  means  of  expression.  Tbis 
l^alanee  should  be  kept.  The  organ,  choir,  and  soloist  are  mostly  on 
tbe  side  of  the  sermon,  and  add  to  the  imjn-essions  nnidc.  A';  a 
c!n\reb  we  have  gone  fai-  enr>ugb  in  our  emphasis  on  tlic  value  of 


284  Methodist  Bcvicw  []\Iarcli 

the  sermon.  The  ''foolishness  of  preaching"  is  still  the  chief  means 
of  winning  men  to  Christ,  but  every  congregation  needs  oppor- 
tnnitj  to  express  itself,  and  this  opportunity  is  found  preeminently 
in  the  congregational  hymn.  It  remains  to  be  said  that  there  is 
value  in  the  impression  of  true  expression.  As  the  singer  inter- 
prets faithfully  the  message  of  the  song,  as  the  player  lets  the 
soul  of  the  composer  speak  through  his  music,  as  the  preacher 
gives  effective  expression  to  his  message,  the  impression  is  suc- 
cessfully made,  and  who  is  there  who  has  not  felt  the  thrill  that 
comes  from  joining  with  the  gTcat  congregation  in  singing  the 
gi-eat  hymns  set  to  the  great  tunes  of  the  church,  when  throat  and 
lips,  as  well  as  mind  and  heart  and  soul,  vibrate  in  unison  with  the 
multitude ! 

How  to  secure  good  congregational  singing  is  one  of  the  most 
practical  questions  that  concern  the  conduct  of  public  worship. 
!Much  depends  upon  the  selection  of  the  hymns,  which  will  be  de- 
termined by  the  above  principles.  The  first  two  hyinns  are  for 
pure  worship,  chiefly,  an  expression  of  the  reach  of  the  soul  for 
God,  though  they  ma}'^  also  be  wisely  introductory  to  the  prayer  and 
sermon  in  sentiment.  The  third  hynm  is  the  great  opportunity. 
Whatever  else  it  does,  it  should  clinch  the  message  of  the  sermon. 
It  should  express  the  consequent  resolve  that  naturally  follows  the 
conclusion  of  the  message.  After  a  sermon  on  "Personal  Evange- 
lism," "Piescue  the  Perishing"  is  better  than  it  could  possibly  be 
at  the  beginning  of  the  service.  The  sermon  was  on  sin  and  for- 
giveness, and  the  closing  hymn,  "Pock  of  Ages,"  meant  more  to 
both  congregation  and  jireachor  than  it  ever  had  before,  and  the 
people  meant  what  they  sang.  Of  course,  only  words  that  are 
worth  while  will  be  admitted.  Perhaps^doggerel  has  its  place,  but 
it  is  not  in  the  church  hymnal.  Of  still  greater  importance  in 
securing  results  is  the  selection  of  singable  tunes.  ^lany  good 
hymns  have  been  doomed  to  oblivion  by  a  union  not  made  in 
heaven.  A  singable  tune  is  one  with  a  good  uK'lody,  or  "air."  A 
tune  with  an  easy,  natural,  flowing  melody  will  be  sung  success- 
fully by  any  congregation.  The  great  and  popular  hymns  arc  all 
sung  to  such  tunes.  Mueli  depends  upon  the  leading  of  the  sing- 
ing.    There  is  no  doubt  that  a  good  ]U'cce7itor,  backed  by  a  sympa- 


]91()]  Music  and  Worship  285 

tlictic  organist,  ^vill  secure  Ix'tter  results  than  anything  else.  A 
good  choir  is  of  great  assistance,  and  in  that  case  it  is  best  if  the 
loader  also  acts  as  precentor.  An  organist  -who  knows  how  can 
load  a  congregation  as  he  will,  within  certain  limits.  AVe  have  seen 
an  audience  melted  to  tears  just  bv  the  playing  of  a  hymn  intro- 
ductory to  its  singing,  and  then  sing  it  as  we  have  never  heard  it 
sung.  But  there  are  very  few  organists  who  can  lead  a  congregation 
in  singing.  As  a  rule  the  congregation  by  its  dragging  leads  the 
organist.  The  attitude  of  the  preacher  may  go  far  toward  makiiig 
for  success.  If  he  announces  a  hymn  with  enthusiasm  and  reads 
it  v.-ith  intelligence,  it  will  be  enthusiastically  and  intelligently 
.sung.  An  occasional  exhortation,  especially  in  learning  a  new 
hymn,  is  timely  in  a  ATcthodist  church,  though  few  to-day  would 
Fo  l.u-cak  the  dignilied  movement  of  the  service  as  to  follow  Wes- 
ley's rule  for  guarding  against  formality  in  worship,  especially  in 
pinging,  ''By  often  stopping  short  and  asking,  'Xow,  do  you  know 
what  you  said  last  ?  Did  you  speak  no  more  than  you  felt  V  " 
];iit  this  is  a  good  question  for  individuals  to  put  to  themselves. 
Only  cheerful  hymns  should  be  used.  Doleful  words  and  doleful 
tunes  have  no  place  in  a  Christian  service,  last  of  all  at  a  funeral. 
Xor  have  they  rightful  place  in  a  Christian  song  book.  Cultivate 
oxju-ession.  Xot  every  hymn  is  to  be  sung  on  the  gallop  or  with 
full  blare  of  trumpets.  Some  are  to  be  sung  in  whispers,  some  in 
dignified  and  stately  time.  In  almost  every  hymn  there  is  one 
verse  that  is  to  be  sung  more  softly  than  all  the  rest.  Use  the 
Koftcst  stops,  and  breathe  the  song-prayer  quietly.  Sometimes 
ning  a  stanza  without  accompaniment.  Learn  the  great  hymns  of 
the  church,  some  of  which  are  neglected,  like  "Creation,"  "Hark, 
Hark,  my  Soul,"  "Jerusalem  the  Golden,"  etc.  Sometimes  tell  the 
Mory  of  a  hymn.  Luther's  gi;)?at  battle  hynni  is  not  easy  to  sing. 
It  is  never  snug  in  theliiajority  of  churches.  But  tell  its  story, 
of.nnect  it  with  the  Reformation  and  the  trying  days  when  it 
brought  strength  to  the  reformers,  and  everyone  will  make  a  try 
as  the  notes  thuiulor  out,  "A  mighty  fortress  is  our  God."  Wesley's 
brief  rules  for  congregational  singing  might  well  be  commended 
to  every  congregation  to-day.  "L  Sing  all.  2.  Sing  Inslihj  and 
with  good  courage.     3.  Sing  modestly.     Do  not  bawl  so  as  to  be 


2SG  MclhoduH  Bcvicw  []\Iardi 

hoard  above  or  distinct  from  tbe  covigrcgatio]i.     4.   Sing  in  time. 
5.  Above  all.  sing  spirHuaUi//' 

Is  a  choir  a  good  thing?  It  depends  on  the  choir.  There  are 
three  things  thai  will  justify  a  choir.  First,  a  choir  is  vindicated 
if  it  helps  sccuic  good  congregational  singing.  If  a  choir  does  not 
do  this,  better  not  have  it.  Second,  a  choir  is  justified  if  it  aids  di- 
rectly in  the  worship.  The  anthem  must  be  more  than  a  mci-e  per- 
formance; it  must  lift  the  thoughts  above  tlie  inillinery  to  the  sl<ics, 
and  turn  them  away  from  the  dress  to  the  hearer's  own  inner  life. 
Third,  last,  and  least,  a  choir  is  vindicated  if  it  make  the  service 
attractive.  Especially  amid  the  temptations  of  the  city,  where  for 
selfish  reasons  the  world  caters  to  the  love  of  the  beautiful  and 
ennobling,  the  church  cannot  be  behind  in  making  the  service  at- 
tractive. But  this  purjjose  standing  alone  is*  not  a  safe  guide  for 
the  embellishment  of  the  service.  "We  sometimes  forget  that  we 
possess  a  power  of  attraction  tliat  the  world  has  not.  The  church 
cannot  hope  to  cope  with  the  grand  opera  in  the  production  of 
music  in  itself,  nor  should  it  make  the  attempt.  The  function  of 
the  church  is  to  produce  truly  worsliipful  music.  This  test  of  at- 
tracti\eness  should  be  secondary  to  the  other  two  tests,  w^hich  should 
never  be  sacrificed  to  arjyone's  notion  of  atti-activeness.  After  all, 
true  worship  draws  the  best,  and  music  which  contrilmtes  to 
worship  will  be  the  most  permanently  attractive.  What  is  necessary 
in  order  to  have  such  a  choir  ?  First  of  all,  a  devout  and  cajiable 
leader,  a  good  musician,  but  more,  a  consecrated  man.  One  such 
has  been  a  leader  of  ihe  choir  in  a  city  church  for  more  than  twenty- 
five  years,  lie  has  been  with  tlie  society  from  the  time  it  was  a 
struggling  child  until  it  now  ranks  as  one  of  the  largest  in  the 
denomination.  lie  is  a  member  of  the  church  and  interested  in  all 
her  wo]'k.  In  the  preaching  service,  in  prayer  and  revival  meetings 
he  is  a  power  with  tlie  music.  It  is  the  testimony  of  those  who 
know  his  work  that  his  contribution  to  the  effectiveness  of  that 
chui'ch  is  greater  than  that  of  any  one  ]-»ast<">r  they  have  had.  ]\[ay 
his  like  increase!  A  second  essential  is  Christian  singers.  The 
choir  box  and  the  organ  stool  should  be  dedicated  to  the  occupancy 
of  none  others.  Exjierience  is  liack  of  the  contention  that  the 
poorest  way  to  make  u  Christian  of  an  unconverted  njan  is  to  give 


]()J0]  Music  and  Worship  2S7 

him  a  position  in  the  church,  cither  in  the  board  of  trustees  or  tlie 
choir  box.  A  third  essential  is  a  Avise  selection  of  music.  !No  rule 
can  supply  the  place  of  comruon  sense,  aud  if  the  Lord  has  not 
given  the  leader  what  the  lamented  Dr.  Uphani  called  '^the  fourth 
blessing,"  the  case  is  hopeless.^  There  is  a  simple  test  bj  which 
all  vocal  selections  may  be  judged.  That  is  a  good  selection  which 
leaves  the  message  of  the  words  in  your  mind  and  warms  your  heart 
to  respond  to  that  message.  The  words  form  the  jewel.  The  music 
is  the  setting.  The  jewel  must  be  worth  while,  and  the  setting  must 
reveal  and  utilize  all  the  latent  beauties  and  potencies.  Mobt  choir 
music  is  bad.  We  endure  a  great  deal  in  patience  because  of  ihe 
good  selections  we  sometimes  hear.  Often  the  words  seem  to  be  the 
mere  excuse  for  jumbling  together  strange  musical  combinations, 
and  in  rendition  there  is  too  much  noise  and  not  enough  of  that 
sweet  melody  and  ricli  harmouy,  sung  with  true  expression,  which 
requires  no  special  cultivation,  but  only  a  musical  soul,  to  enjoy. 

The  same  underlying  principles  should  govern  the  use  of  solo 
music  in  the  church  service.  There  is  something  more  essential 
than  mere  musical  excellence.  Given  a  reasonably  good  voice,  the 
next  most  important  thing  is  the  spirit  of  the  singer.  The  earnest, 
simple,  devoted  Sankey  is  more  acceptable  aud  serviceable  than  the 
trained -opera  singer  who  airs  her  immoralities  in  the  divorce  court. 
Music,  real  music,  is  spiritual.  By  it  one  soul  speaks  to  another. 
Sacred  music  has  as  its  theme  the  deepest,  the  loftiest,  the  holi<'st 
thoughts  and  emotions  of  life.  To  the  candidate  for  a  position  in 
the  choir  loft  may  well  be  addressed  the  words  of  Horace  to  the 
l>octs,  ''If  you  wish  to  touch  my  heart,  you  must  begin  by  showing 
me  that  you  have  touched  your  own."  The  next  most  important 
tiling  is  a  grasp  of  the  message,  an  intelligent  understanding  of  the 
]'oet  and  the  composer.  Th^  third  essential  is  a  clear  enunciation. 
It  would  be  just  as  edifying  to  sing  before  an  American  congre- 

'  Wc  will  azTce  that  John  Wesley  was  n  little  extreme  on  (hk  point,  and  yet  ve  have 
cftci.  bcMi  compelled  to  sympathize  with  his  ciitici^ni  of  the  fii?:uc  in  liis  remarks  u\>on  the 
omtorio  Ju<lif|,  wliieh  he  heard  performed  at  Lock  in  1764:  "Some  i>arts  of  it  were  cNceed- 
iiig  hnp;  l.uf  there  arc  two  thin-S  in  modern  music  which  I  could  never  reconcile  to  common 
Kii-fj-.  Oiip  is.  sincin.;  the  same  words  ton  tiinea  over;  the  other,  sin.L'ins  different  words  hy 
dincrent  peR>ons,  at  one  and  the  same  time.  And  this  in  the  most  solcnm  addresses  to  God 
whether  l>y  way  of  prayer  or  thanks^iviii:;.  Tiiia  can  never  t;e  defended  by  all  the  musitians 
ill  Kurope.  till  reason  is  quite  out  of  date." 


288  Mclhodht  Bevicw  [March 

gation  in  IIongL'ong  Cliinosc  as  to  so  butcher  the  "words  of  a  soug 
that  the  hearers  cannot  uiKhM'staiul.  The  singer  mnst  be  allowed 
some  liberties  with  ]»roniniciatioii  in  order  to  accommodate  the 
words  to  proper  vocalization,  but  the  permissible  limit  is  passed 
when  the  least  trained  auditor  fails  to  understand.  To  preach, 
read,  or  sing  anything  in  Christia)i  worship  that  cannot  be  under- 
stood is  ail  abomination  and  sin.  Last  of  all  comes  the  vocal  art, 
applied  specifically  to  vocal iznl ion.  Do  not  misunderstand.  Xo 
training  is  too  fine  for  the  worship  of  God.  But  given  a  good  voice, 
intelligence,  and  good  enunciation,  then  simple  naturalness  is  more 
pleasing  than  the  finest  art,  so  called,  without  these  characteristics. 
The  truth  is,  however,  that  the  former  is  the  higher  art,  and  that 
the  true  art  of  singing  is  exemplified  in  this  total  analysis. 

A  good  organist  is  one  of  God's  best  gifts  to  a  modern  church. 
A  poor  organist  can  spoil  everything  and  disj^el  all  symptoms  of 
true  worship.  If  the  organist  is  at  once  a  real  musician  and  a  lover 
of  God,  and  has  a  reasonable  gift  of  common  sense,  he  will  need  no 
rules  to  make  him  invaluable  to  the  proper  conduct  of  v/orshij). 
This  organist,  in  his  unselfishness,  does  not  consider  church  worship 
an  oi)porlunity  to  display  his  talent.  He  never  drowns  the  con- 
gregation with  the  volume  of  sound  from  his  instrument.  He 
skillfully  leads  the  congregational  singing  and  helps  interpret  the 
spirit  of  the  song.  He  is  eager  to  grasp  the  soloist's  interpretation 
and  support  the  voice  and  make  his  part  an  accompanimeiit  and  not 
another  solo.  There  is  always  a  devotional  and  worshipful  character 
to  his  pielude  and  offertory,  and  on  communion  Sunday  his  music 
is  touched  with  the  sweet  sorrow  of  the  Last  Supper  and  Geth- 
semane  and  Calvary.  Seldom  does  anyone  think  to  thaidc  him,  so 
unobtrusive  is  his  work,  but  he  tones  up  the  entire  service. 

P(ahaps  we  can  make  clearer  some  abuses  by  a  brief  enumera- 
tion. It  is  an  abuse  of  nnisic  in  worship  to  use  unfit  or  unpoetical 
words,  equally  so  to  employ  ])oor  tunes,  and  just  as  bad  to  join 
words  and  music  not  adapted  to  each  other.  It  is  also  an  abuse,  little 
short  of  criminal,  to  divorce  words  and  music  of  some  hymns  which 
have  become  a  pari  of  the  life  uf  the  church,  and  to  force  either  inh"> 
another  marriage.  Thcrf^  is  only  one  tunc  for  "Abide  with  me," 
"Lead,  Kindly  Light,"  ":Nearer,my  God,  to  Thee,"  "Just  as  I  am," 


]010]  Music  and  ITor-s/np  289 

or  "Jesus,  Lover  of  my  Soul."  O,  makers  of  hymn  books,  leave  some 
thiugs  alone!  It  is  an  abuse  to  surj-euder  to  the  rag-time  type.  The 
g]'eat  hyjnus  are,  needed  nowhere  more  than  in  our  Suuday  schools, 
where  it  should  be  impossible  for  a  scholar  to  spend  a  year  without 
becoming  acquainted  with  the  fifty  greatest  hymns.  But  it  is  an 
equal  abuse  to  attempt  to  limit  the  Sunday  school  to  the  staid  and 
stately  hymns.  Songs  for  young  people  must  have  soine  "go"  in 
them,  and  a  little  more  "go"  would  not  injure  the  church  hymnal. 
Adaptability  to  age  and  use  must  play  a  larger  part  in  our  choices. 
We  need  a  better  hymnology  for  child  life,  which  the  kindergarten 
is  now  partially  supplying.  The  gospel  song  lias  vindicated  itself 
by  results.  We  must  recognize  its  place,  though  seeking  to  prevent 
its  abuse  by  improving  its  cjuality  and  eliminating  that  which 
offends.  It  is  an  abuse  to  sing  for  the  purpose  of  changing  the  air 
or  taking  a  collection.  It  is  just  as  sensible  for  tlie  preacher  to 
announce  his  t(  xt  while  the  coins  are  rattling,  as  for  the  soloist  or 
choir,  or  even  the  congregatio]],  to  sing.  It  is  an  abuse  to  introduce 
organ  music  that  is  not  devotional.  Two  abuses,  which  seem  small, 
arc  common  to  many  organists.  We  refer  to  the  custom  of  striking 
the  note  with  which  the  melody  begins  at  the  opening  of  each  verse, 
just  before  the  people  begin  to  sing.  This  is  very  disagreeable, 
entirely  unnecessary,  undesirable  and  inexcusable.  Equally  bad 
is  the  practice  of  holding  tlie  bass  note  of  the  last  chord  long  after 
all  other  sounds  have  ceased.  It  is  much  better  to  stop  short  v\M'th 
the  end  of  the  measure,  or  to  hold  the  last  chord  softly  for  a  moment 
after  the  singing  has  ceased. 

To  all  who  have  part  in  the  music  of  worship  we  commend  the 
rule  of  the  sv\-eet-spirited  Sankey :  "I  never  touch  a  song  that  does 
not  speak  to  me  in  e\-ery  word  and  phrase.  Before  I  sing  I  must 
fed,  and  the  hymn  must  be  of  such  a  kind  that  I  know  I  can  send 
home  what  I  feel." 


y^ 


XVL>fc^^i 


290  Methodist  Ilevicw  [March 

EDITORIAL   DEPARTMENTS 

NOTES   AND   DISCUSSIONS 


EICHAED  WATSOX  CULDER  OX  IDEALS  OF  LTFEi 

THE    SUBJECT    DEEINEU 

The  idea  of  prcadiing  ideals  to  idealists  like  these  girls!  I  hear 
some  of  yoii — think.  Why,  they  arc  running  over  with  ideals;  they 
Are  idealists  all;  even  more,  they  are  to  one  another,  and  to  many 
others,  themselves  embodied  ideals,  and  tliis  ho\ir  is  the  very  crest  and 
culmination  of  all  their  exquisite  idealism.  It  is  like  laying  a  duty 
upon  birds  and  poets  to  sing,  brooks  to  babble,  dreamers  to  dream. 

True  enough — gloriously  true !  But  my  hope  is  to  say  a  clinging 
word  that  may  be  of  service  in  that  possible  future,  when  these  bright 
ideals  may,  some  of  them,  get  to  be  dim,  ineffective,  and  dispensable— 
a  bit  house-v.'orn,  perliaps;  and  furthermore,  to  insist  upon  certain 
Bpecific  ideals  of  special  necessity  among  our  people  and  in  our  time. 

The  dictionaries  do  not  ahvays  furnish  us  with  just  what  we  want 
when  Ave  go  to  them  for  definition,  but  I  have  been  fortunate  in  finding 
the  desired  shades  of  meaning  for  my  title  word,  namely,  Ideal,  "an 
imaginary  object  or  individual  in  which  an  idea  is  conceived  to  be  com- 
pletely realized,  hence  a  standard  or  model  of  perfection,  as  the  ideal 
of  beauty,  virtue,  etc." ;  again,  "a  standard  of  desire,  an  ultimate  ol)ject 
or  aim,  a  menial  eoncqition  of  what  is  most  desirable."  I  am  not 
to  speak  of  ideals  of  art  or  beauty — not  of  aesthetic  ideals  or  educational 
ideals,  but  of  ideals  of  life. 

Ideals  of  life  may  be  separated  into  several  kinds — one  imijlying 
conscious  or  unconscious  emulation  of  some  one  individual  or  career, 
or  of  a  group  of  individuals,  historical  or  contemporaneous.  This  may 
even  descend  to  imitation  of  appearance — dress,  cut  of  hair,  tricks 
of  manner.  Apj)roaching  tliis  sort  of  ideal  is  the  image  of  one's  self 
projected  imaginatively  before  the  mind's  eye  and  imaginatively  exist- 
ing in  certain  desired  conditions  or  with  certain  traits  and  powers. 
In  the  first  case  one  fh\tlers  another  by  imitation;  in  the  second  case* 
one  tries  to  live  up  to  a  conee]-)tion  of  a  more  interesting,  more  suc- 
ce.-=sful,  more  useful,  more  admirable,  in  fact,  a  better  self.     Again, 

'  A  Coiiimt  iicement  A<M'r:  3  dclivcicd  .it  Wcllcslcy  Colle;TO  by  1{.  W.  Gilik-r.  wlioso  intrn- 
tioi)  wiLS  to  hoiwl  it,  uftor  delivery,  uh  u  free  cift  to  tlie  .Meihouist  Kf.view.  Cirrumstanccs 
luiviriR  pnn-piito'l  tlio  carryint;  out  of  Um  desire  iit  tlie  lime,  we  now  fuUill  iiis  wiali  by  putting 
it  upon  our  puKCS  aa  n  i;raieful  iiienjorial  of  bia  friendship  for  this  Keview. 


1010]  Notes  imd  Discussions  291 

vc  (Iicrisli  ideals  of  moral  qualities,  ideals  of  duty,  industry,  good 
iiiiinuers,  good  behavior,  pluck,  and  Avhat  not,  gathered  from  various 
hourcc?. 

Life's  ideals,  you  see,  may  be  real  or  i)naginary  persons,  or  groups 
of  persons,  that  is,  composites;  or  they  may  be  attributes,  detached 
\irtues  or  accomplishments.  These  various  ideals  interblend,  but 
iilwnvs  they  Rcrvc  as  standards,  low  or  high,  according  to  our  intel- 
l.A  tual  and  moral  culture  or  native  virtue. 

NO  ESCAPE  EROil  IDEALS 

Those  are,  of  course,  mistaken  who  take  it  that  the  ideal  has  only 
to  do  with  the  purely  impracticable,  to  be  something  entirely  outside 
of  life.  The  misconception  comes  from  adhering  to  a  definition  of  the 
\i,drd  v.hieli  is  legitimate  enough,  and  refers  to  something  which  exists 
(.nly  in  idea,  something,  perhaps,  which  is  fanciful,  unattainable.  They 
give  a  moral  significance  to  the  term,  and  they  take  a  dubious  and 
cyniral  attitude.  But  we  are  using  tlie  term  more  broadly,  and,  in 
l!io  broad  sense,  it  is  clearly  demonstrable  that  the  everyday  life  of 
cvi-ry  man,  woman,  and  child  is  dominated  by  his  or  her  ideals.  It 
mr.st  be  a  less  than  human  stupidity  in  the  person,  or  an  absolute 
deadening  by  routine,  that  utterly  eliminates  the  influence  of  standards 
of  ideals  from  any  life.  Take  the  dullest  individuals  known  to  you, 
leading  the  most  monotonous  jMssible  existences,  and  see  whether 
tiieir  treadmill  days  are  utterly  lacking  in  influences  from  fixed  ideals. 
One  way  in  which  you  may  test  this  is  to  run  counter  to  the  con- 
V.  !ili.,n  of  the  locality,  or  the  social  or  religious  group,  and  then  find 
o\it  wliat  a  figure  3'ou  cut  in  the  eyes  of  the  narrowest  and  heaviest 
i^pirits  in  the  whole  community.  You  arc  likely  to  discover  that  these 
h.ivf  very  definite  aims  and  ideals;  their  ideals  may  be  small,  even 
Mutual,  base;  tlicy  may  be  what  you  call  superstitious,  yet  some  of 
tht.-e  ideals  may  be,  also,  in  their  way  admirable. 

The  Jiussian  peasants  seem  a  stolid  lot;  think  of  the  tragedy  of 
l);e  late  coronation,  where  in  a  panic-stricken  crowd  they  perished 
like  ]><ior,  stupid  slieep.  But  some,  at  least,  of  their  ideals  are  of  a 
kind  iiiat  poets  praise.  I  thought  so  when  I  saw,  at  Jerusalem,  the 
l.'u-.-i.in  i)ilgrims  awaiting  for  days  and  days  the  fraudulent  miracle 
•  ^  lii'"  holy  iire  at  the  so-called  Tomb-of^Christ.  It  was  a  pitiful  sight 
'  bfn  one  remembered  the  long,  hard  journey — and  the  strenuous  dc- 
»■.:-•  to  lay  hold  of  a  less  burdensome  life  in  another  state  of  existence; 
but  it  was  a  spectacle  not  without  color  of  ideality,  in  the  uplifting 


292  Mc{hodist  Review  [March 

The  prophet,  tlic  sensualist,  the  miser,  the  benefactor,  the  re- 
formei',  anil  the  poor  fellow  with  a  brain  incapable  of  carrying  a  great 
tliought  without  an  errant  gait,  whom  we  call  crank  or  fanatic — all 
these  have  their  ideals,  and  are  striving,  indolently  or  forthrightly, 
to  attain  them.  It  is  the  ideal  of  many  youtlis  to  be  prize  fighters, 
pickpoclcets,  or  all  'round  crooks.  Xot  long  ago,  at  Ilanipton,  I  beard 
a  colored  man  tell  with  pleasing  frankness  of  the  change  tliat  had  come 
in  bis  OAvn  ideals  of  life.  His  essay  was  named  "A  Changed  Ideal." 
His  young  ambition  had  been  to  attaiii  to  be  an  "extra  good  middle- 
weight prize  fighter,"  that  his  name  might  "go  whirling  around  the 
world  in  the  newspapers."  Ilis  second,  and  present,  ambition  was  to 
be  a  well-trained  farmer.  Ilis  life  and  his  ideals  changed  together, 
as  do  yours  and  mine.  Tlie  thief  has  his  ideal  of  honor — even  if  this 
is  modified  by  his  profession,  still  he  strives  to  live  up  to  his  ideal, 
and  judges  his  fellows  accordingly.  The  statesman  who  partitions  or 
steals -^vbole  countries  has,  too,  liis  ideals  of  modified  honor,  as  shown 
by  Talleyrand's  self-reported  reproof  of  Xapoleon  for  cheating  in  the 
game,  in  reference  to  the  scandalous  manner  of  his  dealing  with  un- 
fortuiuite  Spain.  If,  then,  we  all  have  ideals,  and  these  are  forever 
influencing  us,  it  is  a  gravely  practical  matter,  this  question  we  are 
discussing  to-day. 

M'lIAT    IDEALS    SHOULD   BE 

One  very  desiral)le  Uiing  about  ideals  is  that  the}'  should  bo 
precise.  lie  is  fortunate;  wlio  early  in  life  attains  a  definite  ideal  as  to 
his  future.  It  is  a  j^nvrorful  element  of  success.  If  you  read  the  con- 
fessions of  successful  men  and  women,  you  will,  not  always  but  very 
often,  find  that  their  cfTorts  were  ins])ired  by  a  definite  image  of  what 
they  wished  to  become.  Tliis  one  aim  they  struggled  towai-d  all  tlieir 
years,  iu  due  course  of  time  accomplishing  the  great  result.  lie  or 
she  was  determined  to  be  like  this  or  that  artist,  writer,  statesman, 
soldier,  pliilanthroi)ist — and  approached,  equaled,  or  surpassed  the 
inspiring  original. 

But  definifone?s  of  this  kind  is  not  the  most  important  thing  in 
relation  to  tlie  idt-als  lliat  are  to  influence  our  careers,  l)e  these  careers 
public  or  private.  'J'he  most  det^'rmined  nature  is  often  deflected  from 
its  aims,  but  if  it  is  governed  by  ideals  of  industry,  of  honor,  of  courage, 
of  high  attainment  in  whatever  is  undertaken,  the  man  v\-ill  find  lii? 
place  at  wliatever  altitude  circumstances  make  possible;  and  the  world 
will  be  better  for  his  having  stepped  into  it  for  a  while  and  done  bis 
part  bravely. 


1910]  Notes  and  Discussions  293 

"■R-IIEX  IIALF-GODS  GO,  THE  GODS  ARRIVE" 

Many  a  man  and  wojnan  Pinilcs  in  after  years  at  the  ?mall  pro- 
portions and  narrow  bo\mds  of  first  ideals  as  to  tilings  to  be  ac-com- 
}>]islied  in  a  career,  but  he  or  she  is  none  the  less  glad  that  these 
ambitions  were  enthusiastically  cherished. 

AYlicn  half-gods  go, 
The  gods  arrive. 

Sometimes,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  faithful  ideal  not  only 
oxalled,  but  so  enormous,  so  magnificent,  so  tainted  with  sentimen- 
tality and  unreality,  that  it  is  absolutely  unattainable.  Xcvertheloss, 
it  has  lifted  hours  that  might  have  been  sordid  and  depressed  into  the 
glow  of  imagination  and  hope;  it  has  been  the  inspiration  of  monot- 
onous labor;  it  has  led,  in  due  course,  to  the  creation  and  realization  of 
andntions  right  and  attainable. 

IDEALS   THAT   ARE   THRUST   UPON   US 

Tlic-rc  are  certain  ideals  which  come  to  us  as  an  effect  of  that 
mysterious  clement  which  we  call  public  opinion,  and  there  are  others 
that  are  ours  through  accident  or  training.  The  tone  that  we  take 
from  our  surroundings  is  very  subtle  in  its  formation  and  very  hard 
for  any  of  us  to  escape.  Most  people  *'go  with  the  crowd."  It  is  a 
tremendously  important  part  of  all  culture,  then,  and  all  education  to 
})ut  up  a  dam  against  t'he  inundation  of  contiguous  opinion.  jSTothing 
is  iiarder  to  avoid  than  sucli  overllow,  and  very  few  do  avoid  it.  In 
other  words,  one  great  object  of  education  is  to  bring  to  the  intelligence 
a  variety  of  information  and  of  opinion  from  various  worth-while 
quarters  and  points  of  view,  so  that  there  vn\l  be  in  the  mind  of  the 
educated  person  a  supply  of  materials  that  Avill  serve  in  constructing 
th.e  necessary  barriers  against  a  rush  of  popular  emotion,  or  against 
some  craze  of  the  circumjacent  crowd. 

FORMING    OXE's    own    IDEALS 

Students  in  schools  and  colleges  are  taught  to  think  for  them- 
pclvcs;  to  form  their  own  ideals.  More  than  tliis,  there  is  an  attempt 
in  every  institution  of  learning,  from  the  kindergarten  up,  to  send 
sludonts  into  tlie  world  with  a  stock  of  ideals  so  admirable  and  com- 
pelling that  they  will  keep  them  on  the  straight  path  as  long  as  they 
live.  TJiero  is  nothing  more  valuable  to  the  life  of  the  community 
than  the  reaction  ujwn  popidar  sentiment  of  minds  that,  through 
education,  have  attained  a  certain  amount  of  independence  and  power 
of  resistance,  and  which  arc  thus  capable  of  influencing,  and  even  at 


294  Mclhodist  Ilcvicia  [:March 

timos  of  fonning,  tliat  public  opinion  upon  v.-hich  all  government  and 
all  society  are  based. 

To  sum  np  what  lia?  gone  licfore:  It  is  not  so  important  t.hat  the 
ideals  of  oar  lives  should  be  minutely  exact,  as  that  they  sliould  be  of 
a  kind  that  may  apply  to  all  circumstauces.  It  is  more  to  the  point 
that  Ave  should  measure  ourselves  morally  with  some  fine  character 
wliich  vrc  enthusiastically  admire,  than  tliat  avo  should  sav,  "1  will 
be  a  teacher  like  this  one  or  that,  a  preacher,  a  poet,  a  publicist. 
orator,"  or  what  not.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  definite  ideals;  it  is 
a  better  thing  that  one's  ideals  should  be  of  a  nature  that  makes  them 
serviceable  in  all  the  developments  and  emergencies  of  life,  and  it  is 
the  most  vitally  important  thing  of  all  that  our  ideals  should  he 
altogether  nol:)iC. 

AVESLEY    AXD   EAIElcSOX 

It  would  be  intcrosliiig  to  speak  of  the  two  very  notable  idealists 
who  were  born,  one  of  Ihcm  just  tv>'o  centuries,  the  other  one  century, 
ago  this  simimer.  AVcslcy's  was  a  life  for  pure  stremiousness,  match- 
ing, if  not  surpassing,  any  miodcrn  instance  whatever,  no  matter  how 
distinguished  or  picturesque,  whether  of  Europe  or  America;  a  beauti- 
ful and  ever-memorable  life,  whose  enormous  altruistic  energy  was 
inspired  and  guided  by  an  ideal  no  less  high  than  the  image  of  the 
one  Su.preme  Altruistliimself ;  of  him  who,  doing  good,  went  up  and 
down  the  ways  of  Palesiiiu',  as  did  his  devoted  disciple  the  roads  and 
benighled  byAvays  of  Grcut  l^ritaiu.  As  for  Emerson,  it  is  something 
for  you  and  me  to  know  that  {his  unique  genius  added  new  glory  to 
the  tongue  we  s])cak;  that  tliis  great  citizen  loved  and  believed  in  our 
America;  tliat  tijis  sujn-rb  character,  this  world-prophet,  made  sacred 
the  very  time,  the  very  country,  in  which  we  live:  that  we  to  greatness 
are  not  altogether  alien,  for  close  to  our  ears  has  sounded  a  voice  from 
the  eternal. 

I  have  been  tliinking  much  lately  of  two  women  who  not  long 
since  passed  beyond  tiie  veil.  One  died  in  the  fullness  of  years,  the 
other  in  midcarecr.  One  wa^  a  life  almost  entirely  private;  the  other 
was  one  largely  ])tiblic.  The  lives  of  both  were  inspired  and  glorified 
from  beginning  to  end  by  the  noldcst  of  ideals.  I  wish  I  could  lu'ing 
these  two  lives  vividly  l^efore  you,  nnike  you  realize  their  golden 
ideality,  and  then  say:  '-'I'liis  is  what  J  mean!  Here  is  what  1  wish 
for  each  of  you!  Go  out  into  life  furnished  like  them — not  necessarily 
witli  definite  ambitions,  though  that  is  well,  but  with  sometliing  in 
your  souls  Hint  will  be  the  splendid  and  nnforgotten  standard  of  every 


1010]  Notes  and  Discussioris  295 

action  and  desire !    Take  hold  of  daily  life  in  the  same  ujirelinqiiished 
spirit  of  purity,  of  service,  of  serene  faith  in  divinest  things!" 

SAKAII    )!LAKE    SHAAV 

TIcr?clf  nnpublic  and  unobtrnsive,  one  of  these  women  ■was,  in 
her  family  relation?,  tlie  center  of  a  group  of  remarkable  men  and 
vomen.  Xot  even  her  husband,  while  known  as  a  })liilanthropist,  was 
of  the  class  of  men  prominently  "public."  With  all  his  reserve  he  was 
a  man  of  such  sterling  character,  and  one  having  so  deeply  at  heart 
all  matters  of  good  citizenship,  that  he  was  classed  witii  those  of  our 
merchants  who  could  always  be  counted  upon  in  tlie  cause  of  civic 
righteousness;  his  means  and  his  counsel  ever,  in  ■war  and  peace,  at 
the  disposal  of  those  who  were  in  the  thick  of  public  endeavor;  more 
than  tliis,  his  personal  taste  and  cultivation  were  actively  exercised 
in  fui'thering  woi'thy  movements  in  tlie  pioneer  da}s  of  reform  in  the 
la«t  century.  AVell  mntchcd,  indeed,  tiiis  fortunate  couple,  in  moral 
and  iiitellc'-tual  attrii)utes  and  enthusiasms. 

The  names  of  those  near  to  them  by  birth  or  marriage  are  a  roll- 
t-ail  of  honor — Lowell,  the  patriot-poet;  Curtis,  the  civic  knight  Avith- 
out  fear  or  reproach;  Barlow  and  young  Lowell,  the  intrepid  soldiers; 
]\Iinturn,  the  good  citizen;  that  daughter,  whose  lifetime  of  devotion 
to  tho  poor  has  enshrined  her  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  a  mighty 
city;  that  son,  wl:iose  great  monument  on  Beacon  Hill  was  not  needed 
to  keep  in  remembrnnce  one  of  the  truest  heroes  that  ever  went 
Solemnly  to  a  sacrificial  death.  Otliers,  too,  I  could  name  in  tlie  im- 
mediate circle  who,,even  to  the  third  generation,  Avere  and  are  among 
our  men  and  women  of  force,  of  gocd-will  and  A\ise  philanthro]iy. 

Willi  her  the  virtues  of  citizcn=liip  v.ere  not  an  acquiescence,  Imt 
a  passion.  Cracionsly  lielpiul  to  individual  distress;  giving  out  afTec- 
tion  and  liopo  t'.'nd«i]y  and  freely  from  her  ovm  generous  stores;  her 
Fyin))atlucs  covered  countries  and  races.  There  was  no  endeavor  of 
patriotism  that  she  did  not  befriend.  She  inspired  the  inspircr.s.  In 
the  sacred  privacy  of  her  hearth  and  home  men  and  women  breathed 
the  very  air  of  heroism.  To  her  the  republic  was  like  a  mother  beloved, 
wlio>e  ])\ire  fame  must  not  be  breathed  upon — wliose  error,  if  error 
Iherc  was,  could  only  bo  a  passing  aberration;  who  mast  be  generous, 
righteous,  noble.  L(>1  it  not  be  forgotten  of  her  that  she  love<\  music — 
and  JH'li'ed  to  bring  its  rest  and  benediction  to  the  masses  of  the  peo])le  ; 
foi'  sbe  could  enjoy  selfishly  no  good  tiling  in  life.  To  her  life  was 
indeed  ideal. 


29G  Meihodisi  Review  [March 

ALICK  rit]:j;,M:AN'  palimeh 
Of  the  otlier  woman  ecarccly  do  I  dare  speak  in  these  halls,  where 
her  memory  and  tradition  are  like  a  living  presence.  Here  was  a  life 
in  industry  and  energy  marvelous  and  undaunted,  dedicated  to  large 
and  ever  larger  uses,  and  inspired  from  first  to  last  by  the  loftiest 
ideality.  Deeply  she  felt  the  impulse  and  clearly  she  saw  the  object 
of  her  labor — in  her  self,  surrender  and  service;  for  others,  the  lifting 
of  the  mind  and  soul  through  tlie  truest  methods  of  education  to  the 
highest  possible  levels.  Few  can  hope  to  match  her  exceptional  ac- 
complishment; but  her  spirit — her  spirit  is  here  to-day,  an  ennobling 
and  beckoning  ideal  in  the  hearts  of  teachers  and  students  and  all  who 
cherish  the  beautiful  memory  of  Alice  Freeman  Palmer.  Judgment, 
tact,  opportunity  were  hers,  knowledge  and  experience,  S3'mpatby  and 
affection,  but  above  all  was  tlie  inspiration  of  the  unseen.  Alwavs  she 
seemed  to  hear  in  the  air  above  her,  and  ever  foUov/,  with  bright  and 
perfect  confidence,  the  rustling  wings  of  the  angel  of  the  ideal. 

IDEAL   or    THE    HO.ME 

To  leave  on  one  side  the  attractive  c-ontemplatiou  of  ideality  as 
illustrated  in  personality,  let  us  now  consider  certain  of  the  ideals 
which  need  to  be  upheld  very  especially  in  our  own  day  and  among 
our  own  people.  Xaturally,  speaking  to  women,  tlie  thought  upper- 
most is  that  of  "home" — yes,  the  ''institution"  of  marriage,  the  "insti- 
tution" of  home.  It  used  to  be  that  nothing  more  hopelessly,  forlornly 
trite  could  be  put  forward  on  an  occasion  like  this.  The  singular 
thing  about  it  is  that  there  has  of  late  come  into  practical  effect  a 
notion  on  this  subject  which  makes  the  very  theme  such  an  immediate 
and  burning  question  that,  I  give  you  my  word,  in  the  town  Miiere  I 
live  no  one  dare  mention  it,  radically,  if  there  is  a  single  person 
present  the  details  of  whose  social  antecedents  arc  not  known !  And, 
in  fact,  I  am  somewhat  sensitive  about  bringing  it  here  and  now  to 
your  attention,  for  one  never  knows  when — against  the  social  amen- 
ities— blood  may  be  drawn  by  a  stroke  in  the  dark.  In  a  play  by 
Brandcr  ]\latthews,  one  of  the  characters  says  that  divorce  will  never 
be  as  popular  among  women  as  marriage  until  it  includes  music  and 
flowers.  (There,  I  did  not  mean  to  mention  the  hateful  word  I)  But 
1  remember  that  the  play  is  already  an  old  one.  Helen  Hunt  used  to 
say  that  she  considered  some  things  settled — and  that  marriage  and 
the  home  were  among  tliese  things;  but  that  ]>oet  and  idealist  went 
from  among  us  these  many  sad  years  ago.    I  cannot  bring  myself  to 


1010]  Aoics  and  JJiscus.siojhs  297 

iiiiillijilving  ^vords  on  a  theme  like  lliis,  in  a  presence  such  as  this, 
liut  can  anyone  say  that  there  is  not  a  practical  side  to  ideality,  when 
the  lack  of  a  high  ideal  has  broken  up  so  many  homes,  has  made  so 
many  orphans,  has  dragged  down  in  so  many  minds  and  in  so  many 
lives  that  state  which  should  be  the  noblest  in  the  existence  of  human- 
ity ;  tliat  should  have  allied  to  it  such  a  sense  and  standard  of  mutual 
forbearance,  of  mutual  service,  of  self-control,  of  dignity,  of  conse- 
cration. IDEAL  OF  THE   STATE 

Another  theme  that  has  long  seemed  irreclaimal)ly  trite  is  that 
of  the  virtuous  commonwealth — the  ideal  of  philosopliers  in  all  ages. 
.We,  in  America,  once  well-nigh  assumed  tliat  the  centuries  had  reserved 
for  us  and  for  our  children  tliis  immemorial  aim  and  desire  of  the  good 
and  wise.  To-day  we  scarcely  dare  to  open  the  morning  paper  for 
dread  of  the  revelations  tliat  may  stare  us  in  the  face  of  nev.-  and  even 
more  hideous  civic  corruption.  In  one  city  government  after  another, 
and  in  State  after  State,  even  up  to  the  administration  of  the  general 
government,  scandal  follows  scandal,  till  one  is  in  danger  of  growing 
morbid  and  disheartened  at  the  blackmail,  bribery,  and  partnership 
with  crime — so  often  do  our  city  governments  exhibit,  not  honest  men 
united  in  public  service,  but  dishonest  men  united  in  public  plunder; 
so  often  do  political  candidates  emerge  into  the  senatorial  chamber  of 
the  world's  chief  republic,  bearing  not  the  laurels  of  honorable  victory, 
but  the  odor  of  notorious  crime;  crime  of  the  very  kind  that  demoral- 
izes citizenship,  and,  if  unchecked,  would  destroy  the  nation  itself! 
We  must  not  forget  that  these  ver}'  revelations  are  signs  and  incidents 
of  the  fight  against  corruption;  and  one  must  never  despair  of  tlie 
rei)ul>lic.  Neither  must'one  evade  the  truth,  lest  the  evil  increase.  The 
evil  is  not  merely  political  and  governmental;  it  goes  deeper — often 
into  methods  of  business  and  finance,  sometimes  into  the  relations 
between  capital  and  labor,  frequently  into  the  relations  between  men 
of  affairs  and  the -professional  political  manipulators.  There  is  a 
pitiful,  an  unpatriotic  lack  of  scruple  on  the  part  of  men  who,  wliile 
protecting  property  from  the  attacks  of  demagogues  and  adventurers 
in  oflice,  might  be  thought  able  themselves  to  resist  the  temptation  of 
cornipt  practices. 

PEUSONAL   APPLTCATION* 

As  few,  if  any,  of  you  expect  to  have  the  opportunity  of  voting 
at  elections,  you  may  think  that  much  of  tliis  is  rather  remote  from 
your  probaltle  activities.  You  will  find  that  it  is  not.  "Wlien  you  go 
out  from  this  college  into  the  community  you  will  discover  that  women 


29S  Method isf  Review  [March 

wlio  neither  vote  nor  wisji  to  vote  are  directly  assisting  very  eft'ectivGiV 
in  political  reforms  of  a  local  or  national  character  throughout  the 
country.  Es])ccially  arc  they  promoting  to-day  the  pressing  cause  of 
civil  service  reform,  and  I  do  truly  hope  you  ma}'  each  be  able  to  lend 
a  helping  hand.  Yet  it  is  not  necessary  to  \irge  you  into  any  path 
other  than  that  which  you  anticipate.  You  Avill  be  doing  a  good  work 
for  the  state  and  for  society  if  you  follow  your  professional,  or  your 
private,  household  lives — in  the  spirit  that  has  been  a  part  of  the 
direct  and  indirect  teaching  of  this  institution  of  learning,  to  each  of 
you  so  dear.  You  will  be  hel]>ing  the  honest  citizenship  of  America  if, 
even  without  specific  work  for  ])ublic  politieal  reform,  you  simply 
maintain  and  exalt,  and  arc  lun-er,  never  ashamed  of  your  youtliful 
ideals  of  honor,  of  honesty,  and  of  moral  courage. 

Soon  onougli  the  que-ti')}i  of  politiml  or  jinancial  scruple  will  be 
brought  home  to  each  of  yuu — most  likely  through  the  best  that  is  in 
you,  through  your  friendly  interest  and  natural  affections.  It  may 
even  be  revealed  to  you  tliat  your  own  tacit  demands  are  working  havoc 
in  the  conscience  of  some  o]io  iieai-  to  you,  making  it  hard  for  him  to 
refuse  a  usual  acquiescence  in  some  sort  of  rascality,  in  order  th.at  your 
comfort  or  your  luxury  inay  not  be  endangered. 

Yuu  will  not  only  l)e  an  influence  for  good  or  evil  in  the  contacts 
of  family  and  society  but  you,  with  your  culture,  will  have  peculiar 
power  in  the  formation  of  that  public  opinion  which  regulates  govern- 
ment and  life.  What  shall  l)e  yo\ir  part  in  giving  tone  to  your  own 
hojue  and  to  your  ov\-n  comnmnity?  "\^'ill  this  not  depend  upon 
whether  or  not  your  own  belter  ideals  are  kept  bright  and  evident? 

AVJIAT    MFAN-    Tin:    i;i(;   AXD   TILE    PlCTlTRi:? 

The  envy  of  wealth  and  worldly  success — what  is  more  degrading? 
But  who  can  keep,  in  entering  a  well-to-do  household,  from  the  uu- 
uttered  query,  What  has  been  the  price  of  this  abundance?  Has  any- 
thing other  tlian  intense  indu.'.try  and  application,  unusual  ability 
and  opjiortunity,  been  paid  for  these  possessions?  Has  honor  been 
surrendered?  Has  tacit  Cumjdiancc  with  business  or  political  crook- 
edness been  the  price?  Is  tiie  jjossessioji  of  these  goods  guaranteed 
by  a  life  which,  in  days  of  heroic  moral  conflict,  basely  abstains  from 
all  oflort  toward  better  things?  ]s  this  gorgeous  rug  a  sign  that  the 
head  of  the  house  lias  got  rich  by  bribing  legislators?  Is  that  costly 
painting  not  merely  a  proof  of  a'sthetic  taste,  but  of  moral  callous- 
ness, in  keeping  silent  while  u  j)artner  or  associate  trustee  made  n 


1910]  Notes  and  Discussions  299 

corruj't  .loal  ?  In  a  ^vorcl,  i!=^  tliis  fortune  built  upon  hard  work,  inge- 
nuity, and  higli  principle,  or  \i)ion  uuserupulou?  greed?  Is  its 
j)0ssei?50r  assuaging  his  conscience  liy  philanthropical  subscriptions, 
wliilc  knowing  himself  to  be  a  coward  and  deserter — a  miserable 
''quitter'' — in  the  battle  that  men  and  women  of  honor  and  patriotism 
jind  moral  bravery  are  wagiiig  all  over  this  country  in  the  cause  of 
decency  and  good  government? 

Imagine  yourself  the  woman  of  that  house.  How  will  you  meet 
Your  resi>onsibility ?  "What  will  be  your  moral  attitude?  I  wish  I 
coiild  jnake  you  feel  how  grave  the  situation  is  in  our  land  to-day. 
Truly  there  is  an  emergency;  there  must  be  a  revival  of  civic  right- 
eousness— a  definite  movement — and,  directly  or  indirectly,  every 
one  of  you  can  be  of  verj'  real  assi-tance. 

'J'here  will  be  ideals  in  that  house  of  yours.  "Will  the  nobler  ideals 
be  wrapped  n]i  and  laid  awa}-,  with  a  little  pang  of  regret,  or  smile 
of  suj)criori!y.  and  the  dim  rcmembi-ance  of  a  prosy  graduation  address 
iiow  many  years  ago?  Or  will  tliey  be  living,  present  and  radiant, 
and  full  of  the  good  old-fashioned  ••power  of  salvation*'? 

A    TEXT    FKO^r    ST.    GAUDLXS 

I  spoke  of  th.c  monument  to  Colonel  Shaw  in  Boston.  I  was 
slaying  across  the  lake  vender  at  the  time  of  its  unveiling,  and  went 
u]>  from  here  to  see  ^he  ceremony.  It  was  a  significant,  a  touching 
oicasio-n.  rarticularly  interesting  it  all  was  to  me,  for  I  had  seen 
tlic  work  grow  year  l)y'vyear  under  the  hand  of  the  patient  master — our 
great  senlptr)r,  St.  Gaudens— sti-iAing  in  his  conscientious  way  to 
realize  bis  own  high  ideal.  "Wliat  a  thrilling  monuinent  it  is!  Wlwi 
!-t'ulpiure  siuh  us  this,  and  tlie  glorious  Sherman  just  unveiled  in 
Xe-.v  York,  ai-e  erected  in  iml^lic  i)Iaces,  our  cities  are  beginning  to 
pos.-e.-is  something  of  the  artistic  interest  of  the  old  Italian  towns. 
You  know  the  ''Shaw"  well.  In  these  my  closing  words,  let  me  recall 
lis  features  to  your  memories,  and  let  me  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  you  to 
a.-sociale  (liis  moiiunient  with  the  thought  I  have  tried  to  impress 
upon  y(;u  to-day.  llemeniber  the  swing  of  the  sable  soldiery,  with  the 
cliivrful  fjtces  of  tiieir  race  kindled  into  new  determination;  remember 
t'f  slauting,  d<'corative  lines  of  t!ie  guns;  remember  the  sensitive, 
<  X'i'r.site,  resolute,  devoted  countenance  of  the  young  liero  riding  to 
his  douiiK  rem-'inbir  the  action,  tlie  tremendous  urge;  and  over  all, 
i.'Aeting  ill  the  air,  the  wonmn's  form — the  Ideal,  eternally  leading, 
eternally  uplifiing,  eternally  inspiring. 


300  Methodist  Review  [March 


THE  ARENA 


BISHOPS  IN  THE   GENERAL  CONFERENCE 

A  CARKFiTixT  Studied  and  interesting  article  was  that  by  Dr.  R.  T. 
Miller  in  the  January-February  number  of  the  Review.  Almost  was  I 
convinced  that  the  bishops  are  members  of  the  General  Conference.  But 
the  article  was  a  little  loose  in  its  discrimination  at  tvro  points  and  one 
of  these  afiectod  its  main  contention.  If  I  riglitly  apprehended  Dr.  I\Iiller's 
argument,  it  was  to  this  effect:  The  bishops  were  originally  members  of 
the  General  Conference  by  virtue  of  their  ministerial  standing.  This  with 
all  its  rights  they  retained  and  carried  over  into  the  episcopal  oflice.  These 
rights  were  not  taken  away  by  the  legislation  which  made  the  General 
Conference  a  representative  body;  the  bishops  still  held  all  their  rights 
as  ministers.  Further,  all  their  rights  and  powers  as  bishops  were  re- 
tained to  them  by  the  restrictive  rule  which  inhibits  the  General  Confer- 
ence from  any  act  which  would  "do  away  episcopacy  or  destroy  the  plan 
of  our  itinerant  general  superintendency."  Therefore  the  bishops  are 
still  possessed  of  all  the  powers  originally  held  by  them  and  are  still  mem- 
bers of  the  General  Conference. 

The  flaw  in  this  argument  is  that  it  fails  to  discriminate  between  the 
special  rights  of  the  bishops  by  virtue  of  their  office  as  bishops,  and  the 
rights  which  they  possessed  in  common  with  other  ministers  by  virtue 
of  their  membership  in  the  body  of  the  ministry.  Prior  to  1812  they  were 
members  of  the  General  "Conference,  not  because  they  were  bishops,  but 
because  they  were  duly  qualified  ministers.  Since  this  right  did  not  come 
to  them  as  bishops,  but  was  theirs  before  their  elevation  to  the  episcopacy, 
and  would  have  remained  theirs  had  they  resigned  the  epis.'^opal  olTice,  it 
formed  no  part  of  episcopacy,  as  such,  or  of  the  plan  of  the  itinerant  gen- 
eral superintendency  and  was  not  witlun  the  scope  of  the  third  restrictive 
rule. 

If  the  bishops  still  retain  their  right  to  membership  in  the  General 
Conference,  they  hold  that  right  as  ministers  and  not  as  bishops.  They 
hold  it  In  common  with  their  brethren  in  the  ministry  and  under  the 
same  conditions  and  limitations.  These  limitations  are  those  which  have 
been  imposed  and  accepted  by  the  whole  ministerial  body,  of  which  body 
the  bishops  are  members,  and  by  whose  acts  they  are  bound.  These  limi- 
tations include  primarily  all  tliose  imposed  by  the  General  Conference  of 
ISOS,  and  equally  all  that  have  since  been  adopted  in  the  manner  legally 
prescribed.  Under  these  limitations  no  minister  may  be  a  member  of  the 
General  Conference  until  he  has  been  legally  elected  thereto,  and  is  legally 
eligible  to  a  seat.  As  the  law  now  stands  bishops  are  not  eligible  to  seats 
in  the  General  Confercjice,  because  they  are  not  members  of  Annual  Con- 
ferences. The  Constitution  provides  in  Article  II.,  Section  2  that  minis- 
terial delegates  "shall  be  ciders,  at  least  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and 
shall  have  been  members  of  an  Annual  Conference  four  successive  years, 


1910]  The  Arena  301 

and  at  the  time  of  their  election  and  at  the  time  of  the  sossioa  of  the 
Gt-neral  Conference  shall  be  members  of  the  Annual  Conference  which 
elected  them." 

The  article  also  seems  to  imply  that  the  "full  power  to  make  rules  and 
rcsula.tions"  granted  the  General  Conference  is  a  limitation  of  the  powers 
of  that  body  in  addition  to  the  limitations  contained  in  the  Restvictivo 
Rules.  Whether  or  not  tliis  is  so  must  be  ascertained  by  an  investigation 
of  the  law  as  it  is.  It  would  ireem  to  be  a  self-evident  proposition  that  the 
church  has  within  itself,  in  its  own  Constitution  and  laws,  full  and  com- 
plete power  for  its  own  government.  All  the  powers  and  processes  by 
which  the  church  as  now  constituted  may  govern  itself  are  contained  in 
the  Discipline.  No  extra-disciplinary  process  can  be  allowed  to  have  any 
force  or  authority  whatsoever.  The  Discipline  knows  only  two  processes 
of  legislation — one  by  majority  vote  of  the  General  Conference;  the  other, 
the  so-called  constitutional  process,  requiring  a  concurrent  vote  of  two 
thirds  of  the  General  Conference,  two  thirds  of  the  Annual  Conferences 
present  and  voting,  and  two  thirds  of  the  Lay  Electoral  Conferences  i)res- 
ent  and  voting.  In  such  a  distribution  of  powers  it  is  evident  that  one 
class  must  be  specific  and  precise,  including  only  those  powers  which  are 
definitely  and  expressly  stated,  and  the  other  must  be  general,  including 
fill  powers  not  distinctly  and  specifically  reserved.  It  would  scarcely  be 
possible  to  assign  all  powers  in  express  and  definite  terms.  Such  a  process 
would  be  a  little  like  charting  the  universe.  We  never  could  be  quite 
sure  that  some  matters  had  not  been  omitted.  These  two  methods,  then — 
the  majority  vote  of  the  General  Conference  and  the  constitutional  pro- 
cess— include  all  the  legislative  power  and  authority  of  the  church.  The 
comstitutional  process  by  the  specific  terms  of  the  Constitution  itself  ap- 
plies only  to  the  matters  expressly  reserved  originally  to  the  church  as 
represented  in  the  ministry  and  now  to  the  church  as  represented  in  the 
Annual  and  Electoral  Conferences.  The  general  grant  of  power  must  of 
necessity  include  all  matters  not  expressly  reserved.  This  is  the  real 
scope  of  "full  power  to  make  rules  and  regulations."  What  kind  of  legis- 
lation that  must  be  which  neither  rules  nor  regtilates  anything  is  exceed- 
ingly ob.scure.  Jos.  W.  Van  Clkve. 
Champaign,  III. 


ANSWERS  TO  PRAYER  FOR  TEMPORAL  THINGS 
We  mot  late  in  life,  my  friend  and  I,  and  she  knew  that  her  own 
personal  experiences  had  much  interest  for  me.  Her  father  had  died 
llugcringly,  just  as  she  left  scliool.  Her  mother  dragged  out  a  living 
death  from  paralysis,  while  she  worked  to  keep  up  the  home,  give  her 
mother  all  that  she  needed  of  care,  and  educate  a  young  brother  and  sister. 
Their  home  wa.s  in  a  large  eastern  city.  Her  energy  and  business  capacity 
had  placed  her  as  owner  of  a  restaurant,  with  over  forty  waiters,  and  a 
laiKe  business  to  superintend.  After  a  long  engagement  the  man  of  her 
choifo  urged  her  to  sell  out  and  marry.  She  w;is  determined  to  begin 
married  life  with  a  long  honeymoon  for  change  and  rest,  so  as  to  restore 


302  j\Iclhodist  Kevicw  [March 

his  healtli.  The  business  must  be  sold,  and  she  must  have  cash  pn.yment 
in  order  to  accomplish  tliis.  She  made  it  a  subject  of  earnest  prayer. 
Her  ad.  appeared  in  the  principal  papiir,  and  she  asked  God  tliat  he  would 
send  the  right  person.  The  landlord,  whose  lease  she  had  held,  must 
approve  of  the  purchaser.  Three  answers  came  to  the  ad.  She  took  the 
first  (the  most  promising  to  her  eyes)  to  the  owner.  He  knew  the  writer, 
and  that  his  Avaiters  were  not  the  quiet,  orderly  set  that  hers  were.  So 
he  refused  him.  She  brought  the  next  best,  as  she  thought.  The  land- 
lord recognized  him  as  a  man  v/ho  would  bring  guests  of  uncertain  char- 
acter around  him.  He  turned  him  down.  Her  faith  never  wavered  that 
it  would  be  all  right  in  the  end.  The  third  man  answering  v/as  accepted 
at  once.  He  paid  her  the  cash  down,  which  enabled  them  to  start  on  their 
travels  west.  Her  husband's  health  was  reestablished,  and  he  went  into 
business  in  one  of  the  beautiful  "mushroom  cities"  of  the  Pacific  slope. 
However,  business  reasons  obliged  them  to  move  to  another  of  these 
new  citie;i.  The  pleasant  home  they  had  built  had  to  be  sold.  She  had 
prayed  the  "prayer  of  faith"  that  a  path  might  be  opened  to  them,  and 
now  she  asked,  as  before,  that  a  purchaser  who  would  pay  them  in  cash 
should  be  provided  them,  so  as  to  meet  without  debt  the  inevitable 
expenses  before  them.  The  real  estate  men  said  that  it  was  an  impos- 
sibility, that  she  could  never  get  it.  She  still  believed  that  she  could  and 
would  with  the  help  of  God.  So  she  wrote  out  an  ad.  asking  the  heavenly 
Father  to  prompt  the  writing  of  it,  that  nothing  be  omitted  that  was 
wanted  to  attract  a  purchaser.  She  took  infinite  pains  with  the  composi- 
tion. A  jady  owning  a  large  wheat  farm  in  the  neighborhood  allowed  no 
grass  to  grow  under  her  feet  before  coming  in  to  see  the  "pleasant  home," 
the  description  of  which  had  so  attracted  her.  Everything  satisfied  her. 
The  cash  payment  was  made,  which  enabled  my  friends  to  make  the 
change  in  comfort,  leaving  no  debts  behind  them.  "Surely  an  answer  to 
the  prayer  of  faith,"  said  my  friend.  I  added,  "As  surely  as  that  the 
steps  of  a  good  man  (or  woman)  are  ordered,  that  is,  arranged  for,  by 
the  Lord!" 

Louisa  A'umuxy  Nash. 
Nashville,  Oregon. 


imo 


The  liincmnh'  Club  303 


THE  ITINERANTS'  CLUB 


SERMONIC  LITERATURE 
Tin:  sermon  is  not  generally  considered  as  a  part  of  our  literature, 
nn.l  yet  there  is  uo  adequate  reason  why  it  should  be  excluded.  Within 
a  recent  period,  however,  the  Bible,  as  literature,  has  received  a  new  ini- 
IK-tus.  and  the  writings  of  the  Old  Testameiit  and  the  New  have  taken  their 
place  among  the  literary  productions  of  the  world.  There  is  the  further 
fart  that  the  sermon  based  on  the  Holy  Scriptures  has  its  literary  side  as 
well.  It  is  not  intended  to  appeal  so  much  to  the  aesthetic  faculty  as  to 
tho  relijUous  and  moral  faculty,  and  yet  it  has  its  relation  to  all  the 
powers  of  man. 

Sermonic  literature  has  hitherto  in  our  own  country  not  attained  the 
prominence  which  it  has  secured  in  some  European  countries.  Anyone 
who  r»--:uls  the  writings  of  such  distinguished  scholars  as  Dr.  Vaughan,  at 
one  time  Master  of  the  Temple  in  London,  Dr.  Lightfoot,  Dr.  Wcstcott,  Dr. 
Llddou.  will  fmd  that  much  of  the  work  by  which  they  became  known  was 
their  sermons.  The  writer  of  this  has  noticed  on  the  tables  of  the  book- 
bloifh  in  Germany  sermons  which  have  been  recently  preached  and  v.-hich 
hav»«  bi-en  placed  there  for  general  circulation.  Of  course  special  occasions 
of  a  religious  character  will  always  more  or  less  call  for  sermonic  litera- 
ture. This  was  manifest  in  the  recent  Calvin  celebration  in  Geneva. 
Throughout  Germany  and  the  Reformed  Churches  of  France  and  Switzer- 
land, sermons  were  delivered  which  have  become  a  part  of  the  religious 
Ulorature  of  these  countries.  The  preachers  of  former  times  left  a  sermonic 
lltvraturo  of  great  value:  Butler's  sermons  are  almost  as  vrell  known  as 
hlj  Analogy;  Southey's  sermons  have  been  for  many  years  a  mine  in  which 
niinisters  were  accustomed  to  delve;  Barrow's  sermons,  with  their  endless 
Buhdivlsion?,  have  been  preserved  in  literature.  In  recent  times  Beechei's 
ivrmous  have  had  a  wide  circulation  and  are  still  vigorous.  Spurgeon's 
^<•^Illo5.s  luul  an  enormous  sale  during  his  life,  and  v>^e  are  told  that  they 
li.'ivo  Jit  in  11  large  reading.  The  sermons  of  Horace  Bushnell  have  been  as 
•-;»!.iy  read  as  his  other  writings,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal.  To  all 
a;'i«;»;.'»Rce.s,  there  Bcems  to  be  a  revival  of  sermonic  literature  in  our  own 
couiitry.  for  which  we  should  be  grateful. 

'HuTe  are  several  reasons  why  the  spread  of  sermonic  literature  is 
Wnporlaut.  The  sermon  is,  or  should  be,  the  finest  product  of  the  intellect 
J>:..l  iKan.  There  is  no  kind  of  discourse  which  involves  more  qualities  of 
l?.t'  )iir:ii'::;t  kind  than  the  sermon.  A  specialist  on  sojuc  particular  line 
tr.^j  write  a  book  in  his  own  department  containing  the  latest  results  of 
S:»M'-tlKatl«>i).  11(5  do-.ils  in  farts  of  a  scientiOc  character  open  to  observa- 
I '.'-•')  .11. .1  physical  o.xjicriment.  The  subject  of  the  sermon  is  the  highest 
»';!',U<1  that  can  engage  the  attention  of  man;  it  has  to  do  with  God  and 
irM\.  with  duty  and  destiny;  it  must  have  visions  of  the  future,  and  apply 
th«-  lo;j(lilnr.s  of  the  gosi-cl  to  the  details  of  human  life.    It  involves  the- 


304  McOtodist  Bcv'ieiv  [March 

ologj',  metaphysics,  psychology,  the  everyday  lifo  of  man.  It  touches  time 
and  eternity.  The  subjects  of  which  it  treats  arc  as  broad  as  humanity. 
The  highest  thought  and  richest  experience  and  the  profounclest  scholar- 
ship have  their  fitting  place  in  the  sermon.  The  sermon  should  be  cir- 
culated, for  it  ought  to  represent  the  best  that  there  is  in  the  world.  It 
is  no  argument  against  this  view  that  ajiparently  so  many  do  not  have 
this  high  estimate,  and  sometimes  ministers  preach  in  a  perfunctory  waj' 
without  the  full  devotion  of  all  their  powers.  There  are  sermons,  how- 
ever, which  for  the  time  sway  comnmnities  and  have  been  remembered 
for  generations.  President  l-^dwards's  sermon  on  the  text,  "Their  foot  shall 
slide  in  due  time,"  is  historic;  the  topic  was  "Sinners  in  the  Hands  of  on 
Angry  God";  and  Chalmej's's  great  sermon  on  "The  Expulsive  Power  of  a 
New  Affection"  stirred  the  nation.  Jlany  sei'mons  in  these  days  are  well 
worthy  to  be  recognized  in  the  literary  life  of  the  world. 

Serraonic  literature  should  be  widely  spread  because  sermons  are  for 
all  people  and  rarely  represent  sectarian  aspects  of  truth.  As  a  rule,  in 
these  modern  days  sermons  arc  not  controversial.  It  is  common  for 
preachers  of  the  various  denominations  to  exchange  pulpits.  It  would  be 
manifestly  a  breach  of  courtesy  for  a  pastor  to  go  into  another  pulpit  and 
preach  doctrines  out  of  harmony  with  the  position  which  he  is  called  to 
fill.  Very  few  ministers  need  to  change  a  single  thing  in  their  sermons  in 
order  to  preach  acceptably  to  any  evangelical  congregation.  The  great 
fundamental  truths  of  all  branches  of  the  Christian  Church  are  common 
to  all.  The  familiarity  of  the  people  with  the  sermons  of  the  ministers  of 
other  churches  will  reveal  how  much  they  have  in  common. 

Sermonic  literature  should  be  diffused  also  because  the  sermon  is  pre- 
pared for  a  practical  purpose.  Every  sermon  has,  or  should  have,  a  pur- 
pose.  This  purpose  is  direct  and  immediate;  it  is  either  to  instruct  the 
mind,  to" stir  the  heart  or  to  move  the  people  to  action,  hence  its  applica^ 
tion  is  wider  than  the  particular  audience  to  which  it  is  addressed.  The 
wide  circulation  of  sermonic  literature  renders  an  important  service  to 
the  unity  of  Christendom.  The  tastes  of  the  people  vary  at  different 
periods  in  history;  sometimes  we  have  a  poetical  period,  when  Tennyson 
and  Browning,  Wordsworth  and  Longfellow,  and  other  masters  of  poetic 
form,  attract  the  attention.  Again  we  have  the  festhetic  period,  when 
literary  production  gatheis  around  the  fine  arts.  But  the  sermon  also  has 
its  period,  and  we  think  that  period  is  now;  both  in  England  and  America 
the  output  of  sermonic  literature  is  very  great.  Even  the  public  press, 
recognizing  the  relation  of  religion  to  life,  and  noting  the  subjects  on 
which  people  are  thinking,  gives  a  large  space  to  the  literature  of  the 
church,  especially  its  sermonic  literature. 


ENGLISH  VEPvSlONS  OF  THE  LORD'S  PRAYER 

Matthew  C.  9-12.  Our  l^ord  now  proceeds  to  give  a  form  of  prayer 
which  njay  be  called  Cliri$t'.=;  Universal  Prayer.  It  has  been  repeated  in 
every  language  where  the  knowledge  of  him  has  come;  it  has  been  on  the 
lips  of  the  wise  man  in  his  wisdom,  of  the  suffering  in  his  anguish,  of  the 
joyful  in  his  hopes,  of  the  poor  in  his  poverty.    It  is  a  prayer  so  perfect 


1910]  The  Itmeranis'  Cluh  305 

and  complete  that  nothing  has  ever  been  added  to  It,  and  no  one  has  been 
ftblo  to  take  anything  from  it  without  marriiiG  its  perfection.  There  is 
no  bocly  of  Christians  where  it  is  not  known,  imd  do  service  of  the  Church 
of  Christ  where  it  is  not  found  welcome.  It  is  introduced  in  the  ninth 
verse  of  the  sixth  chapter  of  Matthew  in  the  language,  "After  this  manner 
therefore  pray  ye."  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  by  "this  manner"  our 
Saviour  means  that  his  disciples  are  always  to  employ  this  jjrcclse  lan- 
guage, and  yet  it  was  a  form  of  prayer  which  they  might  use,  and  which 
has  been  used,  all  through  the  Christian  centuries.  Comparing  it  with 
the  context,  it  would  seem  as  if  it  might  have  been  intended  to  be  the 
expression  in  which  our  Lord  chose  to  unite  the  church  at  tho  tlirouc  of 
the  heavenly  grace. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  English  versions  of  this  prayer  are  so 
uniform.  It  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  ])lace  before  tho  readers  the 
several  great  versions  as  they  have  come  down  to  us: 

WiCLIF— 13S0. 
Our  father  that  art  iu  heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name ;  thy  kingdom  come 
to ;  be  thy  will  as  doue  in  h<aveu  and  iu  earth  ;  give  to  us  this  day  our  bread 
or  other  substance,  and  forgive  to  us  our  debts,  a.=!  we  forgive  to  our  debtors; 
and  lend  ns  not  in  to  temptation,  but  deliver  u.s  from  evil.     Ameu. 

Tyndale — 1531. 
O  our  father  which  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name.  lyct  thy  kingdom 
come.  Thy  will  be  fulfilled,  as  v.-ell  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us 
this  day  our  daily  broad.  And  forgive  us  our  trespasses,  evou  as  we  forgive 
our  IrcHpasscrs.  And  lead  us  not  into  temptation  :  but  deliver  us  from  evil. 
For  thine  is  the  kingdom  and  the  power,  and  t!io  glon-  for  ever.    Amen. 

Cranmkr — ir>;i9. 
Our  father  which  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  bo  thy  name.  Tx-t  thy  kingdom 
come.  Thy  will  be  fulfilled,  as  well  in  earth,  as  it  is  iu  heaven.  Give  us  this 
day  our  daily  bread.  And  forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors. 
And  lead  us  not  inlb^emptalion  :  but  deliver  us  from  evil.  For  thiue  is  the 
kingdom  and  the  power;  and  the  glory  for  ever.     Amen. 

Geneva — 1557 
Our  father  whicli  art  iu  heaven,  hallowed  be  tliy  name.  Ixt  thy  kingdom 
come.  Thy  will  be  done  even  iu  earth,  as  it  is  iu  heaven.  Give  us  this  day 
our  daily  brend.  And  forgive  us  our  debts,  even  as  we  forgive  our  debtors. 
And  lend  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil.  For  thine  is  the 
kingdom,  and  the  power,  aud  the  glory  for  ever.     Ameu. 

RiiEiMS— 1582 
Our  Father  which  art  in  hcavcu,  sanctified  Ik'  thy  name.     Ix!t  thy  King- 
dom come.     'J'hy  will  be  doue,  as  in  heaven,  in  earth  also.     Give  us  to  day  our 
suiKTsubslanlial    bread.      And    forgive    us    our   debts,    as    we   also    forgive   our 
debtors.     And  lead  us  not  into  temptation.     But  deliver  us  from  evil.     Araen. 

AUTHOKIZED — 1011 
Our  falJK  r  which   art   iu   heaven,   hallowed   be   thy   Name.     Thy   kingdom 
como.     Thy  will  be  done,  iu  earth,  as  it  is  iu  hoaveu.     Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  br.-nd.     And  forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  dcbtoi-s.     Aud  lead 


300  Methodist  Iievicv:  [Marcli 

us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  lis  from  evil:  For  tbitic  is  the  kingdom,  and 
the  power,  and  the  c'ory,  for  ever.     Amen. 

Reviskd  Veusion — 18S1 
Our  Father  whieli   art  in   heaven,   Hallowed   be  thy  name.     Thy  kingdom 
come.     Thy  will  Ik-  done,  as  in  heaven,  t-o  on  oarth.     Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread.     And  forgive  us  ovir  debts,  as  we  also  have  forgiven  our  debtors.     And 
bring  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  tlie  evil  one. 

RnvjsFi)  VERSION — 1901 
Our  Father  who   art   in    heaven.    Hallowed   bo   thy    name.     Thy   kingdom 
come.    Thy  will  be  done,  as  in  heaven,  so  on  earth.     Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread.     Aud  forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  also  have  forgiven  our  debtors.     And 
brinp  us  not  into  teuiptation,  but  deliver  us  from  the  evil  one. 

Any  analysis  of  this  prayer,  beyond  that  in  the  prayer  itself,  is  not 
proposed  here.  It  involves,  however,  fundamental  doctrines  wliich  lie  at 
the  root  of  these  supplications:  (1)  "Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven." 
The  prayer  begins  with  the  precious  name  by  which  God  is  ever  known 
to  his  people.  It  is  an  assertion  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God — God  the 
universal  Father  of  all  lands,  all  climes,  all  races.  There  is  no  one  excluded 
from  his  fatherly  care  and  there  are  none  to  whom  he  will  not  listen  when 
men  approach  him  in  confidence  and  faith.  (2)  The  second  paragraph 
Involves  the  holiness  of  God — "Hollowed  he  thy  name."  Of  al!  the 
attributes  of  God  the  greatest  and  noblest  is  holiness.  It  is  the  supreme 
thought  of  the  Old  Testament  and  of  the  New  concerning  him.  "Holy, 
HolA-,  Holy,  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  heaven  and  earth  are  full  of  thy  glory." 
The  holiness  of  God  is  essential  to  all  true  conceptions  of  Christian  thought 
and  all  life;  it  is  the  central  idea  around  which  all  thoughts  of  God  must 
turn.  (3)  It  alhrms  the  reign  of  God — "Thy  kingdom  come."  It  is  a 
prayer  that  his  rule  may  fill  the  whole  earth.  The  psalmist  says:  "The 
Lord  relgneth;  let  the  earth  rejoice";  and  again  he  says:  "The  Lord 
reigneth;  let  the  people  tremble."  (4)  It  aflirms  that  the  will  of  God  is 
the  law  of  the  universe — "Thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven." 
When  that  will  is  done  the  triumph  of  the  gospel  v/ill  be  complete.  The 
will  of  God  is  the  law  of  life,  and  tlie  only  law  by  v/hich  his  human 
creatures  are  properly  governed.  (5)  This  beautiful  prayer  expresses  the 
brotherhood  of  human  need — "Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  It  is  the 
universal  call  of  people  for  temporal  support,  although  it  may  imply 
spiritual  needs  as  well.  Men  are  bound  together  in  a  common  need  for  the 
supply  of  daily  natural  and  spiritual  food.  This  petition  assumes  God 
as  the  giver  of  both.  It  expresses  (G),  further,  the  gracious  forgivcne.ss 
of  human  sin  and  the  condition  without  which  it  cannot  be  granted — 
"Forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors."  The  Father  heart 
will  forgive  us  our  sins,  l)nt  it  is  iiccomi)anied  with  the  law  that  we  also 
must  forgive  the  sins  of  others.  (7.)  The  thought  of  the  next  petition  is 
the  divine  care  of  the  Father  for  his  childi-en  in  the  time  of  trial.  It 
Is  a  prayer  not  to  abandon  them  to  temptation;  to  preserve  them  from 
conditions  of  life  whicli  may  lead  tbem  into  temptation.  (8)  It  is,  further. 
a  prayer  for  deliverance  fiom  evil.    The  Ilovised  Versions  render,  "deliver 


1910]  The  Itinerants'  Club  307 

118  from  the  evil  one,"  with  maij^in,  "evil."  The  grand  conclusion  of  the 
jji-ayer  as  found  In  the  majoiity  of  the  earlier  versions,  "For  thiuc  is  the 
kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory  forever.  Araen,"  is  omitted  from 
the  recent  versions.  It  seems  to  the  writer  that  it  is  still  an  open  question 
whether  the  authority  in  its  favor  is  not  strong  enough  to  warrant  its 
retention.  The  marginal  note  of  the  Revised  Version  is  worthy  of  con- 
sideration: "Many  authorities,  some  ancient,  but  with  variations,  add, 
'For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory  forever.    Amen.'" 

It  may  be  well  to  note  some  of  the  difterenee.s  as  well  as  some  of  the 
Ijarmonies  of  these  versions.  The  first  sentence  of  the  prayer  is  the  same 
in  all  the  versions  with  the  exception  of  Tyudale's,  which  begins  with  "O 
our  Father"  instead  of  "Our  Father,"  and  the  Ilhcims  version,  which  sub- 
Etitutes  "sanctified"  for  "hallowed."  The  next  petition  is  in  Wyclif,  "Thy 
kingdom  come  to";  the  subsequent  versions  down  to  the  Authorized 
Version  in  IGll  have  "let  thy  kingdom  come."  The  version  of  Cranmor, 
in  1539,  the  Geneva  version,  and  the  Authorized  Version  are  strikingly 
similar.  The  Rhoims  version  of  1582  instead  of  "Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread,"  which  runs  tlirough  nearly  all  versions,  has  "give  us  to-day 
our  suiK-rsubstantial  bread,"  after  the  Vulgate.  It  is  further  to  be  noted 
that  the  Wyclif  version,  the  Rheinis  version,  and  the  versions  of  INS]  and 
li'Ol  omit  the  last  clause  of  the  prayer,  "For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the 
jiower,  and  the  glory  forever.    Amen." 

We  note  also  a  forcible  change  in  the  two  more  recent  versions  in  the 
la.st  clause  of  the  petition,  "And  forgive  us  our  debts  as  we  forgive  our 
debtors."  These  versions  render  the  last  part,  "As  we  also  have  forgiven 
our  debtors."  The  ordinary  rendering  is  "As  we  forgive  our  debtors," 
following  the  Greek  of  Textus  Receptus.  The  rendering  of  the  recent 
versions  evidently  intends  to  follow  the  more  recent  text  and  trausl^ite, 
"As  we  have- forgiven  our  del)tors."  If  the  force  of  the  aorist  is  stiictly 
adhered  to,  instead  of  "have  forgiven,"  as  these  versions  put  it,  we  should 
have  "forgave,"  although  the  rendering  of  the  aorist  by  the  perfect  is 
found  often  in  all  the  revisions  of  the  New  Testament.  One  cannot  in 
the  examination  of  the  translations  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  fail  to  be  im- 
pressed with  the  accuracy  of  those  who  from  the  beginning  have  rendered 
the  Greek  text  into  English.  Comparing  the  AVyclif  text  of  1380  with  the 
text  of  to-day,  we  are  surprised  at  the  accuracy  with  which  this  prayer 
was  rendered  then;  and  the  text  of  Tyndale  in  1534  with  slight  variations 
anticipates  the  text  of  the  Authorized  Version  in  IGll,  and,  except  in 
the  lust  clause,  that  of  1881  and  1001.  No  one  can  note  these  things  v.-ith- 
out  recognizing  the  providential  guidance  of  the  noble  men  who  ventured 
thfir  lives  to  jjlacc  in  the  hands  of  the  people  the  priceless  treasure  of 
tbe  "Word  of  God.  The  prayer  has  been  so  frequently  expounded  in  com- 
nieulary  and  homily  and  sermon  that  a  detailed  exposition  iy  not  called 
for;  Its  geucral  import  is  all  that  may  be  noted  at  this  time. 


308  Methodist  Jicvieio  [Marcli 


AHOHffiOLOGY  AND  BIBLICAL  RESEARCH 


THE    PONTIFICAL    BIBLICAL    INSTITUTE 

Studictnts  of  the  Biljle,  rcgiirdless  of  denomination  or  country,  will  be 
plent-ed  to  learn  that  the  Church  of  Rome  has  just  opened  a  Biblical  luBtl- 
tute,  v/hioli  promises  great  things  in  the  realm  of  biblical  research  and 
advanced  eludy  of  Holy  Writ.  This  is  the  more  interesting,  sijice  during 
the  past  few  years  American  Protestants,  especially,  have  been  gradually 
discounting  a  thorough  study  of  the  Bible  in  the  original  lauyuages. 
Much  twaddle  has  recently  appeared  in  our  religious  press  from  men  not 
entitled  to  speak  on  the  subject  about  the  advisability  of  making  Hebrew, 
If  not  Greek  also,  elective  in  our  theological  seminaries.  If  we  are 
correctly  informed,  this  has  been  done  in  some  places,  such  is  the  competi- 
tion for  students!  It  is,  therefore,  refreshing  to  see  Rome,  while  her 
Protestant  sisters  seem  to  retrograde,  taking  an  advanced  step  by  the 
establishment  in  A.  D.  1909  of  an  Institute  endowed  with  every  facility 
for  a  thorough  study  of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Let  us  not  be  misunderstood; 
we  do  not  intimate  th.at  Rome  is  in  advance  or  even  on  a  par  with  the 
Protestant  v.-orld  in  opportunities  for  work  of  this  kind.  'We  simply  call 
attention  to  the  present  condition  of  things  in  the  two  branches  of  the 
Christian  Church. 

This  step  of  Rome  is  significant.  It  points  very  clearly  to  the  fact 
that  the  Catholic  Church  in  tlio  future  will  meet  the  destructive  critics  on 
their  own  grounds  and  will  not  allow  the  best  biblical  learning  to  be  in 
the  hands  of  the  rationalists.  It  is  also  hoped  that  our  Protestant  young 
ministers  v.'ill  become  more  and  more  and  not  less  proficient  in  all  that 
pertains  to  a  thorough  study  of  the  Old  as  well  as  the  New  Testament. 
Information  regarding  this  new  Institute  is  given  in  the  Acta  Pontifici 
Institvti  Bihlxci,  which,  like  all  official  documents  of  the  Roman  Church, 
is  publi.'=he<l  in  Latin.  The  Acta-  corresponds  to  the  bulletin  or  announce- 
ments of  our  colleges  and  seminaries.  It  is  to  be  issued  periodically  as 
^  occasion  may  require. 

We  reproduce  in  full  this  first  ofiicial  bulletin  of  the  Institutei,  whicli 
is  as  followa: 

ACTA     OF     THE     PONTIFICAL     BIBLICAL     INSTITUTE 

(;i;ni:i;.\),  AxNonNci:Mi;r>T,s 

1.  Locaiion  of  the  Infitiluic.  Tlio  lioadtiiiartcrs  of  the  Inslitnto  have  been 
established  tcoiporarily  at  tlie  Pontifical  Leonine  College,  near  Saint  Joachim's 
Churcli,  whore  rooms  for  lectures  nud  coiifprencos  (recitations),  ns  well  as  for 
the  librai-j'.  will  be  ready  at  the  bogiuuiuj;  of  next  November  (1009). 

2.  Cojiditions  of  Admission.  Those  desiring  to  pur.'<ue  Ihe  Ptudies  of  the 
Institut'''  must  send  their  names  iu  writing  to  llie  president,  statins  (1)  the 
diocese,  tiie  relif,'ious  order  or  conKrogatiou  to  which  they  belong;  (2)  their 
place  of  birth  and  present  residence;    (3)   the  sacred  order  to  which  they  have 


*  Anyone    cl.^iring  the  Latin  oii^ina!   will   Cud  it  bi  the  Dt-combcr  (lOW'*  issue  of  thn 
American  Eocleainti ileal  Iveviow,  Pliiluclolplija.  a  very  ably  edited  Catholic  nioutUly. 


1910]  Arcliojology  and  Bihlical  L'escarch  309 

been  onlninc*!,  %vith  place  and  date  of  ordination;  (4)  (bcir  academicol 
degrees,  if  nny,  with  phuc  aud  date  of  their  graduati<in. 

According  to  the  rules  governing  the  Institute  ahimni  muHt  be  Doctors  in 
Sacred  Theoiogj'  and  must  have  completed  the  course  in  scholastic  philosoiihy. 
These  only  are,  properly  spcakiuK.  students  of  the  Institufe;  those  who  have 
linished  the  regular  course  in  jdiilosophy  and  theoloi^y  may  be  cnrolKd  as 
auJitarcs  (hearers)  ;  the  hospitcs  (guests)  may  be  admitted  to  the  lectures 
simply  as  guests  without  any   tonditions. 

Every  apidicant  for  admission  mut^t  iufonn  llie  president  v.-hethcr  he  wishes 
to  enroll  in  the  list  of  alumui,  oudilorcs,  or  hosi)itcs,  and  ujion  reaching  Rome 
must  present  to  the  president  the  original  certificate  of  having  fniished  his 
theological  and  philosophical  studies,  as  well  as  the  certificate  of  the  theological 
degree  which  he  may  have  won.  Moreover,  be  must  bring  autheTitic  documents 
by  which  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  may  ascertain  that  lie  comes  with  the 
consent  and  permission  of  the  ordinary  (bishop)  or  the  siiin^rior  of  his  com- 
munity, and  that  the  faculties  for  performing  sacred  functions  have  been 
legitimately  granted  to  him. 

Students  intending  to  prepare  themselves  for  the  examinations  before  the 
Pontifical  Biblical  Institute  for  the  degree  of  Licentiate  (prolyiatus)  are 
admitted  on  condition  that  they  attend  all  lectures  and  exorcises,  ri-gu!arly, 
unless  specially  or  legitimately  dispensed.  The  studies  marked  ♦  in  the  subjoined 
program  are  obligatory.  None  except  aJumni  are  admitted  to  the  conferences 
or  practical  exercises  marked  f  unless  it  be  those  who  are  qualified  to  lend 
therein  an  active  cooperation. 

No  fee  will  be  charged  for  enrolling,  class  work,  or  use  of  the  library. 

All  students  of  the  Institute,  whether  alumni,  aiiditores,  or  Jiospites,  may 
suit  their  own  convenience  as  to  board  and  lodgings  in  the  various  colleges  or 
religious  houst-s  of  the  city,  as  the  Institute  is  not  concerned  in  such  things. 

3.  Distribution  of  Studies.  In  conformity  with  the  rules  of  the  Institute 
the  subject-matter  (materia)  of  the  studies  is  chiefly  that  required  by  the 
Pontifical  Bible  Commission  for  the  conferring  of  academical  degrees.  To  these 
will  be  added  the  pursuit  of  other  subjects  which  may  lead  to  a  more  extensive 
knowledge  of  biblical  science  iu  general. 

As  for  those  subjects  required  for  the  degree  of  Licentiate  under  tlie  head- 
ing, "rules  for  the  examination"  (raiione  pcriclitandm  doctrinal)  they  are 
distributed  in  a  two-years'  course,  in  such  a  way  that  about  one  half  may  be 
taken  every  year.  As  to  the  preparation  for  tlie  degree  of  Doctor,  which 
requires  much  study  and  greater  individual  and  private  application,  oil  can- 
didates may  i)rofit  greatly  during  the  biennial  course  (or  when  that  is  com- 
pleted during  the  third  year),  by  the  methodological  and  bibliographical  work 
and  (he  conferences  given  for  the  benefit  of  those  aspiring  for  the  Doctor's 
degree. 

Aside  from  the  reciuirod  lectures  and  exercises,  students  may  also,  with 
the  advice  and  consent  of  the  president,  elect  other  lectures  and  exercises 
which  they  may  deem  profitable.  As  a  rule,  the  same  course  of  study  is  nut 
Buitable  for  all,  and  for  that  reason  the  same  lectures  and  exercises  will  not  be 
attended  by  all  students;  but  lest  any  may  be  led  in  the  wrong  direction,  it 
will  be  well  for  all  to  consult  invariably  their  superiors  in  selecting  courses. 

4.  Ji'.ginnin'j  of  the  I.ccturm.  Lectures  and  exercises,  by  the  goodness  of 
Cod.  will  begin  November  5,  nfUlD. 

r>.  iJanminatiotys  for  the  drijrcv  of  JArcntiatc  in  Sacred  Scripture  heforc 
the  I'lintifieal  llihlc  Commission.  There  will  be  two  «^xaniinations  for  the 
above  degree  during  the  coming  year;  the  first  on  November  15,  IG,  and  18,  in 
the  other  toward  the  end  of  June. 


310 


Mc  Hindi  si  JReview 


[]^i:arch 


LFcrrRFcs  AND  r'KAcTicAL  ExrRcisi:s  OF  THE  Institute 
The  siga  *   inarics  the  roqiiinc!     ](<iures   for    the    Licentiate;    tiie   sicni    t 
tleiiotea    the    practical    oxercisos.      The    subjects    iu    the    left-haufl    column    are 
sliulies  of   the    first   yi-ar,    and    those   on   the   rijrht   side   belong   to   the   second, 
while  those  covering  the  entire  page  apply  to  both  years. 

1.  The  Method  of  Stuch/  of  Sacred  Scripture 

•(•The  scientific  uietliod  in  general;  the  scientific  study  of  the  Sacred 
Scripture  in  particular;  the  several  parts  of  biblical  study;  the  auxiliary 
disciplines  pertaining  to  thi'r-  study:  biblical  literature;  the  most  recent  biblical 
books  and  commentaries. 

jThe  practical  study  of  Sacred  Scripture  for  the  priestly  ministry. 

tThe  difliculties  which  meet  us  in  tiie  study  of  Sacred  Scripture. 

2.  General  Introduction  to  Sacred  Scripture 

*Thc  inspiration  and  inerrancy  of  the  Sacred  Scripture;  the  laws  of 
biblical  hermenculics ;  the  literal  and  the  typical  sense  of  Sacred  Scripture. 


The  origin  and  authority  of  tho  J.Ias- 
oretic  text  and  its  history;  tho  Greek 
and  Oriental  versiouG  of  sacreci  Scrip- 
ture; the  historj^  of  the  canon  of  the 
Old  Testament. 

tThe  principles  of  textual  critir-ism 
and  tlieir  applir-ation  to  the  sacred 
text  of  the  Ok!  Testament. 


The  Greek  test  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment and  its  histor3';  history  and  au- 
thenticity of  the  Vulgate:  other  Occi- 
dental versions  of  the  Sacrc-d  Scrip- 
tures; history  of  the  canon  of  the  New 
Testament. 

t  Practical  exercises  on  the  criticism 
of  the  text  of  the  Ne>Y  Testament. 


3.   Spccir.l   Introduction   to  the  Different  Sacred  Boohs 


*  Special  introduction  to  the  books 
of  tho  Old  Tcstam.'ut. 

*  Special  intiodurtion  to  the  histori- 
cal books  of  the  Now  Testament  and 
to  the  Epistles  and  Ai)ocalypseof  Soint 
John. 


"Special  introduction  to  the  didactic 
and  prophetical  books  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament. 

*  Special  introduction  to  the  Pauline 
and  to  the  other  Catholic  Epistles. 


.}.   Intcrpretaiiun  of  the  S'ncrcd  Text 


*t  Exegesis  of  the  Hebrew  text  First 
and  Second  Kings. 

'•t  Exege.si3  of  the  Greek  text  of  the 
four  Gospels  up  to  the  Passion  of 
Christ. 

S<?lected  texts  from  the  historical 
books  of  the  Old  Testament. 

Selected  texts  from  the  Gospels  and 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 


*t  Exegesis  of  the  Hebrew  text  of 
Third  and  Fourth  Kings  [First  and 
Second  Chronicles]. 

=^1  Exegesis  of  the  Greek  text  of  the 
remaining  parts  of  the  Gospels  and  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles. 

Selected  texts  from  tho  didactic  and 
prophetic  books  of  the  Old  Te-st anient. 

Selected  texts  from  the  Epistles  and 
the  Apocalypse. 


5.  Pihlical   Thcologj 
Selected  questions   from    the   biblical    theology  of  tli 
Testaments. 

C.  lUbllcol  IJi^tonj 


Old  and   of   the  New 


*t  Hiftorv  of  the  Hebrews  from 
Sanuiel  to  the  death  of  Solomon. 

*t  (iospel  History. 

Selected  questions  from  tho  other 
parts  of  the  historical  books  of  the 
Old  Testament;  general  vi^w  of  Baby- 
lonian and  A.ssyrian  history. 

*  ThedilTerent  sects  among  the  Jews 
at  the  time  of  Christ 


*1-nistory  of  the  Hebrews  from  the 
division  of 'the  kingdom  to  the  Baby- 
lonian captivity. 

*t  Aiw-lolic  history  to  the  first  im- 
prisonment of  Saint  Paul  at  Rome. 

Selected  p-assages  from  other  parts 
of  the  biblical  itistory  of  the  New  Tes- 
Uunent;  general  view  of  Egyptian  )iia- 
torv. 

Tho  liistory  of  the  Jews  from  A.  D. 
30-130. 


1910]  Archaology  and  Biblical  Research  311 

7.  BlhUrul  Gcoyraphy 

*  Tlio  inliabitaiitfi  of  Palestine.  *  Division   of   PnlesUnc   and  topog- 
f  Gfo^r.'iphy  of  Palestino  at  the  time       rapliy    of  Jeru.'^alem   ut    the    time    of 

of  tho  Kings.  Christ, 

Hibhcal  t,TK)graj>Iiy  of  Syria.  Mesopo-  *  Journeys  of  Saint  Paul, 

t^unia,  and  Arabia.  Biblical  "goography  of    Egypt,    Asia 

Minor,  Greece,  and  Italy. 

S.   nillicul  Arrhaaologii 

*  The  calendar  and  jirinoipal  sacred  *  The   mo.st  ancient    Palestinian  jn- 
ritcs  of  tlie  Hebrews.                                       .scriiilions. 

*  The  ancient  Hebrew  synagogues.  *\S'f;igbts,  mea.suie3  and  coins  men- 
The  Tabernacle  of  the  Covenant  and       tioned  in  the  Sacred  B<:riptures. 

the  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  1  Semitic      paleography;       Aramaic 

■f  Greek    and      Latin      paleography:       papyri. 
Greek,  papyri  ajid  ostraci. 

9.  BihlicaJ  Philologij 
Higher  courses  in  Hebrew ;  the  Greek  of  the  New  Testainont. 
A  course  in  some  one  of  the  ciher  Oriental  languages  to  coutiuue  for  two 
years  will   be  offered   in  alternate  years.     Hebrew,  Syriac,  aii'l   Coptic  v,'ill   be 
given  next  year. 

10.  Ilisioruul  JJxrgcsis 

Judaic  oxegofiis;  the  exegesis  of  the  Consi^ectiis    of    historical     exegesis 

(irtvk  ajid  Latin  fathers  to  the  eiglith       from  the  eighth  century  to  the  present 
centur)'.  time. 

Public  Conferences 

To  attain  the  end  sought  by  the  Apostolic  See  in  founding  the  Biblical 
Insliliile,  besides  tho  lectures  and  exercises,  public  conferences  on  biblical 
subjects  will  be  held,  so  as  to  meet  the  desires  and  needs  of  the  many  de.siring 
biblical   iiistruction. 

During  the  firs!  year  public  couference  will  be  held  to  discuss,  amoug 
other  subjects;  Palestinian  conditions  throwing  light  upon  the  life  of  Christ, 
as  related  in  the  Scriptures ;  the  vain  efforts  of  a  false  science  against  the 
truth  of  the  Gospels. 

Whenever  the  nature 'or  character  of  the  subject  will  permit,  the  leclurt»s 
in  tlie.se  conferences  will  be  illu.slratcd  by  nioaus  of  electric  projections  (pro- 
ject ionilus  dcciricis ) . 

Further  details  v.ill  be  announced  in  duo  time  and  place. 

The  PuriLicATioN.s  or  the  Institute 

The  publications  issui'd  by  the  Inslitnte  in  conformity  with  the  Apostolic 
b'ttiT,  ]'iiica  IJlccta,  ;ind  us  the  third  nioiins  to  attaiu  the  end  in  view  will  be 
of  tlir.  e  kinds  : 

1.  Acta  Pontifici  Jnstitnii  liihlici.  Those  will  contain  information  regarding 
til.  work  and  affairs  of  the  Institute,  and  \vill  be  issued  whenever  opportan.? 
or  necessary. 

-.  Heside.s  the  Ada  and  as  soon  as  possible,  there  shall  appear  Coinunti- 
tationa,  of  the  Instilulo.  This  biMicil  ciuarlcrly  will  i)ay  special  attention  tn 
evirylliini:  of  prim.'  iniiiortanee  in  biblical  studies,  and  will  vii;orously  endeavor 
10  cncournge  by  erudite  elucidations  (he  study  of  the  l^ible  in  all  its  branches, 
and  all  suhjeets  related  to  it. 

:<.  .SVn/j/d  I'ontifici  hif.Hluli  liihltii.  These  will  be  work.s  and  pnniphlets 
Itj  hannoiiy  with  the  injuuctious  of  tiie  TiHra  1-Jlecia,  and  of  three  kind.s  (1)  a 
Bci.-i;iifio-theoretieal  series  for  erudite  biblical  investigalious ;    (2)    a  scieutilic, 


312  Methodist  Beviaw  [March 

practical  series  for  tho  expoKiiion  auJ  dcfonso  of  Caiholic  trnth  regarding  the 
sacred  bcKjks;  (3)  n  Rcioutific-popiilnr  series,  having  iu  view  the  dissemination 
and  popuiari/.ntion  of  pouiiil  tciifhing  regarding  the  Bible. 

Of  the  above  publications  the  Acta  will  contain  nothing  except  that  an- 
nounced ofiicinlly  by  the  Institute.  The  Commcntationcs  and  Scripta-  are  open 
for  all,  and  contributions  will  be  accepted  from  every  quarter,  provided,  of 
course,  that  su<-h  con' ribulious  meet  the  requirenionts  iiaturaliy  expected  in  such 
works.  Moreover,  the  Institute  earnestly  recjuosts  all  tI)ose  who  h.avc  at  heart 
the  true  progress  of  biblical  knowledge,  and  are  qualified  to  assist  the  Instiliuo 
by  sending  erudite  dissertations  and  di.squisiiions  on  biblical  topics,  and  also 
books  and  pamphlets  to  ajipear  in  the  triple  series  of  the  Srn'pta,  Contribu- 
tions need  not  be  in  Latin  or  Italian,  but  may  be  written  in  English,  French, 
German,  or  Spanish. 

It  is  also  requested  that  authors  and  editors  of  books  or  Irochurcs  on 
biblical  studios  send  their  publications  to  the  Institute,  and,  for  this  double 
purpose:  (1)  that  all  sneh  works  may  l>e  noticed  in  the  Co),uneniationcg,  and 
(2)  that  an  abundance  of  addilional  and  subsidiary  biblical  literature  may  be 
ahvays  at  the  disposition  of  tlie  students  iu  the  Institute  library. 

And  to  attain  the  above  twofold  end,  it  would  be  highly  desirable  and 
opportune  if  colleges,  institutes,  societies,  editors,  and  puldishers  should  exchange 
publications  in  any  way  luuching  upon  biblical  science  with  those  of  the 
Institute. 

Information  regarding  su!iscri])tions  to  publications  of  the  Institute  or  any 
phase  of  its  work  will  be  piililishod  from  time  to  time  in  the  Acta,  on  sale  at 
Bretschneider's,  Via  del  Tritone  GO, 


NOTES  FROM  ROME 

The  excavations  of  the  Roman  Forum  have  reached  the  point  where 
Btands  the  present  church  of  Sant'  Adriano.  This  has  been  constructed 
out  of  thf"  remains  of  the  ancient  Curia  lulia,  the  Senate  House  of  Rome. 
In  the  near  future  thi.s  nmst  important  ruin  is  to  be  divested  of  the  accre- 
tions of  the  centuries  and  be  restored  as  a  monument  of  the  ancient  city. 

All  lovers  of  the  poet  Horace  will  be  glad  to  learn  that  the  Italian 
Minister  of  Public  Instruction  has  ordered  excavations  made  to  uncover 
the  Sabine  villa,  which  has  been  for  some  time  quite  definitely  located  at 
the  foot  of  Mount  Campanile,  the  Lucretilis  of  soug.  The  fountain  of 
Bandusda,  rendered  Immortal  by  the  poet's  beautiful  words,  cxiste  to-day 
almost  exactly  as  it  may  have  been  two  thousand  years  ago,  lacking  only 
the  oak  overhanging  the  cool  waters. 


jplO]  Foreign  Outlook  313 


FOREIGN  OUTLOOK 


NEV.Ti;ST  ASPECTS  OF  THE  STUDY  OF  THE  HISTORY  OF  DOGMA 

In  the  years  1SS6-90  Ado]];  Harnack  (as  professor  at  Giessen,  tlicn  at 
Marburg,  and  finaHy  at  Berlin)  published  the  first  edition  of  his  famous 
and  epoch-maliing  Lclirbuch  der  Dogmengcsclnchtc  (third  edition,  1894-97; 
Englieh  translation,  History  of  Dogmas,  in  7  vols.).  It  v/iU  scarcely  bo 
quofitloncd  that  this  is  the  most  significant  and  influential  work  of  the 
last  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  in  the  field  of  church  history;  and  there 
Is  but  one  vrork  of  that  period  In  the  whole  wide  range  of  the  history  of 
religion  that  has  exceeded  it  in  influence,  namely,  V/ollhau3cn's  Hir^tory 
of  Israel.  It  is,  therefore,  no  wonder  that  the  announcement  (in  1908)  of 
a  forthcoming  now  edition  of  the  great  work  wns  received  with  the  liveliest 
interest.  Of  this  edition  two  volumes  have  already  been  issued,  and  the 
third  and  last  may  Iw  expected  soon.  Both  in  matter  and  form  the  work 
— already  bo  admirable — 'is  much  improved.  That  an  investigator  of  Har- 
nack's  powers,  In  spite  of  his  other  great  labors,  must,  in  the  interval  of 
a  dozen  years  or  more,  have  penetrated  much  more  deeply  into  his  subject, 
and  must  have  brought  to  light  new  treasures,  was  confidently  to  be 
expected.  In  respect  of  form,  however,  the  alteration  has  been  less  than 
many  had  expected  and  desired.  Harnack  himself  had  expressed  his  dis- 
satisfaction with  the  multitude  of  footnotes,  though  he  justified  them  as 
neccr,eary  and  inevitable.  "Let  the  in  many  respects  clumsy  form  of  this 
book  remain  so  long  as  it  represents  the  difficulties  v.-ith  which  the  study 
ifi  Btill  oppressed."  And  so  the  hoped-for  radical  transformation  of  the 
book  wan  not  undertaken.  The  tim.c  for  this  seeins  not  yet  ripe.  Nevor- 
thelesB,  the  work  in  its  nev,^  form  is  distinctly  better  balanced  and  rounded 
than  in  the  former  editions.  Harnack's  style  is  too  luminous  and  plastic 
to  be  rendered  Ineffective  by  any  number  of  footnotes. 

In  1889  Harnack's  distinguished  pupil.  Loots,  published  the  first 
edition  of  his  Leitfaden  ziim  SiucUum  der  Dogmenge&chichte,  which,  though 
designed  primarily  as  a  basis  for  his  lectures,  showed  even  in  Its  earliest 
form  a  considerable  amount  of  independent  research.  The  third  edition 
of  the  Leitfaden  appeared  in  1893,  comprising  500  pages  and  numbering 
4,000  copies.  The  fourth  edition  of  1900  comprises  more  than  1,000  pages, 
and  Ls  In  evr-ry  way  a  niagnifu'ent  work.  Great  as  is  his  debt  to  Harnack 
—a  debt,  by  the  v/ay,  always  amply  and  gladly  ackuov.-ledged— Loofs  has 
shown  himself,  not  only  in  this  book  but  also  in  important  special  studies 
in  the  Banie  field,  to  be  an  independent  investigator  of  the  very  first  rank. 
It  \H  probable  that  his  studies  have  done  more  in  the  last  fifteen  years  to 
extend  tho  range  of  knowledge  of  the  history  of  dogma  than  those  of  any 
other  man.    Especially  noteworthy  is  his  work  entitled  Ne.storlana  (1905), 


3H  Methodist  Beview  [March 

but  also  his  remarkable  articles  in  Hauck's  BealencyclopMic    (such  as 
those  on  Christology,   the  Lord's  Supper,  Augustine,  Pclagius,  etc.).     In 
1895-98  Reinhold  Seeberg  (then  in  Erlangeu,  now  in  Berlin)  published  the 
first  edition  of  a  History  of  Dogma  in  two  volumes   (English  translation 
by  Hay).     In  1908  and  1910  have  appeared  the  first  two  volumes  of  an 
enlarged  and  greatly   improved  second  edition   of  this  work.     "While   in 
matters  of  historical  research  less  penetrating  and  fruitful  than  Harnack 
and  Loofs,  Seeberg  lias  great  merits  as  historian  of  dogma.     His  style  is 
warm  and  vivid,  hLs  grasp  of  the  factors  in  the  development  of  dogma  Is 
strong  and  firm,  his  statement  of  problems  is  clear.    Besides  this  it  is  of 
value  to  have  so  serious  and  able  a  presentation  of  a  view  of  the  origin 
and  development  of  dcgiua  so  widely  divergent  from   Haruack's.     Espe- 
cially in  his  view  of  the  beginnings  of  dogma,  Seeberg  has  weighty  con- 
siderations to  direct  against  the  position  of  Ilarnack.    The  immense  praise 
unanimously  accorded   Harnack   for   his   learning,   originality,    power   of 
combination  and  freshness  of  presentation,  and  especially  for  his  wonder- 
fully clear  conception  of  the  organic  unity  and  the  tenacity  of  Catholic 
dogma,  in  spite  of  all  variety  and  change,  has  not  been  given  without  a 
v-idespread  dissent  from  his  view  of  the  scope  of  the  term  "dogma."    Har- 
nack uses  the  word  "dogma"  in  the  narrowest  sense  as  a  doctrinal  state- 
ment definitely  formulated  and  expressly  sanctioned  by  the  church  as  the 
full,  adequate,  and  indispensably  necessary  expression  of  the  faith.    In  this 
restricted  sense  dogma  can  properly  exist  only  on  the  ground  of  Catholi- 
cism.    And,  indeed,  Harnack  consistently  adheres  to  this  definition,  and 
accordingly  follows  the  Greek  development  until  the  dogmatic  "petrefac- 
tion"  in  TS7,  and  the  Roman  Catholic  development  up  to  the  present;    but 
he  touches  Protestantism  only  so  far  as  to  set  forth  "the  original  position 
of  the  reformers,  subject,  as  it  was,  to  contradictions,  in  relation  to  church 
doctrine."    Evangelical  "statements  of  the  faith"  may,  he  admits,  be  called 
dogmas  in  the  icider  sense;    but  his  book  "pertains  not  to  the  universal 
genuB  dogma,  but  to  the  species,  namely,  to  the  specific  dogma,  as  it  took 
shape  on  the  soil  of  the  ancient  world  and,  even  if  with  modifications,  is 
still  a  power."     This  very  restricted  use  of  the  word  "dogma"  Loofs  and 
Seeberg  have  not  accepted.    For  Loofs  "dogmas  are  those  statements  of  the 
faith  the  acknowledgment  of  which  an  ecclesiastical  communion  expressly 
requires  of  its  members,  or  at  least  of  its  teachers."    Dogma  is,  accordingly, 
"churchly-authoritative    doctrine."      Loofs,    however,    explains    that    "the 
'dogma'  docs  not  need  in  every  instance  to  be  fixed  by  synods  or  by  means 
of  Bymbols   (creeds);    its  authority  can  be  otherwise  conditioned."     Evi- 
dently, this  definition  is  broad  enough  to  be  applicable  to  the  expressly 
sanctioned  doctrines  of  the  Protestant  churches.     The  Protestant  concep- 
tion of  the  nature  of  faitli  necessarily  excludes  all  thought  of  identifylnc: 
dogma  with  faith;    yet,  of  course,  there  are  doctrinal  statements  which  are 
expressly  sanctioned  by  the  Protestant  churches,  and  so  have  normative 
autliority  in  the  same.    In  this  view  of  dogma  Seeberg  is  in  full  agreement 
with  Loofs.     "Not  all  theological  statements  are  dogmas,  but  only  ."^uch  as 
have  become  church  statements."   But  In  1895  Kriiger,  and  in  189S  Stange. 
jittacked  even  this  less  restricted  use  of  the  term  as  being  still  too  re- 


19)0]  Foreign  Outlook  315 

strJcted.  Stange  insisted  that  the  express  sanction  of  p.  church  is  not 
necessary  to  the  constitutioii  of  a  dogma.  There  are  conimunious  which 
doiirecatc  the  formation  of  any  and  all  dogmas  and  yet  are  clearly  under 
the  sway  of  the  most  specific  doctrinal  conceptions.  For  Stange  the 
essential  thing  in  dogma  is  its  acival  normative  force  in  a  religious  com- 
munion. And  the  term  "communion"  may  here  be  taken  so  broadly  as  to 
Include  not  only  all  definitely  organized  churches,  but  also  all  those  special 
foruis  of  fellowship— it  may  be  within  the  bounds  of  an  organized  church 
—which,  perhaps  with  little  or  no  technical  organization,  are  united  by 
common  religious  principles  and  purposes.  In  1S99  August  Dorncr  (son 
of  I.  A.  Dorner)  published  an  Outline  of  the  History  of  Dogma,  in  which 
he  conceived  his  task  as  the  "history  of  Christian  ideas"  {des  christlichen 
i:rkc.vnens)—aii  extremely  idealistic  view,  with  more  than  a  touch  of 
Hegeliauism. 

Loofs's  and  Seeberg's  definition  of  dogma  clearly  extends  its  scope  so 
as  to  Include  the  Geld  of  Protestantism.  But  inasmuch  as  they  conceive  of 
dogma  as  established  only  by  a  church's  express  sanction,  they  seem  forced 
to  close  their  account  of  the  dogmatic  development  of  the  Reformed 
churches  with  the  Formula  Consensus  Helvetica  (1G75),  and  of  that  of  the 
Lutheran  church  with  the  Formula  of  Concord  (15S0),  while,  of  course, 
the  dogmatic  development  of  Roman  Catholicism  must  be  followed  down 
to  tlic  close  of  the  Vatican  Council  in  1870.  V\'hnt  inferences  are  to  be 
diawn  from  such  a  view  of  dogmatic  history?  Shall  we  conclude  that 
iilucc  ]r,SO  or  1G75  the  Protestant  churches  have  experiencetl  no  dogmatic 
lie volopment— have  in  this  respect  been  at  a  standstill?  Or  are  we  to 
conclude  that  the  unquestionably  actual  doctrinal  development  in  these 
centuries  has  been  quite  •'undogmatic"  in  its  nature?  The  protest  sug- 
gested by  the^e  inquiries  has  recently  found  very  vigorous  and  effective 
expression  from  an  unexpected  quarter.  In  essential  agreement  with  the 
dfrtnition  of  dogma  as  given  by  Kriiger  and  Stange,  Otto  Ritschl,  pro- 
f'ASSor  of  systematic  theology-  at  Bonn,  son  and  pupil  of  Albrecht  Ritschl, 
and  pupil  of  Harnack,  has  published  (190S)  the  first  volume  of  an  ami)le 
O'lprn'-iit/cschichtc  des  Protcsiantismvs.  In  it  we  find  exhibited  not  only 
a  thorough  independence  of  mind  (as  shown  in  his  breaking  away  from 
ih.>  .'Standpoint  to  which  his  training  might  have  bound  him— the  book, 
nevertheless,  being  dedicated  to  Harnack:  in  alter  Dankharl:eit  c/cwidmcl). 
hut  also  a  wealth  of  interest  in  the  matter  presented.  For  Ritschl  brings 
many  things  to  light  that  had  been  forgotten  or  disregarded,  and  sets 
aright  many  things  that  had  been  generally  misunderstood.  The  present 
Cir.si)  volume,  after  the  weighty  and  interesting  "Prolegomena"  of  51 
J'jiR*^!^.  deals  with  "Biblicism  and  Traditionalism  in  the  Old-Protc^stant 
1  hc-ology."  Pcrhajxs  the  most  remarkable  feature  of  the  book  is  the  uuex- 
jH'ciod  cordial  appreciation  of  the  fathers  of  Lutheran  orthodoxy.  This 
from  a  d..'Cide'JIy  "modern"  theologian  is  indeed  noteworthy.  But  it  is  not 
d.'.-!iin<'d  here  to  review  the  book,  but  only  to  indicate  its  general  char- 
.'ict/jr  and  its  prol-able  signiJicance  for  the  furtlur  development  of  historical 
and  theological  science.  The  work  is  the  fruit  of  long  and  patient  research 
Mid  Uiought.  and  is  sure  to  provoke  earnest  discussion  and  study. 


33G  Methodist  Review  [March 

A  PROFESSORSHIP  AND  A  COMMISSION  FOR  APOLOGETICS 

About  a  year  ago  a  ucw  extraordinary  professorship  for  apologetics 
was  created  at  Leipzig,  and  A.  W.  Hunzinger  (born  1871)  -^-as  appointed 
to  fill  tliG  chair.  This  is  the  first  time  In  the  history  of  German 
Protebtant  theological  faculties  that  this  subdivision  of  svj-tematie  theolo{r>' 
has  had  a  chair  devoted  specially  to  It.  Hunzinger  has  lately  been  attract- 
ing no  little  attention  to  hi.s  program.  At  the  twelfth  General  Evangelical 
Lutheran  Conference,  in  Hanover  (September  14-17.  1908),  he  delivered  an 
address  on  "Our  Apologetic  Task,"  which  was  received  v^ith  the  greatest 
enthusiasm.  The  speaker  expressed  the  belief  that  a  new  apologetic  age 
was  about  to  dav.n.  The  faith  does  not  need  to  be  rescued,  but  there  is 
danger  that  people  will  lose  their  foothold.  The  church  can  be  a  true 
church  of  the  people  only  as  she  is  the  strongest  of  all  powers  to  produce 
or  confirm  a  right  vlevr  of  the  universe.  The  chief  task  will  be  to  bring 
this  power  that  is  in  Christianity  so  fully  to  expre.si;iou  in  the  intellectual 
life  of  the  present,  that  German  Christian  idealism  shall  awake  and  shake 
off  naturalism  that  now  lies  like  an  Alp  on  the  people.  The  way  to  this 
end  he  then  sketched,  ending  with  the  thought  that  the  church  must 
provide  men  and  organs  specially  fitted  for  and  devoted  to  the  task  of 
apologetics.  From  the  beginning  to  the  end  Hunzinger  carried  the  great 
conference  with  him. 

In  accordance  with  the  proposal  of  the  speaker  the  Conference  deter- 
mined to  establish  an  Apologetic  Commission.  Five  men — two  university 
professors,  two  pastors,  one  gymnasium  professor — compose  the  coramis- 
Bion,  which  will  have  its  seat  in  Leipzig.  The  object  in  view  is  to  organize 
a  bureau  of  information,  especially  to  serve  the  needs  of  teachers,  and  a 
system  of  lectures  in  the  principal  cities  and  towns  throughout  the  country. 
It  is  the  intention  also  to  establish  an  apologetic  library.  The  whole 
movement,  of  course,  will  bo  carried  on  in  general  agreement  with  the 
Etandpoint  of  the  Conference,  that  is,  Lutheran  orthodoxy. 


19 !0]  Glimpses  of  Bcvicivs  and  Magazines  317 


GMMPSES  or  REVIEWS  AND  MAGAZINES' 

TuK  Hibbort  Journal  for  Jimuory  might  almost  be  called  a  Tyvroll 
number,  80  much  simce  is  given  to  Father  George  Tyrrell,  the  Jesuit  p"'ie=t, 
u  bv-ider  of  the  "liberals"  iu  the  Roman  Church,  protesting  againet  Papal 
tyranny,  and  inf;istiug  on  freedom,  of  thought  and  of  scholarship,  especially 
In  biblical  criticism  and  comparative  religion,  the  apostle  of  modernism  in 
the  Papal  Church.  In  the  first  January  article  Baron  F.  von  Hugel  presents 
eonie  nremorials  of  the  last  twelve  years  of  Father  Tyrrell's  life;  and  in 
the  second  article,  the  Rev.  C.  L\  Osborne  gives  his  personal  Impres.sions 
as  an  intimate  friend.  In  addition  to  these  articles,  the  first  review  in  the 
department  of  Book  Notices  is  of  Father  Tyrrell's  last  book,  now  so  much 
discussed,  entitled  Christianity  at  the  Cross-lioads.  the  deepest  and  most 
characteristic  of  all  his  writings.  The  picture  given  us  of  Father  Tyrrell 
by  his  two  friends  is  of  an  impressive  and  engaging  character:  An  Irish- 
man, with  the  Celtic  wit  and  tenderness  of  heart  and  subtle  grace  of 
Imagination,  tho  flre  and  glow  and  surge  of  soul,  the  sentiment  and  gayety 
of  the  Gaelic  blood;  a  man  also  cf  quiet  and  lonely  courage,  reared  in  an 
almospbere  of  plain  living  and  high  thinking,  disciplined  by  a  frugal  and 
ftrenuous  mode  of  existence  to  simpliciiy,  self-control  and  careful  steward- 
ship or  time  and  of  all  other  resources;  a  man  of  deep  religiousness  and 
delicate  spirituality,  incurably  spiritual,  heroic,  and  amazingly  fursighted. 
To  Protestants  Father  George  Tyrrell  has  seemed  recently  the  most  up- 
lifted, gallant  and  prophetic  figure  la  the  Rom.au  Church,  making  in  the 
name  of  freedom  his  passionate  protest  against  the  absoluteness  of  the 
I'apal  power,  which  he  considered  the  greatest  obstacle  to  the  progress  of 
Hoinanlsm  among  the  civilized  nations  of  the  vrorld.  He  demanded  that 
this  autocratic  exercise  of  unlimited  authority  should  be  checked  and 
liiullc'd.  He  complained  that  this  arbitrary  power  transgresses  the  rights 
of  the  individual  mind  and  conscience,  transgresses  <he  rights  of  science 
and  learning  and  the  rights  of  the  State.  He  provoked  the  bitter  dis- 
pleagiire  of  the  Vatican  by  speaking  out  fearlessly  and  vehemently  against 
the  ever-Increasing  centralization  and  absolutism  of  the  Papal  authority. 
This  Irish  Romanist  felt,  with  Lord  Acton,  that  "the  very  principle  of 
i;iir;!montanism  is  profoundly  unchristian  and  immoral."  R.  F.  Horton 
I'  lib  us  that  Huxley  went  one  day  to  dine  with  William  George  Ward,  the 
tyi)ical  KupllGli  Romanist  of  the  modern  Romanist  reaction.  He  stepped 
lo  tho  window  and  peered  out  of  it.  Ward  asked  him  what  he  was  doing. 
"l  wah  looking,"  said  Huxley,  "in  your  garden  for  the  stake.  Dr.  Ward, 
»hk-h  1  fiiippo.<f;  you  have  got  ready  for  us  after  dinner."  It  was  not  a 
jok(?  Ward's  relentless  Romish  logic  was  prepared  for  iiersecutiou,  if  it 
should  again  become  jiossible  or  expedient.  Huxley  was  more  religious 
thRii  Ward.  From  his  bracing  air  of  exact  inquiry  and  fearless  acceptance 
of  (ruth  tlie  noul  can  easily  pass  into  true  religion.  But  from  Ward's 
«tJflinc  atmoBphoro  of  Romish  authority  and  coercion  tho  soul  can  only 


318  Methodist  Bevicw  [Marcli 

sink  enervated  Into  modern  Mariolatry  and  worship  of  the  Pope.  T>-rrell 
loved  the  word  "Catholic'" — he  said  it  was  as  music  to  his  ears;  it  brought 
the  whole  orhis  tcrraritni  before  his  eyes — the  world  which  was  embraced  lu 
Christ's  outstretched  arms  upon  the  cross.  So  do  we  love  the  word  "cath- 
olic"; and  in  the  Apostles'  Creed  we  declare  our  belief  in  the  holy  catholic 
church.  But  the  Roman  Church  is  not  the  catholic  church.  It  has  no  moral 
right  to  arrogate  to  itself  that  name.  Its  proper  title  is  "the  Roman 
Church,"  or  a  yet  juore  accurately  descriptive  title  would  be  "the  Papal 
Church."  To  give  it  that  n.ime  is  both  fair  and  fit.  The  declaralions  of  this 
great  Jesuit,  who  made  himself  the  champion  of  freedom  under  a  hierar- 
chical despotism,  and  v.'ho  fearlessly  characterized  the  Papal  power  as  it  de- 
Berves,  warrant  snd  sustain  our  contention  that  the  Roman  Church  is  not 
"catholic,"  and  has  no  moral  right  to  api)ropriate  that  name.  The  claim 
implied  in  calling  itself  "the  Catholic  Church"  is  foundationless  and  false. 
"Catholic"  means  "universal,"  and  the  Roman  Church  is  rot  the  church 
universal;  it  is  at  best  only  a  part — and  by  no  means  the  best  part — of 
the  Universal  Church  of  Jesus  Christ,  which  is  made  up  of  all  true  Chris- 
tians under  whatever  name.  The  impudence  of  a  part  v/hich  calls  itself 
the  whole  is  glaring  and  intolerable.  By  all  outside  of  its  communion  it 
should  be  called  the  Papal  Church.  This  is  accurate,  for  it  is  the  one 
church  that  has  a  Pope;  that  is  its  distinctive  peculiarity.  And  because 
it  is  the  Papal  Church,  ruled  by  the  Pope  of  Rome,  a  foreign  potentate. 
it  is  in  America  a  foreign  body  with  heaquarters  on  the  Tiber;  standing 
among  us  as  the  one  un-American  church  in  our  land.  And  its  leaders  in 
this  country  are  boasting  that  they  "have  Romanized  America"!  Their 
so-called  Catholicism  is  Romanized  Christianity.  Is  it  really  true  that 
American  Christendom  has  been  made,  or  is  to  be  made,  a  dependency 
of  the  Vatican?  What  have  the  great  and  mighty  Protestant  bodies  to 
Bay  to  such  daring  claims  and  avowed  purposes?  We  are  glad  to  have 
Father  Tyrrell's  testimony.  Tyrrell  had  no  sympathy  with  the  Romanizing 
wing  of  the  Anglican  Church.  He  called  them  the  "Anglican  Ultramon- 
tanes"  and  said  that  they  merely  succeeded  in  reproducing  Rome's  mis- 
takes without  her  logic.  In  the  same  number  of  the  Hibbert  Dr.  P.  T. 
Forsyth  says:  "The  Pajiacy  is  a  heresy.  It  is  quite  impos-sible  that  it 
should  live  in  the  same  house  with  evangelical  faith.  To  make  the  Pope 
the  vicar  of  Christ  is  heretical."  We  will  add  that  it  is  a  blasphemous 
pretense  and  fraud.  On  an  erroneous  exegesis  of  an  ambiguous  text  in 
Matthew  xvi,  Rome  has  reared  the  stupendous  depotism  of  the  Papacy. 
Father  Tyrrell,  the  Itader  of  the  Modernists,  held  that  Christianity  must 
bo  before  all  things  evangelical.  He  had  no  patience  with  the  merely 
ethical  conception  according  to  which  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  but  the  drawer 
aside  of  a  curtain,  the  removal  of  which  leaves  face  to  face  "God  and  my 
Boul,  my  soul  and  God."  For  him  the  divine  Personality  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  not  his  ethic  merely,  was   the   supreme  and   central   feature  of  the 

Christian    religion.- Two    of    the    articles    in    the    January    Hibbert 

contrast  self-assertion  in  Nietzsche  with  self-surrender  in  Bochme. 
From  the  former  we  quote  the  following:  "Nictzsche'B  attack  upon 
religion    and    morality    is    well    worthy    of    serious    consideration.      Wo 


]010]  Glimppcs  of  licviervs  and  Magazin-es  319 

nuist  endeavor  to  apprerinte  his  point  of  view.  Ho  looked  out  upon 
the  world,  aud  did  uot,  lil;e  Saint  Paul  and  the  fathers  of  the  church,  find 
human  hoings  riotiug  in  an  exuberance  of  wautonness,  but  found  them  for 
the  inoKt  part  tame,  mediocre,  undeveloped,  without  passion,  without  initia- 
tive, iucajiable  even  of  strenuous  wickedness.  The  modern  European  is, 
lie  says,  a  tame  house  animal.  It  is  from  this  point  of  view  that  he  attacks 
those  who  preach  self-sacrifice,  repression,  ascetic  ideals;  who  constantly 
harp  upon  sin  and  its  consequences,  and  who  encourage  feelings  of  re- 
morse, guilty  conscience,  self-laceration.  Our  moralists  impose  additional 
chains  upon  those  who  are  already  slaves.  As  opposed  to  these  nihilists, 
these  preachers  of  destruction,  of  the  negation  of  life,  he  teaches  that  men 
while  In  tliis  world  should  live  as  fully  and  abundantly  as  possible,  feel 
every  thrill  aiid  ecstasy,  discharge  their  strength;  that  life  is  power  and 
the  will  to  power;  everything  is  good  that  makes  for  power;  everything 
that  makes  for  weakness  is  bad.  As  the  crowd  seek  comfort  and  a  safe 
and  vegetable  existence,  the  strong  man  or  noble  man,  wlio  aims  at  fullness 
and  intensity  of  life  and  whose  goal  is  beyond  man,  must  scorn  the  virtues 
of  the  crowd  and  strike  out  his  own  plan  of  life.  The  crowd  will  look  upon 
him  as  a  wicked  person,  a  disturber  of  social  order,  and  will  endeavor  to 
supprefjs  him.  He  will,  therefore,  be  a  warrior  reveling  in  danger  and 
opposition,  welcoTuing  hardships,  rebuffs,  misfortunes,  as  they  give  him  the 
mastery  over  himself  and  over  circumstances;  fond  of  adventures,  tempta- 
tions, thrilling  experiences,  because  life  is  f-'hort  and  he  must  live  to  the 
utmost;  viewing  life  as  an  esthetic  spectacle;  fond  of  good  company  and 
oQually  fond  of  bad  company,  but  more  a  lover  of  solitude,  concealing 
beneath  a  gay  v/antonness  an  intense  seriousness;  in  the  sphere  of  action 
a  leader  of  men;  in  the  realm  of  thought,  not  a  scholar,  an  interpreter  of 
other  men's  ideas,  but  a  courageous  critic,  a  free  lance,  a  writer  at  first 
hand,  a  creator.  The  picture  so  far  is  a  fascinating  one;  but  It  must  at 
the  same  time  be  pointed  out  that  Nietzsche's  strong  man  is  an  egoist,  with 
a  lofty  contempt  for  the  crowd,  without  pity  for  the  weak,  who  treats 
women  not  hs  companions  but  as  dangerous  toys,  and  who  is  lacking  in  ;• 
KufTicient  sense  of  reverence,  of  duty,  and  of  discipline.  In  other  words, 
there  Ih  in  his  strong  man  a  good  deal  of  blatant  weakness.  His  strong 
man  will  be  able  neither  to  command  nor  to  obey;  he  will  become  a  crim- 
inal or  a  lunatic  unless  his  supermorality  comprehends,  while  it  rises 
hf:yond,  the  morality  of  the  crowd.  Fullness  and  Intensity  of  life  arc 
jjorKl.  but  there  must  be  barriers  and  limitations,  the  life  must  flow  in  well- 
rc^latcd  channels.  The  more  intense  each  passion  and  desire,  and  the 
more  Intense  the  'will-to-power,'  the  more  intense  must  be  the  feelings  of 
fSoty  and  discipline.  Love  of  danger  and  adventure  is  excellent  if  balanced 
by  a  corrcsiMinding  prudence.  An  enliglitencd  egoism  must  include 
Mjnio  degree  of  solf-sacritice  and  submission  to  the  will  of  tlie  community. 
Niiti.'irhc'B  own  overweening  egoism  was  probably  one  of  the  contribu- 
?.>ry  caiiRr;^  of  his  madness.  One  cannot  with  impunity  attack  what 
lU'-'n  have  hitherto  held  sacred;  rules  and  conventions  that  have  been 
(  voItchI  through  centurien  of  experi.?nce  must  be  reverenccjd,  though  they 
v.nuit  he  modified   with  changing  circumstances." From  the  article 


320  Methodist  Ticview  [MnrcH 

on  Boehme  we  take  the  following:  "Pliilosophy  does  not  exist  for  its  own 
eake,  but  for  the  Biike  of  producing  risht  conditions,  and  setting  men  on 
the  right  road.  We  should  seek  the  true  only  to  attain  the  good. 
Boehine's  philosophy — apparently  the  most  abstro.ct  of  all — Is  of  all  the 
most  practical.  From  if  1  learn  to  avoid  mistakes  into  which  ignorance 
and  inexperience  naturally  fall;  and  not  only  to  know  that  they  are  mis- 
takes but  also  to  see  exactly  why  they  are  such.  Righteousness  and  sin 
remain  as  much  as  ever  the  eternal  choice  for  man;  but  no  longer 
because  of  the  arbitrary  command  of  a  Being  who  can  punish  rae  if  I  do 
not  obey.  I  am  shown  the  inward  reason  from  a  point  as  near  to  the 
divine  as  is  possible  to  a  creature  of  imperfect  faculty.  I  see  the  grand, 
divine  Order,  that  things  should  be  rather  than  seem;  and  understand  the 
natural  temptation  to  a  limited  creature  to  prefer  above  all  things  to  seem, 
to  get  credit  for  his  little  gifts  and  graces  among  those — his  fellows — who 
for  the  present  see  only  the  surface,  whereby  we  feel  inclined  to  have  what- 
ever we  pride  ourselves  on,  upon  the  surface  and  think  it  of  small  value 
if  it  is  not  seen  of  all  men.  I  see  that  the  nature  thus  qualiQed  must  be 
a  surface  nature,  two-dimensional  iiistead  of  three;  and  that  it  gives  rise 
to  a  world  where  surface  considerations  v.-eigh  alone,  and  men  prefer  to 
be  reputed  to  have  vrithout  having,  rather  than  to  have  v/ithout  being 
reputed  to  have.  Tlius  I  understand  the  false  glory  of  this  world  and  its 
cure.  This  is  not  so  much  to  give  up  the  desire  to  be  great,  as  to  give  up 
the  desire  for  an  inferior  sort  of  greatness  which  stands  in  pretense 
rather  thdn  in  actuality.  I  see  that  sin  is  only  the  will  of  a  being  hostile 
to  God  because  it  is  the  will  of  a  being  who  preferred  the  false  to  the  true, 
the  apparent  to  the  real,  the  being  thought  great  to  actually  being  great 
in  the  sight  of  those- who  can  see  all  that  is  there.  I  see  that  this  pre- 
tentious greatness  is  a  thin  surface  over  a  hollow  void,  a  bubble  that  must 
sooner  or  later  burst,  and — having  no  solidity — vanish.  It  is  this  love 
of  estimation  rather  thrm  reality  that  I  must  straightway  put  into  the 
hiddenness;  and  that  the  way  to  do  this  is  to  bring  out  of  the  hiddenness 
in  myself  its  contrary,  the  feeling  that  virtue  is  its  own  rev,-ard,  that  to  be 
really  great  from  center  to  circumference  is  far  greater  than  to  be 
applauded  by  all  the  blind  of  this  world  for  what  I  only  seem  to  be  on  the 
circumference.  And  his  is  a  most  helpful  perfection.  For  often  1  am 
perplexed  how  to  operate  to  my  self-amendment.  Now  I  know  that  I  have 
the  right  thing  in  me.  only  ic  is  yet  hidden.  I  have  no  need  to  go  far  and 
wide — up  to  heaven,  or  over  the  sea — to  find  what  I  ought  to  have,  for  it  is 
nigh,  in  my  heart,  and  only  needs  to  be  discovered  and  brought  to  the 
surface.  Yvhat  benefit  to  the  beggar  to  dream  that  he  is  a  king  and  sur- 
rounded by  applauding  crowds?  It  only  makes  him  'cry  to  dream  again," 
Avhich  means  that  he  does  not  believe  that  he  can  be  equally  happy  in  real 
life.  Yet  this  is  a  delusion:  real  life  must  have  greater  possibilities  than 
any  delusive  dream;  only  the  good  things  of  the  real  cannot  be  gained  by 
lying  down  and  going  to  sleep,  but  only  by  effort  and  earnestness  as  real 
as  the  things  desired.  Many  could  give  us  the  conclusions  here  reached. 
The  value  of  Bochme  is  not  in  the  conclusions  he  sets  forth,  but  in  the  fact 
that  he  sees  and  indicates  the  premises  on  which  the  conclusions  rest." 


rjlO]  Booh  Notices  321 


BOOK   NOTICES 


RELIGION.      THEOLOGY,     AND     BIBLICAL     LITERATURE 

W'h-zl  ia  Christianil>/T  A  Series  of  Lectures  Delivered  in  the  Centra!  IIs.Il  Manchester  Eng- 
land Two  volumes.  12mo.  pp.  356.  319.  Ciucinnali:  Jennings  (k  Graham.  New  York: 
Eaton  &  Mains      Price,  cloth.  52.50. 

The  general  theme  of  Vol.  I  is  Christian  Doctrine,  and  of  Vol.  II 
Christian  Life.  The  lectures  are  practical,  dealing  plainly  with  religious 
subjecus  and  questions  in  a  way  suited  tc  the  miscellaneous  audiences 
to  whom  they  were  spoken.  A  sample  is  this  on  Conversion:  "The  experi- 
ence of  conversion  varies  in  different  people.  The  types  are  as  varied  as 
human  temperament.  With  some  it  is  sudden,  convulsive,  and  exciting; 
with  others  it  is  gradual,  gentle,  and  almost  imperceptible.  In  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles  the  most  startling  contrasts  are  placed  side  by  side  that 
we  may  be  preserved  from  the  tyranny  of  any  one  type.  Saul  of  Tarsus, 
with  the  supernatural  accompaniments  of  light,  visions,  and  healing,  is 
balanced  by  the  Echopian  eunuch,  who  was  converted  as  he  rode  home 
reading  his  Bible.  The  conversion  of  Lydia,  whose  heart  the  Lord  opened. 
Is  placed  alongside  that  of  the  Philippian  jailer,  Avith  its  earthquake 
terror  and  tragedy.  There  are  twelve  gates  into  the  city,  and  they  all 
lead  to  the  one  throne.  It  is  the  throne  that  matters.  They  come  from 
all  points  of  the  compass  and  in  every  variety  of  way,  but  the  one  thing 
common  to  them  all  is  that  they  come  to  God  and  surrender  to  his  will. 
That  is  the  essential  thing,  that  every  man  turn  away  from  iniquity  and 
from  his  own  way  to  serve  the  living  God.  Whether  we  turn  with  tears 
or  with  dry  eyes  does  not  matter,  if  v/e  turn.  Convulsion  is  no  neces- 
sary part  of  conversion,  but  consent  to  the  will  of  God  is  as  its  very  soul. 
There  is  in  one  of  the  American  cities  an  honored  citizen  who  was  for 
many  years  a  notorious  gambler.  One  Sunday  morning  he  stepped  out  of 
the  hotel,  leaving  his  companions  stripped  of  everything  that  could  be 
Btaked  upon  the  play.  His  pockets  were  full  of.  money  and  I  O  U's.  As 
ho  walked  down  the  street  in  the  calm  and  sunshine  of  a  Sabbath  morn- 
Im;.  he  suddenly  loathed  himself  and  the  life  he  lived.  lie  said  half- 
aloud.  'I'll  quit.'  No  one  had  cared  for  his  soul  except  a  young  girl  in 
her  teens,  and  he  went  to  the  girl's  home  to  tell  her  he  would  be  at 
church  that  evening.  Her  father  rebuked  him,  and  charged  him  with 
having  been  playing  poker  all  night.  'I  have.'  he  said.  'I  am  on  my  way 
honjo  now.  and  this  is  my  night's  winnings,  but  I've  quit.  All  this  money 
I  will  return,  and  come  to  ser\ice  this  evening.'  He  went  to  service. 
End  sal  by  the  child  who  had  prayed  for  his  soul.  At  tlic  close  of  the 
sermon  he  rose  and  said,  'I  wish  to  say  that,  in  God's  name,  I've  quit.' 
Kroui  that  day  he  ha.«  been  a  God-fearing  man.  Never  mind  your  feelings. 
Qirr!"  In  th?  .stylu  and  matter  of  tlic  lectures  tliere  is  wide  variety, 
since  they  are  by  a  great  variety  of  men.  all  trying  to  put  the  truth  home 
<o  the  plain  wayfaring  man.     One  of  the  aptest  and  most  telling  is  by 


322  Methodis{  Bevietv  [March 

Rev.  S.  F.  Collier,  v.-ho  knows  his  Central  Hall  audience  and  knows  what 
he  is  about.  The  subject  of  it  is  "The  Miracle  of  Changed  Lives."  lie 
confronts  Blatchford,  the  editor  of  the  Clarion,  with  his  own  words 
written  once  in  reply  to  the  statement  that  nothing  has  come  of  Chris- 
tianity. To  that  prei)osterous  falsehood,  even  Blatchford  had  to  answer: 
"Has  nothing  come  of  it?  But  almost  every  noble  action  and  sweet  per- 
sonality in  all  those  nineteen  centuries  has  come  of  it.  A  very  great 
deal  of  our  progress  has  come  of  it.  All  the  mercy  and  patience  we  have 
in  the  present,  and  all  the  hope  we  have  in  the  future,  ba,s  come  of  it. 
Moreover,  let  us  remember  that  the  very  fact  that  the  gospel  of  love  has 
lived  for  so  many  centuries  against  long  odds  and  bitter  opposition  is  a 
proof  of  its  vitality  and  truth."  Mr.  Collier  says  this:  "Jesus  Christ 
came  to  save  the  lost.  I  remember  a  well-known  and  earnest  social  re- 
former saying  to  me,  'It  v.;  no  use  attempting  to  deal  with  certain  portions 
of  the  community.  They  are  irredeemable.  It  is  waste  time,  strength, 
and  money.'  Then,  after  a  pause,  he  said,  *I  know.  Collier,  you  don't 
believe  that — you  think  there  is  a  chance  for  every  man.'  I  replied,  'Of 
course  I  do.  That  is  the  glory  of  the  gospel  I  preach.  Your  gospel  of 
humanity  is  a  gospel  full  of  limitations  and  ever  must  be;  the  gospel  of 
Christ  is  as  v.ide  and  efiective  as  the  "Whosoever"  of  its  invitation.'  We 
claim  that  Christiauity  holds  the  field  against  ail  systems  of  philanthropy 
and  religion.  Other  lecturers  have  dealt  in  masterly  and  effective  mannr r 
with  the  'Evidences'  for  the  truth  of  Christianity.  To-day  we  bring 
forward  what  must  ever  be  the  decisive  argument.  There  is  no  lack  of 
testimony.  In  all  clasaes,  in  all  ranks,  in  all  countries,  men  and  women 
have  borne  and  still  bear  their  testimony  to  their  faith  that  Christ,  and 
Christ  alone,  is  their  Saviour.  It  would  he  easy  to  call  as  witnesses  a 
vast  array  of  men  and  women  of  the  keenest  intellects  and  v.  idest  experi- 
ence— leading  scientists,  foremost  statesmen,  eminent  philosophers,  great 
scholars,  most  successful  business  men,  labor  leaders,  all  bearing  the 
same  testimony  to  the  truth  and  power  of  Christianity.  But  we  need 
not  go  beyond  our  own  city;  we  need  not  step  out  of  this  iiall.  Here 
men  and  women  who  have  been  the  despair  of  their  friend.s  have  been 
restored  to  nobility  of  character;  men  and  women  who  have  been  most 
hopeless  about  themselves  have  found  abundant  hope  in  Christ."  Rev. 
J.  Lev.-is  Baton,  in  a  lecture  on  'Christ  and  Our  Bleasures,"  says:  "Not 
even  in  the  darkest  hour  does  joy  desert  the  Christian,  if  he  has  first 
given  himself  to  God.  God  gives  him  all  things  richly  to  enjoy,  because 
he  has  first  given  him  a  gift  the  worldling  refuses  to  accept — himself. 
What  gladder  pa'an  of  triumph  was  ever  written  than  Paul  wrote  when 
held  in  Nero's  grip  in  the  Roman  prison? — it  is  his  first  and  his  last 
word  to  the  Philippians,  'Rejoice,  and  again  I  say  rejoice,'  To  bear  pain 
for  the  sake  of  Christ,  to  suffer  rather  than  surrender  truth,  or  in  order 
to  save  another;  to  take  a  blow  that  was  meant  for  another  in  order  to 
shield  that  other;  to  drudge,  to  serve,  to  give  up  that  we  may  be  fellow- 
workers  with  God  himself  in  the  saving  of  our  fellows;  to  do  all  thi.^ 
is  joy  because  it  is  Love;  and  love,  the  death  of  self,  is  the  real  life  of 
man,  because  it  is  the  life  of  God   himself.     It  is  a  great  truth,  and  it 


lOJOJ  Booh  Noiices  323 

must  bo  learned  in  the  fire."  And  then  he  quotes  Hobert  Louis  Steven- 
/jou's  verse: 

Gome  well  or  ill,  the  cross,  the  crown, 

The  rainbow  or  the  tliuuder, 

I  fling  nay  soul  aud  body  down 

For  God  to  plow  them  under. 

Purthcv  on  Mr.  Paton  says:  "Just  as  there  is  a  happiness  of  (!uty,  so,  I 
repeat,  there  is  a  duty  of  1iappi7iess.  If  Christians  are  to  Diake  the  world 
happier,  the  first  thing  for  theni  is  to  be  happy  themselves.  Happiness 
is  caught  by  contagion,  and,  strange  to  say,  the  ruan  who  has  brought 
this  lesson  home  to  his  day  and  generation  better  than  any  other  teacher 
Is  one  whose  whole  life  was  one  constant  struggle  against  pain  and  weak- 
ness, an  exile  from  the  land  he  loved  so  well.  Listen  to  I>ouis  Steven- 
son's evening  prayer: 

If  1  have  faltered  more  or  less 
In  my  great  task  of  happiness; 
If  I  have  moved  araon,?  my  race 
And  shown  no  gluriou.s  moriung  face; 
If  beams  from  happy  human  eyes 
Have  moved  me  not ;  if  morning  skies, 
Books,  and  my  food,  aud  summer  rain, 
Knocked  on  my  sullen  heart  in  vain, — 
Lord,  Thy  most  pointed  pleasure  take. 
And  stab  my  spirit  broad  awake." 

Coviparath'c  lieh'inon.     By  W   St  Clair  Tisdalu  D.D.     16mo,  pp   132.     New  York  :  L-onp;- 
mans,  Green  &  Co       Price,  cloth,  40  cents,  net 

Tins  is  one  of  the  series  of  Anglican  Church  Handbooks  edited  by 
W.  H.  Grilhth  Thomas,  D.D.  "We  have  already  commended  some  of  the 
volumes.  The  chapters  of  this  booJc  are  summed  up  in  conclusions 
which,  because  of  their  compactness,  we  quote  as  a  sample  of  the  whole. 
The  question  is,  What  difference  do  we  find  between  Christianity  and 
other  religions  which  justifies  us  in  holding  it  to  be  the  absolute  religion, 
and  distinct  not  only  in  degree  but  in  kind  from  every  ethnic  faith?  To 
this  the  author  makes  reply  as  follows:  "It  is  not  difficult  to  answer  this 
queBtlon.  Christianity  is  no  mere  system  of  ethics,  as  some  hold;  it  is  no 
confused  ma.s.s  of  dogmas,  no  senseless  collection  of  jejune  rites  and  cere- 
monies, no  tangled  jungle  of  traditions  and  myths,  which  have  gradually 
gathered  from  many  different  quarters  and  have  hardly  yet  been  syste- 
matized. Above  all,  we  must  not  mistake  for  Christianity,  as  do  many  of 
our  modern  opponents,  that  fallen  church  which  in  the  Apocalypse  is  de- 
Bcrlbcd  in  language  almost  too  strong  and  too  truthful  for  the  false 
lib.Talism  of  our  day  to  tolerate.  Christianity  is  not  a  mero  religion  as 
fiber  religions:  Christianity  is  Christ.  Herein  the  'faith  once  for  all  de- 
'ivorod  uuto  the  saints'  differs  from  all  others.  One  who  is  not  generally 
nrcountod  by  any  jueans  an  orthodox  Christian,  and  whoso  evidence  is  on 
I  hat  aicoiint  all  the  more  worthy  of  consideration  by  those  wlio  are  not 
»3   yi-t   convinced   of   the   truth   of   Christianity,   writes   thus   of  Christ's 


324  Mdlwdist  Review  [Marcli 

mighty  influence  upon  mankind,  contrasting  it,  not  with,  that  of  the  ethnic 
faitlis  in  their  corruiilion,  but  with  that  exercised  bj'  tl'e  greatest  philoso- 
phers of  ancient  times  upon  their  disciples.  'The  Platonist,'  says  Mr. 
Lecky,  'exhorted  men  to  imitate  God,  the  Stoic  to  follow  re?json,  the  Chris- 
tian to  the  love  of  Christ.  The  later  Stoics  had  often  united  their  notions 
of  excellence  in  an  ideal  sage,  and  Epictetus  had  even  urged  Ills  disciples 
to  set  before  them  some  man  of  surpassirtg  excellence,  and  to  imagine  him 
continually  near  them:  but  the  utmost  the  Stoic  ideal  could  become  was  a 
model  for  imitation,  and  the  admiration  it  inspired  could  never  deepen 
into  affection.  It  was  reserved  for  Christiauity  to  present  to  the  world  an 
ideal  character,  wiiich,  through  all  tlie  changes  of  eighteen  centuries,  has 
inspired  the  hearts  of  men  with  an  impassioned  love,  has  shown  itself 
capable  of  acting  on  all  ages,  nations,  temperaments,  and  conditions,  has 
been  not  only  the  highest  pattern  of  virtue,  but  the  strongest  Incentive 
to  its  practice,  and  has  exercised  so  deep  an  influence  that  it  may  be  truly 
said  that  the  simple  record  of  three  short  years  of  active  life  has  done 
more  to  regenerate  and  bofteu  mankind  than  all  the  disquisitions  of 
philosophers  and  all  the  exhortations  of  moralists.  This  has,  indeed, 
been  the  wellspring  of  whatever  is  best  and  purest  in  the  Christian  life. 
Among  all  the  sins  and  fallings,  amid  all  the  priestcraft  and  persecution 
and  fanaticism  that  have  defaced  the  church,  it  has  preserved,  in  the 
character  and  example  of  its  Founder,  an  enduring  principle  of  regenera- 
tion.' Again,  Chri.stianity  differs  from  all  other  faiths  by  containing  all 
the  good  to  be  found  in  the  whole  of  them  collectively,  but  none  of  their 
errors  and  abominations.  Ethnic  religions  have  been  compared  to  a 
stream  into  which  flow  two  rivulets,  one  pure  and  the  other  foul.  In  the 
bed  of  the  river  these  mingle  their  waters,  though  sometimes  there  may 
still  be  detected  a  part  of  the  current  v.-hich  has  partially  escaped  pollu- 
tion. Lactantius  and  other  Christian  v/riters  of  antiquity  appeal  to  the 
fact  that  on  certain  occasions  even  polytheisls  confess  the  unity  of  God 
and  show  some  knowledge  of  him.  'When  they  sv/ear,  and  when  they  ex- 
press a  hope,  and  v/hen  they  render  thanks,  they  name — not  Jove,  nor 
many  deities,  but — "God";  to  such  an  extent  does  truth  of  itself  naturally 
find  expression  even  from  unwilling  hearts.'  Lactantius  points  out  thr.t 
in  prosperity  this  occurs  much  less  frequently  than  in  adversity.  Amid 
the  threatening  horrors  of  vrar,  when  in  danger  from  pestilence,  drought, 
famine,  and  even  a  sudden  storm,  men  turn  to  God,  seek  aid  from  him,  beg 
him  to  come  to  their  assistance.  But  'they  never  remember  God  except 
when  they  arc  in  trouble.  After  fear  has  left  them  and  dangers  have 
receded,  then  indeed  do  tlioy  joyfully  run  together  to  the  temples  of  the 
deities:  to  thom  they  pour  out  libations,  to  them  they  offer  sacrifice,  them 
do  they  crown  with  garlands.  But  to  God,  whom  they  had  called  upon 
in  the  stress  of  necessity,  not  even  in  word  do  they  offer  thanks.'  Under- 
lying polytheism,  and  even  such  philosophical  pantheism  as  is  to  be  found 
in  modern  India,  there  still  exists  in  each  human  heart,  even  if  no  longer 
in  bock-religions  and  in  r.y.stems  of  pliilosophy,  an  innate  belief  in  the  one 
true  and  living  God,  who  is  not  a  'Stream  of  Tendency,'  not  'The  Un- 
knowable,' nor  'a  Power  not  ourselves  thai  makes  for  righteousness,'  but 


Uao]  Bool'  Notices  325 

the  heavenly  Father  -^-hope  name  is  preserved  even  In  the  traditions  of 
the  modern  savage.  lu  tlie  ethnic  religions,  ou  the  other  hand,  we  meet 
with  a  whole  host  of  lessor  divinities,  many  of  them  confessedly  evil,  who 
have  almost  entirely  led  their  worsliipers  away  from  God.  In  recalling 
men  to  the  worship  of  the  Father  in  heaven,  Christianity  is  a  'republica- 
tion of  natural  religion.'  Moreover,  it  thus  again  proclaims  the  great 
truth  to  which  'the  human  soul  naturally  Christian'  bears  mute  witness. 
It  not  only  avoids  introducing  other  gods  but  leaves  no  room  for  them  in 
the  heart  of  a  Christian  worthy  of  the  name.  In  this  respect,  as  well  as 
in  many  others,  we  have  in  Christianity  the  gold  without  the  alloy,  the 
silver  without  the  dross.  As  we  have  already  seen,  there  is  good  reason 
to  believe  that  the  true  knowledge  of  God  shone  upon  the  cradle  of  our 
race.  The  noble  vision  became  veiled,  and  idolatry  with  all  its  attendant 
abominations  shows  itself  in  history  as  the  result  of  a  fall  which  calls  for 
a  restoration,  rather  than  as  the  starting  point  of  a  continuou.s  advance. 
The  noble  vision  became  veiled.  Vrho  raised  the  veil?  It  was  not  the 
priests  of  the  idols.  In  the  history  of  paganism  reformation  movements, 
or  at  least  those  of  religious  transformation,  are  met  with.  Buddhism  is 
a  noteworthy  instance.  But  it  was  not  a  return  to  the  pure  traditions  of 
India  or  of  Egypt  wbirh  made  us  know  that  God  whom  we  adore.  Was 
Iho  veil  raised  by  thought,  that  is  to  say,  by  the  efforts  of  philosophers? 
Philosophy  has  rendered  brilliant  services  to  the  world,  .  .  .  yet  it  was 
not  philosophy  that  restored  to  humanity  the  conception  of  God.  Mixed 
with  darkness  its  rays  of  light  remained  scattered,  destitute  of  a  focus 
BuQiclently  potent  to  enable  them  to  enlighten  the  universe.  To  seek  for 
God,  and,  consequently,  in  some  degree  to  know  him  already,  but  to  stand 
constantly  lu  front  of  the  altar  of  a  God  of  whom  chosen  sages  had  merely 
caught  a  glimpse,  and  who  to  the  multitude  remained  an  Unknown  God — 
Buch  was  the  v.-isdom  of  the  ancients.  It  prepared  the  soil,  but  it  did  not 
plant  (he  seed  from  which  should  spring  up,  living  and  strong,  the  con- 
ception of  the  Creator,  to  shade  with  its  boughs  all  the  peoples  of  the 
earth.  And  when  this  conception  did  appear  in  all  its  splendor  and  began 
the  conquest  of  the  world,  ancient  philosophy,  which  h?d  jjarted  company 
with  pagan  worship  and  had  covered  it  with  contempt,  formed  an  alliance 
with  Its  old  enemy.  It  accepted  the  most  rash  explanations  of  common 
Bui)or8tItlons  in  order  to  be  able  to  lengue  itself  with  the  mob  in  the 
contest  with  the  new  Power  which  had  just  made  its  appearance  in  the 
world.  This  is  the  epitome  of  the  history  of  philosophy  in  the  first  period 
of  our  era.  Modern  monotheism  is  not  the  offspring  of  paganism,  speaking 
historically.  It  was  prepared  for  by  ancient  philosophy  without  being 
produced  thereby.  Whence,  then,  does  It  come?  About  this  there  exists 
no  .scrloua  difference  of  opinion.  Our  knov/ledge  of  God  Is  the  result  of  a 
ronrcptlon  traditionally  transmitted  from  generation  to  generation  in  a 
definite  historical  course.  ...  All  the  superstitions  of  which  history  retains 
the  r^^collection  still  prevail  to-day  either  in  Asia  or  in  Africa  or  In  the 
lilandB  of  the  sea.  The  most  absurd  and  the  most  cruel  rites  are  still 
Rhone  upon  by  the  rays  of  the  same  sun  that  at  its  setting  gilds  the  spires 
and  domes  of  our  churches.    Even  to-day  there  are  on  earth  peoples  who 


326  Mcihodisl  Reviow  [Maroli 

prostrate  themselves  before  animals,  or  who  worship  sacred  trees.  Even 
to-day,  says  the  lecturer  whom  we  are  here  quoting,  perchance  at  the 
very  moment  when  I  am  addressing  you,  human  victims  are  being  bound 
by  idol  priests;  before  you  leave  this  hall  their  blood  will  have  stained 
the  altars  of  false  gods.  Even  to-day  many  nations,  which  have  lacked 
neither  time  to  develop  tliemsolves,  nor  all  the  resources  of  civilization, 
nor  able  poets,  nor  thoughtful  philoso])hcrs,  belong  to  the  religion  of  the 
Brahmans  or  are  taught  the  legends  v.iiioh  clothe  the  gloomy  teachings 
of  Buddha.  Where  is  there  to  be  found  the  clear  conception  of  the  Cre- 
ator? In  an  uniQue  tradition  which  comes  from  the  Jews,  v.hich  the 
Christians  have  spread  abroad,  and  which  Mohammed  corrupted.  It  is 
under  the  infxuence  of  this  tradition,  and  nowhere  else,  that  God  is  known 
with  that  clear  and  general  knowledge  which  forms  the  foundation  of  a 
doctrine  and  of  a  religion.  Tin's  is  a  sim])le  fact  of  modern  history,  and 
hardly  any  fact  of  history  is  more  thoroughly  established.  Not  only  does 
belief  in  the  one  living  and  true  God  come  to  us  through  Christ,  the  Mes- 
siah promised  to  the  chosen  people  so  long  before  his  advent,  but,  apart 
from  Christ  and  his  teaching,  we  moderns  have  made  absolutely  no  ad- 
vance in  the  knowledge  of  God  beyond  that  of  the  philosophers  of  Greece 
and  Rome.  Without  the  self-revelation  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ  we  should, 
at  best,  still  be  erecting  altars  to  an  Unknown  God.  Christ  alone  among 
the  gi-eat  teachers  of  the  v/orld  presents  to  us  from  the  moral  side  au 
embodiment  of  our  highest  possible  conceptions  of  the  Divine.  These  are 
not  only  loftier  and  nobler  than  those  which  the  Jews  had  of  old,  but — 
as  held  by  all  true  Christians — are  higher  than  the  conceptions  of  our 
greatest  modern  non-Christian  thinkers,  such  as  Spencer  and  Mill.  When 
a  man  rejects  Christ  he  soon  finds  how  little  he  knows  about  God.  He  is 
a  lest  babe  in  the  wood,  he  knows  not  the  path  home,  he  can  teach  nothing 
that  will  help  his  fellows.  His  creed  consists  of  empty  negations.  For  a 
time  he  may  still  cling  to  the  belief  thai  virtue,  honor,  purity  are  not 
mei-e  vain  words;  inheriied  Christian  hal)its  may  enable  him  to  live  an 
upright  though  hopf!less  life.  But  the  flower  soon  withers  v/heu  severed 
from  the  parent  stem.  Jjife  lacks  an  object,  exertion  a  mainspring,  exis- 
tence a  goul,  when  Jesus  Christ  fades  from  our  view,  and  with  him  the 
Father  in  heaven  whom  he  has  revealed  to  men.  In  religious  philosophy, 
too,  the  debt  which  we  owe  to  the  gosi)el  is  groat.  Egypt  may  perhaps,  as 
Professor  Petrie  seems  to  thinlc,  have  first  in  a  sense  enunciated  a  theory 
which  may  have  ultimately  developed  into  some  belief  in  a  Divine  Logos. 
The  term  is  also  employed  in  Plato  and  Philo,  whence  it  doubtless  entered 
into  the  philosophic  langunge  of  the  first  century  of  our  era.  But  how 
vast  the  difference  between  the  vague  and  impersonal  Logos  theory  of 
Philo  and  the  'Word  made  flesh'  of  Saint  John!  To  speak  of  this  or  any 
other  Cliristian  doctrine  a>;  borrowed  from  any  ethnic  religion  or  philoso- 
phy is  to  confound  words  with  things,  llie  shadow  with  the  substance,  Im- 
agination with  fact.  But  were  Christianity  as  a  whole  produced  from 
other  fniths  by  some  mysterious  process  of  evolution  which  had  actually — 
in  whatever  way— brought  into  existence  the  historical  Christ  of  the  Gos- 
pels, that  fact,  instead  of  disproving  the  truth  of  Christianity,  would  most 


1010]  Bool-  Notices  327 

clearly  show  that,  on  any  systeni  of  theism,  Christianity  was  the  goal  to 
which  God  hart  gradually  during  past  a^cs  bc-Gu  gnidiug  the  human  race. 
We  may  doubtless  learn  many  lessens  from  the  comparative  study  of  re- 
ligions, but  fi-om  it  at  least  two  tacts  stand  out  most  distinctly,  being 
proved  alike  by  the  aspirations  and  by  the  failures  ol"  ethnic  religions  and 
jihilosopbies.  One  of  these  is,  the  world's  deej)  need  of  Christ;  the  other, 
bis  uniqueness.  This  twentieth  century  of  ours,  therefore,  may  well  join 
Its  voice  with  that  of  his  disciples  of  the  first  in  the  cry,  'Lord,  to  whom 
shall  we  go?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life':  and  well  may  It  fcx- 
claim  with  Augustine,  once  an  unbeliever  and  a  sinner,  afterward  a  failh- 
ful  soldier  of  Christ:  'O  God,  Thou  madest  us  for  thyself,  and  restless  Is 
our  heart  until  it  rest  in  ihee.'  " 


PHILOSOPHY,     SCIENCE,  AND     GENERAL   LITERATURE 

Great  Issues.     By  Itor.EKT   F.    Houto:-;.     Crown   8vo    pp.   370.     New   York;  The   Macmillan 
Company.     Price    cloth,  SI  50.  net 

That  the  "issues"  discussed  in  these  twelve  chapters  are  "great"  all 
men  will  agree;  with  the  views  presented  in  the  discussion  not  all  men 
will  fully  agree;  but  that  the  book  is  stimulating  will  be  conceded 
even  by  those  who  differ  with  parts  of  it.  A  certain  reviewer  thinks 
Dr.  Ilorton's  Christianity  somewhat  mystical  and  undefined  and  con- 
tinues further  as  follows:  "The  Rev.  Robert  P.  Morton,  the  author  of 
Great  Issues,  represents  the  modern  recrudescence  of  muscular  Chris- 
tianity. His  will  to  believe  is  so  strong  and  large  as  to  admit  lodging 
space  for  a  reasonable  amount  of  alien  science  and  even  skepticism.  He 
is  a  lover  of  the  cerebral  watertight  compartment.  Keep  your  science 
and  your  faith  apart  and  neither  will  trouble  the  other.  Obviously,  this 
is  sound  mediievalism;  in  fact,  the  merely  ancillary  position  of  science 
Is  hinted  at  if  not  affirmed.  Myths,  Religion,  Morality,  Rolitics,  Socialism, 
Philosophy,  Science,  Theology,  Literature,  Art,  Life,  Death — such  are  the 
truly  great  issues  that  are  here  cheerfully  elucidated.  Mr.  Horton's 
manner  has  dignity  and  force,  but  he  strides  all  obstacles  with  the  seven- 
leagued  lioots  of  the  devout  pragmatist.  The  churches  seem  to  be  dying, 
but  Christianity  is  living,  is  a  chaiacteristic  paradox.  As  to  the  story  of 
Christ,  he  believes  it  to  be  essentially  true;  but  if  it  were  indeed  a  myth, 
it  would  have  equal  moral  claims  upon  us.  For  "Christian  Science"  he 
enterUiins  a  tenderness,  since  the  doctrine  seems  to  provide  cash  values 
in  personal  serenity.  Our  essayist  is  widely  read,  and  his  illustrations 
are  frequently  better  than  the  substance  of  his  discourse.  He  was  at 
Oxford  'in  tlie  days  of  the  cesthetes,'  but  to  judge  by  the  essay  on  art  it 
did  him  rather  little  good.  In  general  he  exemplifies  a  sort  of  tcmnora- 
mental  optimism  that  easily  invents  the  lew  intellectual  warranties  it 
nocdB.  Al!  liis  suppositions  come  out  well.  Eor  instance,  he  writes:  "If 
Protestantism  is  a  fiiilure,  as  Dr.  Newman  Smyth  implies,  and  as  it  would 
'""m  from  ttie  decay  of  the  Protestant  churches  on  the  Continent,  the 
aiu-rnativo  is  not  a   return  to  Catholicism,  but  a  return   to  Christianity.' 


3^  Methodist  Bevie.vj  [March 

Our  two  quotations  suggest  the  mystical  and  undefined  sense  that  Chris- 
tianity has  in  this  book.     In  fact,  the  landsrapc  of  Great  Issues  has  no 
metes  and   bounds.     For  that  reason  genial,  long-winded   folk  of  roving 
mood   will  like  it  immensely.     Cautious  folk   who   prefer  to   keep  their 
intellectual  bearings  may  as  well  be  warned  off  once  for  all.     One  must 
share    Mr.    Hortoa's    robust    religious    impressionism    to    profit    by    his 
counsels."    Agreeing  with  this  reviewer  in  the  opinion  that  Dr.  Horton's 
illustrations  are  often  better  than  the  subalance  of  his  discourse,  we  turn 
to   some  of  the   illustrations.     Egerton   Young   went  as   missionary   to  a 
tribe  of  red   men   who  had    never   heard    the  gospel.     Pie   dwelt  on  the 
Fatherhood   of  God    with   great   earnestness.     Presently   a  chief,   in   his 
feathers  and  deerskin,  rose  and  said,  "White  man,  do  you  say  that  God 
Is  the  Father  of  the  white  man?"    "Yes."    "And  is  he  the  Father  of  the 
red  men?"     "Yes."     "Then   the  red   men  and  the   white   are  brothers?" 
"Yes."    "Why  did  not  our  white  brothers,  if  they  knew  it.  come  and  tell 
V.S  this  before?"    In  illustration  of  the  well-known  fact  that  actions  which 
once  passed  unquestioned  by  conscience  become  questionable  in  a  fuller 
moral  light,  and  are  filially  condemned  and  put  away,  the  following  story 
is  given:   "George  Grenfell  found  among  the  Bengola  of  the  Congo  the 
most  revolting  cannibalism.     Not   only  were  slaughtered  enemies   eaten, 
but  human   butchers   kidnapped,   bought,   or   otherwise   obtained   human 
flesh,  which  they  fattened  for  the  human  market.     A  morbid  passion  for 
this  food  was  common;  a  chief  would  kill  and  eat  his  wives,  and  ask  the 
relatives  of  each  slaughtered  woman   to  the  banquet;    many   would   dig 
up  corpses  in  an  advanced  stage  of  decomposition  for  food— the  origin, 
It  is  thought,  of  the  eaily  Arab  stories  of  ghouls!     These  customs  existed 
unquestioned  and  uncondemned.     But  Grenfell  found,  on  closer  acquaint- 
ance with  the  tribe,  that  all  v.-ere  perfectly  conscious  of  the  evil.     They 
knew  -the  taste  was   depraved,  as  the  drunkard   condemns  drunkenness. 
At  the  touch  of  the  gospel   the   Bengola   become  the  most   devoted  and 
loyal  of  Christians.    They  break  with  their  old  life;  It  passes  as  a  horrible 
dream."     Here  is  an  attempt  to  illustrate  the  nature  of  hell:    "Facing 
eternity,  that  eternity  which  it  does  not  seem  within  our  power  to  evade, 
it  is  evidently  necessary  to  have  a   consciousness  which,  at  home   with 
eternal  things,  has  learned  to  live  a  life  tolerant  of  an  eternal  continuance 
and  growth.     A  life  which  has  become  entirely  dependent  on  the  things 
that  are  passing  away  might  be  hardly  less  desolate  and  forlorn  in  an 
eternal   world  than  one  which  has  heedlessly  misused  the  things  of  th« 
senses.     A   Dives   in    hell   might   suffer    as   much   as   a    debauchee    or   a 
criminal.     For  to   the   thoroughly   vicious   character   the   indulgence  has 
ceased  to  be  pleasing,  and  hell  only  continues  the  habit  of  his  life;   but 
for  Dives  hell  means  the  loss  of  the  comforts  and  luxuries  which  were  his 
only  pleasures.    A  man  living  the  luxurious  and  solf-indulgent  life  of  the 
clubs  had  one  night  a  dream  which  altogether  changed  his  course  of  life. 
He  was  in  hell,  and  he  knew  it.     But  the  strange  thing  was  that  he  was 
in  the  smoking-room  of  his  club,  and  everything  appeared  just  as  usual. 
Ho  rang  the  bell,  which  brouglit  in  the  waiter,  alrrt  and  respectful.     He 
asked  for  the  evening  papers.     'Yes.  sir,'  was  the  reply,  and  they  were 


3  010]  Bool  Notices  329 

Immediately  brought.  He  glanced  through  them,  but  could  find  no  interest 
In  them.  He  rang  again.  The  same  deferential  waiter  was  at  the  door. 
Ho  ordered  a  brandy  and  soda  'Yes,  fvir,'  and  It  waB  brought  at  once. 
'Waiter,'  he  asked,  'where  am  I?'  'In  hell,  sir,*  was  the  reply.  'Is  this 
hi^U?"  he  cried;  'is  it  just  like  this?  Will  it  continue  so?'  'Yes,  it  is  just 
this,  and  will  continue  so!'  'Forever?'  'Yes,  forever!'  Then  the  horror 
of  it  broke  upon  hira.  Life  had  consisted  in  kllli)ig  time  with  the  aimless 
indulgences  of  the  club.  He  had  always  congratulated  himself  on  getting 
through  another  day,  or  week,  or  winter.  Though  he  had  always  dreaded 
death,  each  lapse  of  the  years  of  life  had  been  a  relief.  But  now  here 
was  no  lime  to  kill.  He  might  kill  years,  centuries,  millennia,  but  ho 
would  be  just  where  he  was — the  selfish  meals,  the  cigars,  the  drinks,  the 
sporting  papers.  He  realized  that  he  was  in  hell.  The  supreme  problem, 
then,  is  to  obtain  an  interpretation,  a  plan,  a  mode  of  life  which,  having 
in  itself  intrinsic  value,  continued  into  eternity,  would  retain  and  increase 
its  value.  Not  life  is  what  wo  want,  but  life  that  is  life  indeed.  'Ovinia 
ftii,  et  nihil  cxpcdit,'  said  the  Emperor  Severus — '1  have  been  everything 
and  nothing  is  of  any  use.'  The  same  burden  is  in  Eccleslastes,  though 
with  a  conclusion  that  offers  a  clue.  It  is  a  commonplace  of  thought — and 
it  is  this  which  makes  Eccleslastes  the  most  delicately  charming  book 
in  the  Bible  to  a  mind  like  Kenan's — ^that  all  the  experiences  of  honor, 
indulgence,  wealth,  and  power,  which  are  possible  for  a  human  being, 
may  leave  the  soul  as  hungry  and  dissatisfied  as  ever.  Though  mistaken 
mortals  start  out  on  the  old  quest,,  defiant  of  the  v/orld's  experience,  it 
remains  true  that  everything  Vv-hich  the  world  offers  is  in  the  long  run 
vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit."  Here  is  a  passage  from  Dr.  Horlon  about 
the  mission  of  the  artist,  which,  in  a  measure,  suggests  the  mission  of  the 
minister:  "The  soul  of  a  man,  and  the  soul  of  a  society,  withers  and 
perishes,  unless  some  gifted  minds,  'of  imagination  all  compact,'  can  body 
forth  its  ideal,  and  present  it  with  the  images  toward  which  It  is  to  grow. 
The  intrinsic  beauty  is  not  always  visible  to  the  eye,  nor  is  the  hannony 
Of  the  spheres  always  audible  to  the  ear.  The  world  looks  drab  and 
casual,  a  rapid  succession  of  vanishing  scenes  rather  than  a  paradise  or  a 
city  of  God.  The  sounds  which  assail  the  ear  are  often  discordant  or 
unintelligible.  The  beauty  we  thought  was  thej'e  is  gone,  the  music  we 
thought  we  heard  is  silent.  Discoui-aged  and  disillusioned,  humanity 
relaxes  effort  and  stops  its  march.  Now  is  the  artist  needed.  He  does  not 
tal;e  the  place  of  the  prophet  or  the  seer;  he  Is  tl\e  prophet  and  the  seer. 
He  does  not  usurp  the  work  of  evangelist  and  apostle,  but  he  is  needed 
to  bathe  the  evangel  in  the  iridescent  colors  of  the  heavens,  and  to  carry 
the  apostle  forward  to  the  sound  of  music.  He  begins  the  high  chant  of 
the  things  that  always  were  and  of  the  things  that  are  to  be.  And  tho 
mighty  process  of  evolution  becomes  an  ordered  march,  a  march  to  the 
melody  of  which  the  feet  of  men  can  move.  'Mother,'  said  a  child,  as 
tho  military  band  marched  along  the  street,  'how  is  it  that  the  music  makes 
nie  feel  happier  than  I  am?'  The  answer  is  one  of  the  great  secrets  and 
the  justification  of  all  great  art.  The  arti.st  paiutb  his  jdcture  or  fetches 
his  statue  out  of  the  marble,  and  immediately  the  world  Is  seen  to  be  a 


330  Mdhodisi   Review  [March 

great  landscape  or  seascape,  blossoming,  wind-swept,  glinting  with  light; 
and  human  forms  are  seen  to  he  beautiful,  even  divine.  The  artist  tunes 
his  orchestra  and  sounds  his  prelude.  Then  the  great  piece  proceeds.  We 
are  at  a  high  inusif.  All  the  thoughts  of  men  eeem  to  be  transcended; 
all  the  experiences  of  men,  the  passion,  the  rapture,  the  sorrow,  the  pain, 
are  blended  and  harmonized.  The  vrorld  seems  noble  and  full  of  meaning; 
the  heavens  bend  over  it  with  conscious  and  palpitnting  stars."  Head 
that  extract  over  ayain,  atid  note  in  hosv  much  of  it  you  can  substitute 
"minister"  for  "artist."  To  touch  life  with  glory,  to  make  existence  seem 
nobly  worth  whih;,  to  impart  tlie  inspiring  motives  which  shall  make  the 
hard  march  easy,  to  put  cxliilaration  in  the  place  of  ennui  and  good  cheer 
in  the  place  of  desjjondoncy — all  this  is  the  expected  and  possible  work 
of  the  preacher  of  the  gosjis^l  of  Jesus  Christ;  and  he  can,  if  he  will,  and  if 
he  knows  his  gos])el  aright,  do  all  this  with  the  solid  verities  of  the 
"faith  of  our  fathers"  more  successfully  and  permanently  than  the  Eddy- 
ites  can  with  their  metaphysical  mist  and  moonshine  of  delusion  and 
make-believe,  ignoring  and  denying  as  they  do  the  concrete  facts  of 
science,  experience,  aiid  life. 

Shelley.    By  I  i-^ncib  Tii'TMrsox.     IGmo,  pp.  01.      Imported  by  Cliarlcs  S'^ribner's  Sons,  New 
York.     Price,  clolli,  Si. 

An  exquisite  bit  of  literature  is  this  esf^ay;  and  so  seldom  does  any- 
thing appear  that  is  real  literature  and  really  exquisite,  that,  when  it 
does,  it  is  a  treasure  to  be  prized,  and  all  who  love  such  products  should 
be  notified.  Bad;  in  the  eighties  of  the  nineteenth  century  Bishop  Vaughan 
met  the  poet  Francis  Thompson  in  l.ondon  and  suggested  that  he  con- 
tribute an  article  to  the  Dublin  Review.  Thus  prompted,  Thompson  in 
1889  offered  this  essay  on  Shelley.  The  editor  declined  the  article,  and 
the  discouraged  author  threw  it  aside,  and  it  was  found  among  his  papers 
after  his  death.  His  literary  executor  offered  it  again  to  the  venerable 
quarterly  which  liad  declined  it  nineteen  years  before,  and  it  was  published 
in  the  Dublin  Review  in  July,  lOOS,  with  the  result  that  for  the  first  time 
in  its  seventy-two  year.':  the  Dublin  had  to  issue  a  second  edition  to  supply 
the  demand  which  ckimon-a  for  copies  of  this  masterpiece  of  English 
prose,  this  nest  of  Imiied  jewels,  posthumously  brought  to  view  and 
glittering  in  the  sunlight  of  publicity.  One  capalde  critic  notified  the 
public  with  words  like  these:  "Brilliant,  joyous,  poignant  are  these  pages 
of  interpretation,  j-.s  sensitive  and  magical  as  the  mind  of  oiie  poet  ev*rr 
lent  to  the  genlu.s  of  another."  It  set  I^ondon  ringing,  as  would  some 
splendid  music  never  played  till  found  in  the  portfolio  of  some  dead  com- 
poser. Thus  the  rejected  article,  which  was  the  brilliant  expression  of 
the  inward  glory  of  Francis  Thompson's  youth,  becomes  his  own  rich 
eulogy  and  ejiitaph.  The  })ity  of  the  matter  is  that  public  appreciation 
arrives  too  late  to  comfort  him.  Unsuccess,  poverty,  an;l  hardship  made 
his  life  bitter  and  sorrowful,  a  har)less  lot,  full  of  i-heer  misery;  and 
the  medal  of  honor  pinned  now  on  his  dead  breast  accents  and  iuton.sifies 
the  pathos  of  his  fate.  In  the  introduction  prefixed  to  this  essay,  Mr. 
George   Wyndham    calls    it    "the    mo.st    important    contribution    to    pure 


11)10]  Booh  Notices  331 

Letters  written  in  English  during  tbc  last  twenty  years.  .  .  .  Matthaw 
Arnold's  Essays  in  Criticism  did  net  reach  such  heights.  They  do  not, 
as  a  rule,  handle  subjects  so  pertinent  to  poetry;  and  when  they  do  they 
are  outclassed  by  this  essay.  .  .  .  The  only  recent  essay  on  poetry  which 
challenges  comparison  with  Francis  Thompson's  Shelley  is  Myers's  Virgil. 
Thompson's  style  is  incomiiarable  in  rhythm  and  profuse  illustration.  lie 
is  rich  and  melodic,  where  Mycjs  is  sweet  and  ornate.  Thompson's  article, 
though  in  the  form  of  prose,  is  pure  poetry,  and  is  also  in  reality,  though 
uncoJisciously,  a  human  document  of  intense  sulfering.  This  is  why  it 
pierces  like  an  arrow  to  the  universal  heart  of  man,  and  sticks  and 
quivers  there."  One  of  Francis  Thompson's  affirmations  is  that  Shelley 
was  essentially  an  eternal  child,  the  enchanted  child.  Listen  to  this: 
"In  Shelley's  poetry  we  see  the  winsome  face  of  the  child.  Perhaps  none 
of  his  poems  is  more  purely  and  typically  Shelleian  than  'The  Cloud,'  and 
it  is  interesting  to  note  how  essentially  it  springs  from  the  faculty  of 
make-believe.  The  same  thing  is  conspicuous  throughout  all  his  singing; 
it  is  the  child's  faculty  of  make-believe  raised  to  the  nti>  power.  He  1b 
ever  at  play.  Tlie  universe  is  his  box  of  toys.  He  dabbles  his  fin.gers  in 
the  day-fall.  He  is  gold-dusty  with  tumbling  amidst  the  stars.  He  makes 
bright  mischief  with  the  moon.  The  meteors  nuzzle  their  noses  in  his 
hand.  He  teases  into  growling  the  kenneled  thunder,  and  laughs  at  the 
shaking  of  its  fiery  chain.  He  dances  in  and  out  of  the  gates  of  heaven; 
its  floor  is  littered  with  his  broken  fancies.  He  runs  wild  over  the  fields 
of  ether.  He  chases  the  rolling  world.  He  gets  between  the  feet  of  the 
horses  of  the  sun.  He  stands  in  the  lap  of  patient  Nature,  and  twines 
her  loosened  tresses  after  a  hundred  willful  fashions,  to  see  hew  she  will 
look  nicest  in  his  song."  What  a  picture  of  an  eternal  child  romping 
with  the  universe!  Farther  on  the  essay  returns  to  this  point  as  follows: 
"The  poems  on  which  the  lover  of  Shelley  leans  most  lovingly,  and  which 
best  represent  Shelley  to  him,  are  some  of  the  shorter  poems  and  detached 
lyrics,  in  which  Shelley  forgets  that  he  is  anything  but»a  poet,  forgr-ts 
sometimes  that  he  is  anything  but  a  child,  lies  back  in  his  skiff,  and 
looks  at  the  clouds.  He  plays  truant  from  earth,  slips  through  the  wicket 
of  fancy  into  heaven's  meadow,  and  goes  gathering  stars.  Hero  we  have 
that  absolute  virgin-gold  of  song  which  is  the  scarcest  an^,ong  human 
products,  and  for  which  we  can  go  to  but  three  poets — Coleridge  in 
'Christxibel'  and  'Knbla-Khan';  Shelley  in  'The  Skylark,'  'The  Cloud.' 
and  'The  Sensitive  riant';  and  Keats  in  'The  Eve  of  Saint  Agnes'  and 
'The  Nightingale.'  These  are  made  of  quintessential  loveliness,  the  very 
attar  of  poetry."  And  again,  near  ito  end,  the  essay  reverts  to  tbc  same 
view  of  Shelley:  "Enchanted  child,  born  into  a  world  unchildlike;  spoiled 
darling  of  Nature,  playmate  of  her  elemental  daughters;  'pard-like  spirit, 
beautiful  and  swift,'  laired  amidst  the  burning  fastuesses  of  his  own 
fervid  mind;  bold  foot  along  the  verges  of  precipitous  dreams;  light 
loaper  from  crag  to  crag  of  inaccessible  fancies;  towering  Genius,  whoso 
Bou)  rose  like  a  ladder  between  earth  and  heaven  with  the  angels  of  so!ig 
ascending  and  desce.'iding  upon  it!"  That  Shelley  jicver  ceased  to  be 
a  magnified  child  is  rciieratcd.     To  the  last  he  retained  the  idiosyncrasy 


332  Methodist  Beview  []Vfarcli 

of  childhood  expanded  and  matured  without  differentiation.  lu  his  life, 
as  In  his  poetry,  he  shows  the  genuine  child'.s  power  of  investing  little 
things  with  imaginative  interest.  And  even  the  errors  of  his  life  are 
palliated  by  Francis  Tiiompson  as  hcing  due  to  the  irrationalities  and 
unrestrained  inipulse-c  of  a  foolish  child.  And  it  was  no  enmity  of  cir- 
cumstances, but  his  own  uuieasonable  and  ungoverned  nature  that  was 
responsible  for  Shelley's  mistakes  and  unhappiness.  Thompson  calls 
"Prorat'theus  Unbound"  the  greatest  and  most  prodigal  exhibition  of 
Shelley's  powers — an  "amaring  lyric  woidd  where  immortal  clarities  sigh 
past  in  the  perfumes  of  the  blossoms,  populate  Ihe  breathings  of  the 
breeze,  throng  and  twinkle  in  the  leaves  that  twirl  upon  the  bough; 
where  the  very  grass  is  all  a-rustle  with  lovely  spirit-things,  and  a  weeping 
mist  of  music  fills  the  air.  The  final  scenes  especially  are  such  a  Bacchic 
reel  and  rout  and  revelry  of  beauty  as  leaves  one  staggered  and  giddy; 
poetry  is  spilt  like  wine  and  music  runs  to  waste.  The  choruses  sweep 
down  the  wind,  tirelessly,  flight  after  flight,  till  the  breathless  soul  almost 
cries  for  respite  from  the  unrolling  splendors."  It  is  interesting  to  find 
Francis  Thompson  saying  that  the  one  thing  which  prevents  Shelley's 
"Adonais"  from  being  perfect  Is  its  lack  of  Christian  hope.  Thompson 
can  talie  no  comfort  in  the  prospect  of  a  mere  pantheistic  immortality, 
"whose  v.an  countenance,"  he  says,  "is  as  the  countenance  of  a  despair." 
A  poor  immortality,  Indeed,  it  is  that  thrusts  you  into  the  maw  of  Nature 
and  circulates  your  dissolved  elements  through  her  veins.  Thompson's 
essay  does  not  ignore  the  evil  side  of  Shelley's  life,  but  thinks  that  through 
it  all  there  was  a  blind  and  stumbling  eJYort  toward  higher  things.  He  is 
not  considered  genuinely  corrupt  of  heart  as  was  Byron,  "through  the 
cracks  and  fissures  of  whose  heaving  vei'sification  steam  up  perpetually 
the  suli'hurous  vapors  from  his  central  iniquity."  It  is  not  believed  that 
any  Christian  ever  had  his  faith  shaken  through  reading  Shelley,  unless 
his  faith  were  shaken  before  he  read  Shelley.  Thompson  argues  that  no 
one  really  corrupt  and  carnal  could  write  poetry  so  consistently  ethereal  as 
Shelley's.  He  says  "we  should  believe  in  nothing  if  we  believed  that,  for 
it  would  be  the  consecration  of  a  lie.  Tlie  devil  can  do  many  things.  But 
the  devil  cannot  write  ])oetry.  He  may  mar  a  poet  but  he  cannot  make 
a  poet.  Among  all  the  temptations  wherewith  he  tempted  Saint  Anthony, 
though  we  have  often  scon  it  stated  that  he  howled,  we  have  never 
seen  it  stated  that  he  sang."  Shelley's  heresies  were  borrowed,  it  is 
claimed,  from  the  French  Revolution  in  a  wild  and  frenzied  period;  and 
it  is  said  that  the  religion  around  him  was  a  spectral  Christianity,  unable 
to  permeate  and  regulate  human  society.  The  radical  defect  which  mildews 
our  contemporary  poetry  in  general,  according  to  Francis  'iliompson, 
Is  the  predominance  of  art  over  inspiration,  of  body  over  soul.  Writers, 
even  those  of  high  aim,  arc  ovcrdellbcrate  in  expression.  This  results  in 
choosing  the  most  ornate  word,  the  word  farthest  from  ordinary  speech. 
In  prose,  Henry  James  is  an  example  of  (his.  It  affects  even  writers 
who  aim  at  simplicity,  for  "nothing  is  so  artificial  as  our  simplicity.  "NVo 
are  self-couBcious  to  the  finger-tips;  and  this  entails  loss  of  Bpontaneity 
and  inBurt'S  that  whatever  poets  may  be  born,  the  spirit  of  Shelley  is  not 


1910]  Book  Notices  333 

likely  to  find  a  reincarnation  among  us.  An  age  that  is  ceasing  to  produce 
childlike  children  crainot  produce  a  Shelley."  Touching  on  the  familiar, 
but  sometimes  overlooked,  fact  that  emotion  cannot  be  stable,  that  feeling 
inevitably  fiucluates,  the  essay  before  us  says:  "Even  love  .^^eems  to  have 
its  tidal  moments,  lapses,  and  fiovrs.  Love  is  an  affection,  its  display  is 
an  emotion;  love  is  the  air,  its  display  is  the  wind.  An  affection  may  be 
constant;  an  em.otion  can  no  more  be  constant  than  the  wind  can 
constantly  blow."  Referring  to  Robert  Brov.ning's  wooing  of  Elizabeth 
Barrett,  Francis  Thompson  mints  this  image:  "Browning  stooped  and 
picked  up  a  fair-coined  soul  that  lay  rusting  in  a  pool  of  tears."  In  closing 
our  notice  of  this  brilliant  essay,  a  literary  masterpiece  barely  redeemed 
from  oblivion,  we  must  say  that  we  are  less  convinced  by  Francis  Thomp- 
son's insistence  that  Shelley  belongs  to  the  Metaphysical  School  than  by 
his  characterizing  of  Shelley  as  a  child.  The  latter  view  we  can  accept 
as  largely  true;    but  an  essential  child  is  rot  metaphysical. 

Tlie  Wrotig  and  Peril  of  Woman  Suffrage.      By   James  M.  Bucklet,  LL.D.   12ino,  pp.  12S. 
New  York  and  Chicago:  rieiuing  H,  Revell  Company.    Price,  cloth,  76  cents  net. 

This  is  the  latest  output  of  Dr.  Buckley's  prolific  authorship.  Ante- 
cedent probability  and  an  examination  of  the  book  unite  to  convince  us 
that  this  is  as  strong  and  as  complete  an  argument  against  woman  suffrage 
as  can  be  made.  It  is  "dedicated  to  men  and  women  who  look  before  they 
leap";  and  is  a  serious,  solemn,  and  deeply  earnest  plea,  in  the  interest  of 
both,  sexes,  for  the  very  foundations  of  human  well-being.  So  the  author 
.intends,  and  so  the  majority  of  readers,  both  men  and  women,  will  doubt- 
less feel.  Lifelong  study  of  the  subject  has  settled  Dr.  Buckley  in  the 
conviction  that  "to  impose  upon  woman  the  burdens  of  government  in  the 
state  would  be  a  'Reform  against  Nature'  and  an  irreparable  calamity." 
Four  chapters  review  the  history  of  woman  suffrage  in  France,  England, 
and  the  United  States.  Five  chapters  refute  the  arguments  advanced  in 
favor  of  woman  suffrage.  Seven  chapters  set  in  impressive  array  the  vital 
objections  to  woman  suffrage.  One  chapter  cites  and  quotes  from  a  few 
of  the  notable  instances  in  which  eminent  and  Influential  men,  %vho  for  a 
time  favoicd  v.-oman  suffrage,  were  led  by  deeper  and  more  serious  con- 
eiderallon  of  the  nature  of  womanhood  and  its  relation  to  society  to  reverse 
their  opinions.  Among  these  are  Horace  Bushnell,  John  Bright,  Herbert 
Spencer,  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  Bishop  John  H.  Vincent,  the  founder  of  Chau- 
tauqua, who  has  distributed  diplomas  to  thousands  of  women  in  recognition 
of  their  comjileting  the  extended  course  of  reading  and  study  prescribed 
by  the  Chautauqua  Literary  and  Scientific  Circle.  We  quote  Bishop  Vin- 
cent's statement  of  his  matured  judgment:  "Vhen  about  thirty  years  of 
age  1  af:cepted  for  a  time  the  doctrine  of  woman  suffrage,  and  publicly 
defen.led  it.  Years  of  wide  and  careful  observation  have  convinced  me 
that  the  demand  for  woman  suffrage  in  America  is  without  foundation  In 
cfiulty,  and,  If  successful,  must  prove  harmful  to  American  society.  I  find 
some  worthy  women  defending  li.  but  the  majority  of  our  best  women. 
especiiUly  our  most  intelligent,  domestic,  and  godly  mothers,  neither  ask 
fur  nor  desire  it.    The  instinct  of  motherhood  is  against  it.    The  basal  con- 


334  Mclhodisi  Tie  view  [March 

viction  of  our  best  manhood  is  against  it.     The  movement  5s  at  root  a 
protest   af^ainst  the  representative   relations   and   functions  by   virtue  of 
which  each  sex  depends  upon  and  is  exalted  by  the  other.     This  theory 
and   policy,  tending  to  the  subversion  of   the  natural  and   divine  order, 
must  mal<e  man  less  a  man  and  woman  less  a  woman.     A  distinguished 
woman  advocate  of  this  suffrage  movement  says,  'We  need  the  ballot  lo 
protect  us  against  men.'    When  one  sex  is  compelled  thus  to  protect  itself 
against    the    other,   the    foundations    of    society    are    already    crumbling. 
Woman  now  makes   man   what   he  is.     She  controls  him    as  babe,   boy, 
manly  sou,  brother,  lovci',  husband,  father.     Her   Influence  is  enormous. 
If  she  use  it  wisely,  she  needs  no  additional   power.     If  bhe  abuse  her 
opportunity,   she   deserves    no    additional    responsibility.      Her    womanly 
weight,  now  v/ithout   measure,  will   be   limited  to  the  value  of  a  single 
ballot,  and  her  control  over  from  two  to  live  additional  votes   forfeited. 
The  curse  of  America  to-day  is  in  the  dominated  partisan  vote — the  vote 
of  Ignorance  and  superstition.     Shall   we  help  matters  by  doubling  this 
dangerous  mass?    Free  from  the  direct  complications  and  passions  of  the 
political  arena,  the  best  wonien  may  exert  a  conservative  and  moral  influ- 
ence over  men  as  voters.     Force  her  into  the  same  bad  atmosphere,  and 
both  man  and  woman  must  inevitably  suffer  incalculable  loss.     We  know 
what  woman  can  be  in   the  'commune,'   in   'riots,'  and  on  the  'rostrum.' 
Woman  cau,  through  the  votes  of  men,  have  every  right  to  which  she  is 
entitled.    All  she  has  man  has  gladly  given  her.     It  is  his  glory  to  repre- 
sent her.     To  rob  him  of  this  right  is  to  weaken  both.     He  and  she  are 
just    now    In    danger    through    his    mistaken    courtesy."      The    argument 
presented   by    Dr.    Buckley    in   this   book    is    more   complete   and    cogent 
than   that   which    he   made    in   the   Century    Magazine   some    years   ago. 
which  Senator  George  F.  Hoar  called  "the  strongest  ever  made  against 
suffrage  for  v>-omeu."     Dr.  Buckley  closes  his  powerful  book,  and  we  our 
quotations  therefrom,  with  wliat  he  calls  his  creed:  "As  the  suffrage  is  but 
one  of  several  subjects  related  to  woman's  rights  and  privileges,  it  is  due 
to  the  writer,  as  well  as  to  the  reader,  to  state  his  creed  concerning  Avoman. 
7  lelievc  that  for  many  age.';  woman  has  been  grievously  oppressed,  and 
that  in  various  parts  of  the  world  she  is  still  oppressed.     I  believe  that 
woman's  intellectual  powers  are  equal  to  those  of  man;    that  the  same 
faculties  and  tendencies  exi.st  in  both  sexes,  and  that  some  of  them  are  the 
same  in  strength,  while  ot);eis  differ  in  strength  and  rapidity  of  action; 
that  nature  gave  to  woman  as  one  of  her  most  important  functions  that  of 
refining  man;    and  that  as  woman  is  the  chief  guardian  and  teauher  of 
children  from  their  birth,  she  is  naturally  endowed  with  greater  quickness 
of  the  senses,  of  thought,  speech,  and  watchfulness.    I  believe  in  coeduca- 
tion for  some  young  men  and  women  and  in  separate  education  for  others, 
the  selection  depending  on  the  special  characteristics  of  each,  and  in  the 
higher  education  of  wonian  and  rejoice  to  promote  it — inovidcd  that  the 
normal  dissimilarity  in  the  constitution  of  the  sexes — *a  difference  but  not 
a   scale  of  inferiority  or   sui)eriority' — is  not  Ignored  or  undorcsilmatod. 
If  that  be  not  rccogniztnl,  the   proper  characterization  of  such   culture  is 
the  lower  education.    1  behrrc  in  wonian's  right  to  enter  and  practice  the 


1010]  Booh  l^oiiccs  335 

profe-sslons;  ai)d  eoe  no  incougruity  in  her  speaking  In  any  assomhly 
vhSch  gives  her  tho  right  fO  to  do — providt^d  she  preserves  bcr  womanly 
delicacy.  /  Iclievr  iu  woman's  being  athietic,  and  that  it  is  wise  for  her 
to  urc  all  heiilthful  exercises  in  preparation  for  her  numberless  burdens, 
lUit  should  she  become  as  strong  as  Ihe  legendary  Amazons,  I  would  not 
have  her  join  the  army  or  the  navy.  On  .similar  principles  I  would  have  her 
cultivate  and  enrich  her  mind  to  the  highest  degree  compatible  with  her 
situation  and  responsibilities;  but  for  the  reasons  given  iu  this  book,  I 
bclici)c  that  neither  the  state,  the  faitiily  nor  woman  herself  would  be 
bencntcd,  but,  on  the  contrary,  Avould  be  injured,  if  she  \v-erc  invested  with 
the  KuCfrage.  /  believe  that  there  are  two  objects  in  nature  alike  obuoxiouf; 
—a  mannish  woman  and  a  womanish  man;  also  in  the  wisdom  as  well  as 
(be  v>-iL  of  tho  toast  offered  at  a  banquet,  a  da-y  after  woman  suffrage  went 
into  effect  in  one  of  the  statas  of  the  Union:  'The  Ladies:  Ovr  superiors 
yesterday,  our  equals  to-day.' "  Whoever  reads  Dr.  Buckley's  book  will 
not  need  to  read  any  other  hook  on  that  side  of  the  subject. 


HISTORY,    BIOGRAPHY,    AND    TOPOGRAPHY 

R-rcoUixtiiris.     By   Washi^^qton  Gladdhn.     Crown  Svo.   pp.  431.     Boston   and  New  York: 
llouRlitoa  Mifflin  Company.     Price,  clolh,  S2. 

In  May,  1909,  at  the  age  of  seventy-three.  Dr.  Gladden  writes:  "The 
record  of  the  family  Bible,  and  the  reflection  of  gray  hairs  in  the  looking- 
glass,  would  make  out  that  with  me  it  is  late  October;  but  the  tingle  in  my 
blood  and  the  scenery  of  the  garden  and  the  heart  insist  that  it  is  'the 
high  tide  of  the  year.' "  Nevertheless,  this  youthful  veteran  has  reached 
the  time  Vvhen  life  is  mostly  retrospect,  and  when  reminiscences  bloom 
like  purple  asters  along  the  country  roadside  in  November.  He  says  his 
story  is  that  of  an  average  American  who,  living  through  momentous 
decades,  has  been  a  sympathetic  ol)server  of  men  and  things  and  who  in 
this  volume  records  some  of  his  observations.  Such  records  and  com- 
ments, made  by  a  capable  reporter  of  and  participator  in  events,  are 
urually  of  interest  both  to  those  who,  with  him,  have  lived  through  the 
snme  period,  and  to  the  younger  generation  coming  after.  Recalling  his 
>.chool  days,  the  author  pays  this  tribute  to  one  of  his  tenchcrs:  "His  power 
of  arousing  and  inspiring  studentf;,  of  appealing  to  all  that  was  best  in 
tl)cni,  of  making  fine  ideals  of  conduct  attractive  to  them,  was  quite  e.v- 
rcptinnrJ.  He  found  me  a  listless  and  lazy  pupil;  he  left  me  with  a  zest 
for  El\idy  and  a  firm  purpose  of  self-im])rovemcnt.  It  was  a  clear  case  of 
ronvoislon,  and  vvhen  anyone  tolls  me  that  character  cannot  be  changed 
throwrch  the  operation  of  spiritual  forces  I  know  better."  One  of  the 
•iiithor'.q  college  mates  at  Williams  was  Henry  M.  Alden,  afterward  editor 
f.f  Harper's  Monthly,  of  whom  it  is  here  v/ritton:  "Alden's  forte  was  nieta- 
[(hyslcs;  he  was  supposed  to  be  occupied  mainly  with  interests  purely 
traurtceudcnial,  absoibcd  in  investigating  the  'Thingness  of  tho  Here'" — 
which  recalls  n  ven'c  of  Louis  Stevenson's  "Sjiae  Wife": 


33G  Methodist  Bevieiv  [March 

O,  I  wad  like  (o  k-ii— to  the  boggnr-wife  says  I — 
The  reason  o'  the  cause  au'  the  whorerore  o'  the  vvliy, 
\Vi'  niony  auiflur  riddle  hriuj;s  the  lear  into  my  e'e. 
— It's  gey  an'  casu  spirrin',  says  the  beggar-wife  to  mc. 

Yes,  it's  o.isy  to  ask  questions;  but  to  answer — there's  the  rub.  Yet  the 
mlud  that  doesn't  queBtion  scarchiugly  never  gets  anywhere.  Dr.  Gladden 
says  that  "if  the  Harpers  had  come  to  W'illiamstowu  in  the  lato  fifties  in- 
quiring for  a  young  man  who  would  be  a  skillful  ])urveyor  of  short  stories 
and  poems  and  sketches  for  a  popular  magazine,  the  laet  student  to  whom 
they  would  have  been  sent  was  Henry  Mills  Alden.  .  .  .  JurA  how  Aldeu 
ever  got  down  from  cloudland  to  an  editorial  chair  in  Franklin  Square  I 
have  never  been  able  to  find  out,  but  it  is  well  for  the  world  that  he  came, 
and  perhaps  the  world  has  been  the  gainer  by  his  early  residence  in  cloud- 
land.  We  get  our  best  training  for  work  in  this  world  by  living  above  it." 
In  18G0  Gladden  became  pastor  of  the  First  Congregational  Methodist 
Church  in  Brooklyn,  New  York,  a  little  company  of  seceders  from  the 
Methodist  fold  because  of  a  quarrel  about  a  minister — a  foolhardy  and 
foredoomed  enterprise,  which  recalls  Dr.  Whedon's  sarcastic  phrase,  "An 
infant  reprobate,  damned  before  it  was  born."  Y/ith  the  usual  fatuity  of 
such  foolish  folk,  this  handful  of  malcontents  called  an  untrained  boy 
named  Washington  Gladden  to  take  charge  of  them.  The  boy,  looking 
back  with  the  wisdom  of  riper  years,  writes:  "I  am  entirely  sure  now 
that  this  was  a  place  where  angels  would  have  feared  tc  tiead;  that  was 
why  I  rushed  in."  How  slavery  was  defended  as  late  as  1860  even  by 
some  Northern  men  appears  in  the  following  incident:  "One  sermon  which 
was  preached  in  one  of  tlie  most  conspicuous  pulpits  of  the  citj',  during 
that  summer,  raised  some  excitement.  The  preacher  was  the  Reverend 
Henry  J.  van  Dyke,  one  of  the  most  honored  and  influential  of  the  Presby- 
terian pastors,  father  of  Dr.  Henry  van  Dyke  of  Princeton  University,  and 
the  sermon  was  a  closely  reasoned  and  forcible  argument  to  prove  that 
abolitionism  and  infidelity  were  synonymous  terms;  that  no  man  could  be 
an  abolitionist  without  being  an  infidel.  The  argument,  of  cour.se,  was 
scriptural;  it  was  easy  to  show  that  slavery  was  a  bibliciil  institution; 
that  the  holders  of  slaves  had  in  many  cases  been  inspired  men;  and  that 
laws  under  the  imprimatur  of  Jehovah  himself  had  enjoined  slavery.  This 
was  a  demonstration  that  God  had  made  himaclf  responsible  for  the  in- 
stitution, and  that  opposition  to  it  was  rebellion  against  him.  The  logic 
was  relentless;  the  conclusion  was  one  of  many  monstrous  results,  which, 
upon  the  assumption  of  the  inerrant  authority  of  the  whole  Scripture,  are 
inescapable.  It  v.'as  tragical  to  see  a  man  of  the  acumen  of  Dr.  van  Dyke 
writhing  in  the  coils  of  such  a  conception."  Of  Emerson's  manner  in 
lecturing,  Gladdcu  says:  "His  manner  was  so  quiet  and  deliberate,  there 
was  so  little  of  what  is  called  'oratory,'  that  most  of  the  audionco.  voted  it 
tame.  His  manuscript  was  a  pile  of  loose  leaves,  which  he  fumbled  over 
and  turned  back  quite  freq\iently,  sometimes  losing  his  place.  On  an  oc- 
casion in  Boston  (he  audience  waited  a  minute  or  two  while  he  shuffled 
his   leaves.     At    last   he    found   the   sentence   he    was    hunting    for — the 


1ft  10]  Bool-  Koliccs  337 

last  sontcncc  of  his  lecture.  One  auditor  remarlcod  to  anotber,  'We  lirul 
(o  \v;iit  a  loug  tiiTiG  for  that  la^it  seutence,  but  it  was  worth  waiting  for.*  " 
Tho  writer  of  this  book  notice  once  had  to  introduce  Emersou  and  cha- 
poronc  him  through  a  lecture.  Now  and  then  the  lecturer  in  pushing  his 
loaves  about  would  shove  some  of  them  off  the  desk.  Sailing  off  through 
the  air.  they  lit  here  and  there  on  the  i)latform.  Part  of  the  chaiieron's 
function  was  to  pick  them  up  and  rci.-ace  thera  on  the  desk.  Of  Ucbert 
l^onner,  ))roprietor  of  the  Xew  York  Ledger,  Dr.  Gladden  tells  us  th^it, 
though  the  literary  quality  of  that  paper  may  net  have  been  of  the  highcs.i, 
it  was  the  owner's  purpose  to  keep  it  pine.  Bonner  said:  "1  tell  all  my 
editois  that  nothing  must  ever  appear  in  our  paper  that  would  1  rouble  my 
Scotch  Presbyterian  mother  if  she  should  read  it  after  prayer  meeting." 
In  ISTl  Gladden  came  to  Now  York  as  one  of  the  editors  of  The  Inde- 
pendent. Speaking  of  notalOe  frequenters  of  the  editorial  sanctum,  onr 
nairator  says:  "A  fresh  and  piquant  personality  v/ho  often  enhindled  our 
sjilrits  by  his  presence  was  the  Reverend  Gilbs^rt  Haven,  afterward  bisiiop 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  a  man  with  whom  it  was  delightful  to 
disagree,  and  who  had  the  happy  faculty  of  stating  with  perspicuity  tho 
things  which  j-ou  knew  you  did  not  wish  to  believe.  To  few  men  do  I 
owe  a  larger  debt  than  to  some  who  have  put  clearly  before  my  mind 
the  things  which  I  knew  to  be  untrue.  It  would  be  unfair  to  'Gil'  Haven, 
as  we  tljen  familiarly  named  him,  to  leave  the  matter  here.  I  suppose 
that  I  agreed  v.-ith  him  in  ten  matters  v\here  I  disagreed  in  one;  but  there 
were  various  theological  questions  on  v^•hich  our  differences  were  sharp, 
and  his  delightfully  incisive  and  perfectly  good-natured  way  of  defining 
those  differences  was  extremely  serviceable."  Of  the  Brooklyn  pulpit  in 
the  seventies  Dr.  Gladden  writes:  "The  })opularity  of  Mr.  Beecher  was 
still  undimmed;  it  was  difficult  to  gain  admission  to  his  church  at  any 
pi  caching-  service.  Dr.  R.  S.  Storrs  had  taken  a  new  lca.se  of  preachiug 
I'ower,  and  his  audiences,  though  less  thronged,  were  enthralled  by  his 
nuijestic  eloquence.  Talmage  was  at  the  top  of  his  fame;  his  great 
tabernacle  was  ahvays  crowded,  and  his  unparalleled  acrobatics,  physical 
and  rhetorical,  were  an  astonishment  to  many."  In  1S7S,  Dr.  Gladdi-n,  then 
a  pastor  in  Springfield,  Massachusetts,  added  to  his  worlc  as  pastor  the. 
editorship  of  a  monthly  published  there,  named  Sunday  Afternoon,  a  Maga- 
siine  for  the  Household,  the  principal  purpose  of  which  was  to  di.scu5« 
tiuch  j^ractical  problems  as  were  indicated  in  the  editor's  prospectus  thus: 
'How  to  mix  Christianity  with  human  affairs;  how  to  bring  salvaticn  to 
the  people  who  need  it  most;  how  to  loake  peace  between  the  employer 
and  the  workman;  how  to  help  the  poor  without  pauperizing  them;  how 
to  rrtuove  the  curse  of  drunkenness;  how  to  get  the  church  into  closer 
rol.itions  with  the  people  to  whom  Christ  preached  the  gospel;  how  to 
keep  otir  religion  from  degenerating  into  art,  or  evaporating  into  ecstasy, 
or  stifffning  into  dogmatism,  and  to  make  it  a  regenerating  force  in  human 
.•^oclf-ty — these  are  some  of  the  questions  to  be  asked  and  answered."  A 
]iT<  tty  urtr'"nl  list  of  qucsiions.  now  as  then.  When  Gladden  moved  from 
the  hill  country  of  New  England  to  Columbus,  Ohio,  he  was  for  a  time 
depressed  by  the  cIi.it^c^c  of  scenery.    Hear  him:  "The  hills  to  which  I  had 


3 38  Mcilwd'isi  licvicw  ["J^farcli 

been  \\'ont  to  lift  up  my  eyes,  and  from  which  had  often  come  my  help, 
were  nov.here  in  ?ight;  the  flatness  aiul  monotony  of  the  hiudscape  wero 
a  perpetual  wearine'js.  I  put  all  this  out  of  my  thought  as  much  as  I  could, 
but,  at  first,  it  was  hard  to  bear.  The  time  came  when  this  craving  ceased 
to  give  me  pain,  and  I  have  learned  to  take  great  pleasure  in  the  quieter 
beauty  of  these  fertile  plains  and  rivor-bottoms,  and  can  now  fully  under- 
stand why  the  Hollanders  find  a  keen  delight  in  their  own  flat  country, 
and  why  the  artistic  i7ni)ul<ic  has  flourished  there  far  more  splendidhf  than 
in  Sicitzerland;  but  nothing  of  this  was  credible  to  me  in  those  first 
months  in  Columbus."  In  1S93  Dr.  Gladden  was  the  Yale  lecturer  on  the 
Lyman  Eeecher  Foundation,  the  lectures  being  published  under  the  title, 
"Tools  and  the  Man:  Property  and  Industry  under  the  Christian  Law." 
He  also  gave  a  course  of  lectures  at  our  Drew  Theological  Seminary  on 
"Christianity  and  Socialism."  Discuf^sing  the  Negro  problem  as  it  stands 
to-day,  Dr.  Gladden  says:  "If  the  main  thing  to  be  done  for  the  Negro  is 
to  keep  him  in  .'gnoiance  and  sulijection,  t'lat  is  a  task  which  requires 
no  great  amount  of  art— nothing  but  hard  hearts  and  brutal  wills.  There 
is  physical  force  enough  in  the  nation  to  hold  him  down  for  a  while;  how 
long  that  dominion  would  last  I  will  not  try  to  tell.  The  civilization  built 
on  that  basis  will  fall,  and  great  will  be  the  fall  of  it.  We  have  had  our 
admouition  already— a  war  (hat  cost  six  hundred  thousand  lives  and 
twelve  billions  of  doilar.s — and  the  bills  are  not  paid  yet.  That  is  a  slice 
of  the  retribution  due  for  trying  to  build  a  civilization  on  prostrate  man- 
hood. If  we  are  not  satisfied  with  that,  if  we  insist  on  trying  the  same 
experiment  over  again  in  a  slightly  different  form,  another  day  of  judg- 
ment will  come,  and  will  not  tarry.  V/e  shall  get  it  hammered  into  our 
heads  one  of  these  days  that  this  is  a  moral  universe;  not  that  it  is 
going  to  be,  by  and  by,  but  that  it  is  moral  now,  moral  all  through,  in 
tissue  and  fiber,  in  gristle  and  bone,  in  muscle  and  brain,  in  sensation  and 
thought;  and  that  no  injustice  fails  to  get  its  due  recompense,  now  and 
here.  The  n^cral  law  admonishes  us  not  to  make  our  fellow  man  our 
tool,  our  tributary,  'Tlrou  shalt  treat  humanity' — it  is  Kant's  great  saying 
— 'ever  as  an  end,  never  as  a  means  to  thine  own  selfish  end.'  Disobey 
that  law,  and  the  consequence  falls.  Evade  it  no  man  ever  does  for  so  long 
as  the  v\-ink  of  an  eyelid.  Its  penalty  smites  him  with  lightning  stroke; 
he  is  instantly  degraded,  beclouded,  weakened  by  his  disobedience.  Virtue 
has  gone  out  of  him;  the  slow  decay  is  at  work  by  which  his  manhood  is 
despoiled.  Tlie  same  lav/  holds  in  all  realms.  It  is  as  sure  and  stern  in 
its  dealing  with  races  as  with  persons.  The  stronger  race  that  tries  to 
treat  the  weaker  not  as  an  end,  but  as  a  means  to  its  own  selfish  ends, 
plucks  swift  judgment  from  the  skies  upon  its  own  head.  On  such  a  race 
there  will  surely  fall  the  mildew  of  moral  decay,  the  pestilence  of  social 
corruption,  the  blight  of  its  civilization,  lliis  is  not  Northern  fanaticism. 
It  is  a  truth  which  has  been  uttered  more  than  once,  with  the  emphasis  of 
conviction,  by  strong  men  in  the  South.  It  is  not  the  view  which  prevails 
there  today,  but  it  is  a  view  which  is  held  there  by  a  strong  minority  of 
the  ablest  men,  and  it  must  ))revail.  There  are  men  at  the  South  to-day 
who  know  and  say  that  the  task  which  the  Negro  prer-euts  to  the  South 


lOJO] 


Bool-  X (it ices  339 


and  the  nation  is  not  the  task  of  keeping  him  in  subjection,  but  the  task 
oi:  lifting  him  to  manhoocl  and  giving  him  the  rights  and  rcspoui^ibilitcs 
that  belong  to  a  man.     'The  best  Southern  people,'  says  President  Alder- 
man, of  the  University  of  Virginia,  'are  too  Nvise  not  to  know  that  posterity 
will  judge  thein  according  to  the  v/isdom  they  use  in  this  great  concern. 
Tlicy  are  too  just  not  to  know  that  there  is  but  one  thing  to  do  with  a 
human  being,  and  that  is  to  give  him  a  chance.' "    Dr.  Gladden  quotes  also 
the  wipe  and  jioble  words  of  President  Kilgo.  of  Trinity  College,  North 
Carolina,  on  behalf  of  the  Negro:  "He  lifts  his  dusky  face  to  the  face  of 
his  superior,  and  asks  why  he  may  not  be  .given  the  right  to  grow  as 
weiras  dogs  and  horses  and  cows.    For  a  superior  race  to  hold  down  an 
inferior  one  that  the  superior  race  may  have  the  services  of  the  inferior 
was  the  social  doctrine  of  mediievalism.     Americans  cannot  explain  why 
they  shudder  at  ihe  horrors  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries,  and  arc 
themselves  content  to  keep  the  weak  in  their  weakness  in  order  that  the 
strong  mav  rule  better."    Dr.  Gladden  has  no  sympathy  with  the  demand 
for  a  big  navy.     He  believes  that  the   day   of  disarmament  among  the 
nations  is  nigh,  and  that  our  nation  is  called  of  God  to  take  the  initiative 
in  it.     He  also  is  not  blind  to  Theodore  Roosevelt's  limitations.     Yet  he 
calls  him  "the  most  forceful  figure  yet  seen  in  our  national  history,"  and 
he  savs  no  other  man  has  done  so  much  to  promote  peace  on  earth,  citing 
in  evHience  "that  glorious  deed  by  which  he  put  an  end  to  the  war  be- 
twpon  Kussia  and  Japan;   the  return  of  the  indemnity  mouey  to  China; 
the  convention  with  Japan,  negotiated  by  Elihu  Root,  but  giving  expres- 
sion to  Roosevelt's  good  will."     Dr.  Gladdeu  wonders  whether  any  man 
with  such  tremendous  energies  as  Roosevelt's,  always  in  full  play,  ever 
made  fewer  mistakes;   and  he  is  sure  that  "no  other  man  since  Lincoln 
has  poured  into  the  life  of  this  nation  such  a  stream  of  vitalizing  in- 
lluencc."     Speaking  of  the  conditions  which  Mr.  Roosevelt  faced,  at  the 
beginning  of  his  administration,  the  autlior  says:   "Vast  combinations  of 
wealth,  created  bv  the  law  and  endowed  with  superhuman  powers,  were 
using  these  powers  for  purposes  of  spoliation— plundering  the  many  for 
the  enrichment  of  the  few.     To  disentangle  this  piratical  busines.'^  from 
honest  business,  to  protect  legitimate  enterprise  and  itrevent  and  punish 
predatory  schemes— this  was  the  task  set  before  him.     Clearly,  this  must 
somehow  bo  done;  unless  it  could  be,  democratic  government  was  a  failure. 
And  Mr.Roosevelt  addressed  himself  to  this  Herculean  task  with  a  courage, 
a  determination,  and  an  enthusiasm  which  have  won  for  him  the  admira- 
tion of  the  world.    The  men  who  have  been  making  enormous  fortunes  by 
piratical  methods,  and  those  who  have  wished  to  do  so,  have  been  gieatly 
»•!> raged  by  Mr.  Roosevelt's  activity;  they  hate  him  with  a  perfect  hatred. 
niuS  with  honest  cause;  they  have  done  what  they  could  to  discredit  and 
destroy  liim.     But  the  people  know  that  he  has  made  no  war  on  honest 
Industry;    ihat  he  lias  only  sought  to  put  an  end  to  plunder  and  to  give 
vvery  ni;-n  a  fair  chance.    The  Roo.sevelt  jiolicies  are  fairly  well  understood 
by  the  jtcople,  and  any  attempt  to  recede  from  them  v.ill  provoke  a  reac- 
tion which  will  nut  bv?  profitable  to  tlie  o))posing  interests.    The  Roosevelt 
jiolioies  mean  simply  huncsty,  justice,  fair  play;  and  any  bu.siness  which 


310  Mclhodht  Bcviev)  []\[arcli 

is  too  big  to  leavn  these  lessons  is  too  big  to  live  in  this  countrj'.  .  .  .  We 
had  laws  enougli  to  prevent  all  these  robberies;  they  were  pi-actically  a 
dead  letter;  it  was  the  will  of  Theodore  Roo.sevolt  that  gave  them  life 
and  power."  We  end  our  quotations  from  Dr.  Gladden's  interesting  book 
with  this  bit:  "V/e  hear  people,  in  these  days,  denying  the  supernatural. 
It  is  a  little  as  if  the  planets  should  proclaim  that  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  si)aco,  or  as  if  the  rivers  should  declare  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
water.  We  cannot  lay  our  hand  on  life  anywhere  without  feeling  tlic 
thrill  of  that  SoMininxc  VlOV-y.  whirh  underlies  all  law  and  eludes  all  jiliys- 
ical  analysis."  A  stirring  and  gladdening  collection  of  recollections  is  this 
volume. 

A  Memoir  oj  the  HirjJd  Honorable  Willuim  Tuhrard  Ilartpo:,'.  T.rcl:y      By  Jiis  \\\ic      Crown 
S\o      New  York:  Longinua.s,  Given  A  Cn,    Piicc,  clolh,  wit'.)  portrait,  S2  50,  net. 

The  finest  of  recent  biograi)hio.^  in  America  is  that  of  Alice  Freeman 
Palmer  by  her  husband.  One  cf  the  finest  of  recent  biographies  in  England 
is  this  memoir  of  W.  E.  H.  Lecky  by  his  wife.  Both  books  ai-e  models 
of  good  taste,  sincerity,  discretion,  and  modei'ation;  though  the  former 
is  a  more  intimate  revealing,  and  has  the  greater  charm  and  the  more 
vivid  warmth,  which  is  partly  due,  no  doubt,  to  the  fact  that  it  is  a 
v.'oman's  life.  Lecky's  life  was  an  extraordinary  example  of  carefully 
economized  forces.  A  fair,  fpiict,  gentle,  studious  boy,  with  intellectual 
tastes,  tliere  v.as  notliiug  of  the  riotous  young  barbarian  in  him.  He  was 
KO  sensitive  that  the  roush  contacts  of  school  life  sometimes  drove  him 
to  distraction,  and  harsh  city  noit^es  were  a  disire-^s  to  him  all  his  life. 
A  lifelong  studi-iit,  he  often  took  his  books  and  hid  away  somewhere,  far 
from  everybody  he  knew;  and  especially,  he  says,  "in  long  solitary  moun- 
tain walks  I  calmed  my  mind  and  systematized  my  thoughts."  A  very 
significant  phrase  is  that— "sy.steraalizing  my  thoughts" — no  discipline 
of  the  mind  is  more  important.  It  gave  to  Lecky's  writing  and  speaking 
the  qualities  of  clarity,  consocutivenes.s,  and  a  sense  of  proportion.  The 
power  to  systematize  one's  thoughts  distingui.shes  the  master  from  the 
tyro.  Only  he  who  has,  by  self-training,  acquired  such  mastery  and 
orderliness  of  mind  can  properly  be  called  a  thinker.  The  best  way  of 
acquiring  this  power  is  to  write  or  to  prepare  for  public  speaking.  Then 
a  man  is  compelled  to  arrange  his  thoughts  by  some  rule  or  principle  of 
rntional  coordinatioji.  The  men  who  have  to  speak  in  public  or  to  write 
are  under  necessity  of  systematizing  their  thoughts  and  have  the  best 
))ossible  opportuniiy  for  becoming  thinkers.  Lecky  was  fond  of  oratory, 
and  liked  to  take  the  opposite  siile  in  an  argumcut.  One  of  his  devices 
for  stimulating  the  brain  was  to  write  Icnccling  on  a  sofa,  in  order  to 
ehut  0!'f  circulation  from  tlie  lower  limbs  and  so  force  ruore  blood  to 
his  head.  At  twenty-two  be  had  v;ritteu  his  History  of  Rationalism, 
and  at  thirty  his  History  of  Euroiiean  Morals,  and  had  a  permanent 
j'h'ce  :imong  great  historians.  His  History  of  England  in  the  Eighteenth 
Century  came  later.  His  last  l)ook  was  made  up  of  moral  meditations 
and  rullection?,,  and  entitled  The  Map  of  Liiie.  That  this  great  scholar 
did  not  believe  in  being  all  head  and  no  heart,  appears  in  this  criticism: 


1010]  Booh  Koticcs  341 

"Some  people  are  mere  aspiring  intellects,  like  the  pictures  of  clieru- 
bims  by  tho  old  mr.sters — heads  and  vings  and  nothing  more."  In  earlj- 
life  his  head  was  very  full  of  theologj-  and  ho  inclined  toward  a 
clerical  career,  but  for  this  his  too  delicate  physique  unfitted  him. 
The  faith  that  was  in  the  young  scholar  speaks  in  a  letter  from  the 
top  of  the  Rigi:  "The  evidences  of  Christianity  are  irresistible.  .  .  , 
I  believe  that  it  is  a  man's  duty  to  prove  his  creed,  to  so-'dv  for  truth 
ifvcrently,  humbly,  and  sincerely,  praying  for  the  guidance  of  the  enlight- 
ening Spirit,  and,  by  good  works,  seeking  for  himself  the  fulfillment  of 
tho  promise,  'He  that  doeth  the  will  of  my  Father  shall  know  the  doctrine, 
whether  it  be  of  God.'  "  Wlieu  friends  suggested  to  young  Lecky  the  law 
as  a  profession  he  responded:  "I  have  no  interest  in  it.  I  should  hato 
doing  people's  quarrels  for  them;  and  the  very  highest  position  for  a 
lawyer — Chief  Justice  of  the  Queen's  Bench — would,  I  should  think,  be 
intolerable."  Like  other  sensitive  and  conscientious  workmen,  Lecky 
had  his  fits  of  dissatisfaction  with  his  work,  and  moments  of  discourage- 
ment. Once  he  wrote,  "As  a  v/riter  I  have  failed  so  egiegiously,  utterly, 
and  hnpclcssly  that  I  have  lost  almost  every  particle  of  confidence  and 
cournne  1  ever  possessed."  But  he  struggled  out  of  that  Slough  of 
Despond,  and  not  very  long  after,  with  cliastened  self-confidence,  steadier 
purpose,  and  more  patient  peisistence,  he  began  the  laborious  though 
congenial  task  of  v.-riting  his  History  of  Rationalism.  Shortly  after  this 
he  wrote  to  a  friend:  '"Those  who  try  to  do  their  duty  find  in  the 
cITort  its  own  reward;  it  dispels  every  fear,  it  dispenses  with  restless 
ambition.  Not  all  ci^ai  be  great  teachers,  preachers,  or  philanthropists, 
but  all,  if  they  labor  honestly  and  self-sacrificingly,  ca;i  do  something  in 
two  great  fields  of  duty — the  alleviation  of  sorrow  and  the  correction  of 
error."  Once  he  told  a  friend,  'So  far,  I  have  never  succeeded  in  being 
even  approximately  happy,  except  v.-hen  working  hard."  In  Rome  Lecky 
heard  Dupanloup  of  Orleans  preach  to  enormoiis  crowds,  and  wrote,  "He 
preaches  lilie  a  charge  of  cavalry,  very  fiery,  but  sometimes  very  touch- 
ingly,  and  sometimes  in  an  odd,  familiar,  discursive  style."  On  the 
progress  toward  materialism  in  France,  Lecky  once  wrote,  'The  French 
are  at  present  discussing  with  terrific  energy  the  question  whether  they 
ajo  mini  or  matter,  and  (under  the  guidance  of  Rensn,  Littre,  and  Taine) 
arc  coming  very  rapidly  to  the  conclusion  that  they  are  oj'.ly  matter." 
Even  when  his  History  of  Rationalism  had  been  completed  and  was 
making  him  famous,  Lecky  wrote,  in  a  fit  of  disgust  due  to  reaction  from 
jTolouged  effort,  "I  am  so  sick  of  writing.  It  is  dreary,  frigid  occupation. 
1  f'-el  like  throwing  pen,  ink,  and  paper  into  the  fire."  Lecky's  pen  had 
:.  sliari)  point.  "SVhen  some  criticism  of  his  views  appeared  in  The 
Anthropological  Review,  he  referred  to  it  as  "a  review  sot  u]).  I  believe, 
by  eoHie  scientific  gentlemen  who  say  they  are  monkcy.s."  He  tell.-^  us 
«".irlyio'H  characterization  of  August  Comte  as  "the  giuislliest  algebniic 
/actor  that  «-ver  was  taken  for  a  man."  Lecky  tells  us  th:it  Herbert  Spencer 
was  very  coufidi-ni  when  In;  was  writing  his  Sociology  that  it  would  be  a 
ronipl(;te  cxplan:ition  of  life;  bat  while  explaining  life  Sitencer  (piite  fo:;,'ot 
the  exihteuce  of  domestic  rdcitions,  and  had  to  ])Ut  tlicm  in  as  an  after- 


"42  Method! si  Bcview  [March 

thougbt,  and  then  try  to  explain  that  apparently  unimportant  part  of  hu- 
man life,  which,  of  course,  he  did  as  completely  as  he  explained  the  rest. 
Believinj;  as  he  did  in  the  inferiority  of  woman,  the  place  of  the  home  in 
human  society  natuially  did  not,  for  a  long  time,  occur  to  Spencer;  still, 
a  gentleman  who  proposes  to  make  a  complete  explanation  of  life  would 
do  well  to  take  the  wojiien  and  the  home  into  his  account.  The  world 
has  been  overburdened  with  explanations  that  did  not  explain:  and 
ambitious  philosophers-  like  Spencer  have  furnished  a  large  proportion 
of  the  same.  Huxley  was  another  very  positive  and  downright  old 
dogmatist  who  held  strongly  that  m-^u  are  greatly  superior  to  women,  not 
only  intellectually,  but  also  morally,  and  in  point  of  personal  beauty; 
which,  Lecky  thinks,  "must  be  very  consolatory  to  us  men."  What  ungal- 
kint  old  curmudgeons  some  of  these  "scientific  gents"  are!  Lecky  was  by 
nature  and  by  conviction  an  intuitive  philosopher,  and  the  belief  in  an 
original  and  innate  moral  faculty  was  the  keynote  of  his  life,  When 
some  of  his  constituents  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  inquired  concerning 
his  religious  creed,  he  replied,  "I  am  a  Christian,"  and  declined  to  go 
into  particrilars.  Lecky  spent  much  time  in  Italy.  Writing  to  a  friend 
from  Naples  in  1870,  he  gives  this  story  about  Pope  Pius  IX:  "People  at 
Rome  were  a  good  deal  amused  and  rather  scandalized  at  an  odd  pro- 
ceeding of  the  Pope's  about  six  weeks  ago.  A  hideous  little  African  bishop, 
all  speckled  with  smallpox,  was  presented  to  him,  and  the  Pope  asked 
what  language  he  spoke,  and  was  told  that  the  bishop  neither  spoke  nor 
understood  any  but  his  ov,u.  Whereupon  the  Pope  said  in  Italian,  in  a 
solemn  tone  as  if  he  was  giving  a  benediction,  'Then  since  you  do  not 
understand  me,  I  may  say  this  is  the  ugliest  son  of  Christ  I  have  ever 
seen.' "  About  the  decree  of  papal  infallibility,  after  its  proclamation 
by  the  Council,  Lecl:y  wrote:  "By  committing  itself  to  the  infallibility 
of  the  long  line  of  Popes,  the  Roman  Church  cut  itself  off  from  the  his- 
torical spirit  and  from  the  learning  of  our  age,  and  exposed  itself  to 
crushing  and  unansvN-erable  refutations."  And  again  he  said:  "Catholicism 
is  rapidly  becoming  incredible  to  all  intelligent  minds.  The  prospects  of 
Protestantisna  are  better  than  they  have  ever  been  since  the  end  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  All  political  changes  tend  to  make  Protestant  nations 
more  and  more  the  m.agnets  and  the  rulers  of  the  world;  and  the  infalli- 
bility decree  is  sending  large  numbers  of  Romanists  in  the  same 
direction."  After  the  close  of  the  Franco-Prussian  war,  which  the  Vatican 
helped  to  precipitate,  Lecky  wrote:  "I  think  that  the  calm,  patriotic, 
unboastful  enthusiasm  which  the  Germans  have  shown,  their  manifest 
love  of  peace,  and  their  simple  piety  in  the  hour  of  victory,  have  been 
very  noble.  .  .  .  France  was  utterly  wrong  in  the  war,  and  she  began  it 
with  an  amount  of  boasting  and  of  lying  that  was  revolting  to  the  last 
degree."  Of  the  Irish,  this  historian  said,  "Tlie  most  affectionate,  imagina- 
tive, and  quick-witted  race  I  have  ever  known."  Lecky  was  troubled 
over  "the  secularization  of  Oxford— chapel  no  longer  compulsory,  the  truth 
of  Christianity,  the  existence  of  God,  and  the  immortality  of  the  S'^ul 
made  subject.^  of  unrestricted  dispute.  A  strange  seething  is  going  on. 
and   when  (>ne   considers  that  the  present  of  its  universities   is   in  great 


]f>]0]  Bool:  Notices  343 

ineasiire  the  future  of  a  nation  one  is  perplexed  to  think  what  is  coming." 
In  illustration  of  the  absurdities  of  Episrcpalianism  we  are  told  of  the 
Anglican  bir-^liop,  Phillpotls,  who  maintained  that  in  cemeteries  it  was 
essential  that  there  should  be  a  wall  at  least  four  feet  high  between  the 
Episcopalian  and  the  non-Episcojxalian  corpses.  Lecky  did  not  enjoy  being 
in  politics.  He  said,  "I  have  neither  the  business  faculty  nor  the  cal- 
lousness required  for  such  a  career."  The  seven  years  when  he  was  sitting 
in  the  British  Parliament  as  member  from  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  were 
hardly  happy  ones.  In  the  winter  of  1S95  he  writes  a  friend:  "The  work 
is  physically  very  tiring,  and  I  often  feel  that  a  good  deal  of  it  might  be 
done  equally  well,  with  a  little  training,  by  a  fairly  intelligent  poodle 
dog."  This  great  historian  died  quietly  sitting  in  his  library,  October  22, 
VjO?,.  At  Nuremberg  in  1S75  he  saw  on  a  tomb  this  epitaph:  "I  will  arise. 
O  God,  when  thou  callest  me,  but  let  me  rest  a  while,  for  I  am  very 
weary."  lu  his  commonplace  book  on  the  last  day  of  the  year  Lecky  once 
wrote:  "T  am  thinking  of  the  prayer  of  the  Breton  sailors,  'My  God,  ray 
God,  help  me:  the  sea  is  so  great  and  mj'  bark  is  so  small!'  The  sea  of 
thought,  the  sea  of  life,  the  sea  of  death — ."  But  he  hoped  to  see  his 
Pilot  face  to  face  when  he  had  crossed  the  bar. 

The  German  Eianent  in  the   United  Stales      By  Albert  Beknh.^.rdt  Facst.     Two  volumes, 
Svo.     Boston  and  New  York;  Koughlon  Mifflin  Company.     Price,  S7.oO. 

There  are  few  subjects  of  more  intense  interest  or  historical  value 
than  the  investigation  of  the  various  racial  elements  that  enter  into  the 
makeup  of  the  so-called  American  nation.  Never  in  the  world's  history 
has  such  a  strange  conglomeration  of  various  races  been  brought  together 
in  such  a  short  space  of  time.  "What  the  final  result  of  such  a  mingling 
of  different  national  characteristics  will  be  no  one  can  prophesy.  At  any 
rate,  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  know  that  the  vast  majority  of  such  elements 
belong  to  the  various  forms  of  the  Teutonic  race,  English,  Dutch,  and 
German.  The  story  of  the  English  and  Dutch  contributions  to  our  na- 
tional life  and  history  has  been  often  told;  that  of  the  German  element 
Iki.s  not  been  discussed  in  the  same  thorough  way  until  com)>aratively 
icctnt  times.  We  already  have  had  the  valuable  books  from  such  men  as 
Scidcnsticker,  Lciher,  Kapp,  and  especially  the  various  volume.-?  of  the 
Pennsylvania  German  Society.  In  this  way  we  have  had  a  pretty  full  dis- 
cussion of  one  narrow  clement  in  the  United  States,  that  of  the  so-called 
Pennsylvania  ]3utch.  These  people,  as  everyone  knows,  are  the  descend- 
ants of  the  Germans  and  Swiss  who  immigrated  to  Pennsylvania  before 
the  American  Revolution,  and  later  overflowed  into  Virginia.  North  and 
South  Carolina,  :\Iaryland,  and  the  West.  In  the  crucible  of  the  Ilcvolu- 
tion  they  wore  completely  Americanized,  although  many  still  retain  their 
dialect  and  quaint  religious  and  social  customs.  The  later  immigrations 
of  Goimons,  thi.se  of  tlic  nineteenth  century,  have  never  up  to  the  present 
been  investigated  with  the  same  thoroughness  as  those  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Dutch.  Hapi)i!y,  this  slate  of  things  no  longer  exists,  and  we  have 
in  the  present  volume  what  may  be  called  a  ddtnitive  discussion  of  the 
whole  subject  of  the  influenco  of  the  Germans  on  our  national  life,  from 


344  ]\Ie(JiocliH  Review  [March 

the  earliest  times  down  to  tlie  present.  The  book  itself  in  its  original  form 
was  submitted  in  competition  for  one  of  three  prizes,  offered  in  1004  by 
Mrs.  Catherine  Seipp,  of  Chicago,  for  the  best  monographs  on  the  Germaa 
element  in  the  United  States.  The  first  prize,  of  three  thousand  dollars, 
was  awarded  to  the  author.  Professor  A.  B.  Fau.st  of  Cornell  Univerbity. 
Few  men  were  better  prepared  to  undertake  this  worlc  than  Professor 
Faust.  Born  in  this  country  of  German  parents,  using  both  En^ilish  and 
German  with  equal  facility,  a  giaduate  of  Johns  Hopkins  Univer.sity,  for 
many  years  in  charge  of  the  German  department  at  Wcsleyf.n  University, 
and  at  present  in  the  same  department  at  Cornell  University,  he  has  had 
unusual  opportunities  for  pursuing  his  investigations.  Add  to  this  his 
indomitable  industry,  logical  habits  of  mind,  clear  and  interesting  style, 
and  tJie  fact  that  for  ten  years  he  has  been  actively  engaged  in  the  v.-ork 
of  inveotigaling  the  influence  of  tlie  Germi-ns  in  this  country,  and  we  are 
not  surprised  that  his  boolc  v/as  awarded  the  first  prize.  This  feeling  is 
intensified  as  we  loolc  over  tliese  handsome  volumes,  with  their  numerous 
illustrations.  The  enormous  mass  of  material  has  been  carefully  sifted 
and  arranged  under  appropriate  headings,  vohune  one  being  devoted  to 
the  historical  outline  of  the  subject,  while  volume  tv.'o  covers  the  cultur- 
Jiistorisciic  part.  Talcing  up  the  fir«t  volume,  we  see  pass  before  us  the 
varioas  .streams  of  German  immigration:  those  to  the  Mohawk  and  Scho- 
harie Valleys  in  New  York  State;  the  vast  movement  that  made  Penn- 
sylvania almost  Teutonic  in  its  characteristics;  the  secondary  migrations 
from  Pennsylvania  to  Maryland,  Virginia,  and  the  Carolinas;  and  the  later 
streams,  grouped  together  in  Chapters  Xll  lo  XV,  under  the  general  title 
of  "The  Winning  of  the  West."  In  this  same  volume  is  likewise  given 
the  military  record  of  the  Germans  in  the  Revolution  and  tlie  v/ars  of 
the  nineteenth  centurj'.  Volume  two  discusses  the  general  influence  on 
the  various  phases  of  American  industrial,  social,  leligicus,  and  political 
life.  On  the  material  side  we  have  discuiisions  of  the  prominence  of  th9 
Germans  in  agriculture,  mining,  manufacture  of  iron  and  steel,  musical 
instruments,  naval  architf;cture,  and  a  dozen  other  lines  of  work.  Chapter 
IV  discusses  the  political  in.^uence  of  the  German  clement,  while  a  similar 
discussion  of  the  same  innuence  on  education  forms  the  subject  of  Chapter 
V.  Both  these  chapters  tend  to  dis))el  many  false  impres'jious  hitherto 
entertained  in  respect  to  the  German-Americans.  The  religious  lifo  of  the 
Germans  and  their  influcnc'  on  America)!  denominations  is  not  treated 
as  fully  as  v.-e  should  like,  only  twenty  pages  being  devoted  lo  that  sub- 
ject in  volume  two,  in  connection  with  the  "joy  of  living,"  "philanthropy," 
"Germ:in  American  Women"  and  "German  Traits,"  all  grouped  together 
in  Chapter  VllI  under  the  general  title  of  "Social  and  Moral  Influence  of 
the  German  Element."  Taking  the  book  as  a  whole,  it  can  be  most 
heartily  recommended.  It  is  scholarly,  interesting,  and  contains  the  re- 
sults not  merely  of  work  done  by  others  but  of  a  large  amount  of  originil 
investigation  on  the  ])art  of  the  autlior.  It  is  the  best  general  treatment 
of  the  subject  thus  far  produced  iu  this  or  any  other  country. 


METHODIST   REVIEW 


MAY,  1910 


Art.  I.— JOHN  HEXKY  XE^\\AIAX:  IIOW  HE  FOUXI)  A' 
LIGHT  AMID  THE  EXCIECLIXG  GL00:AI 

While  the  subject  of  this  stiiclv  was  yet  a  lad,  ke  read  Xrwton 
On  the  Prophecies.  The  impression  left  on  his  mind  by  the  book 
was  that  the  Pope  of  Rome  was  unqnestioiiaUy  the  Antichrist  pre- 
dicted by  the  biblical  writers.  The  sentiment  was  of  a  piece  with 
tlic  modined  Cnh-inism  in  which  already  his  youthful  mind  had 
been  steeped.  Fom-teen  or  fifteen  years  later  than  this,  just  after 
ho  had  paid  a  visit  to  the  Imperial  Git}''  and  while  he  was  recover^ 
iiig  from  a  serioiis  illness  at  Palermo,  lie  voiced  his  feelings  in  the 
wish,  ■^'O  that  thy  creed  were  sound,  thou  Church  of  Pome!" 
Early  in  ISIO  he  published  an  article  in  the  British  Crilic  in 
which  he  wroie: 

We  sec  Rome  attempting  to  gain  converts  among  n.-^  by  unreal  repre- 
!5ontations  of  its  doctrines,  plausible  statements,  and  bold  assertions.  .  .  . 
We  sec  it.s  agents,  smiling  and  nodding  and  ducking  to  attract  attention 
as  gyi>Bies  make  up  to  truant  boys,  holding  out  tales  for  the  nursery,  and 
pretty  pictures,  and  gilt  ginger-bread,  and  physic  concealed  in  jam,  and 
sugar-i)luras  for  good  children.  .  .  .  Wo  Englishmen  like  manliness, 
opcuness,  consi;^tency,  truth. 

On  January  S,  1S45,  Xcwnum  wrote  a  letter  to  a  lady  who 
afterward  became  a  X^un  of  tlie  Visitation.  The  letter  contains 
the  following  clau-^cs : 

The  simple  question  is,  Can  I  (it  is  personal,  not  v.-hethcr  another, 
but  can  I)  be  saved  in  the  English  Church?  Am  I  in  safely,  were  I  to  die 
to-night?  js  it  a  mortal  sin  in  ?/;e,  not  joining  another  [the  Komaa]  com- 
uunnoa? 

315 


346  }fethodisl  nevicw  []\laj 

Years  later,  in  a  sermon,  he  si)eaks  of  the  )-cligion  of  "The  Catholic 
Koman  Church"  in  such  a  strain  as  this : 

She  has  adoringlj'  surveyed  our  Lord,  feature  by  feature,  .lud  has  pai.i 
a  separate  homage  to  him  iu  every  one.  She  has  made  us  honor  his  five 
wounds,  his  precious  blood,  and  his  sacred  heart.  .  .  .  She  has  soutrht 
out  and  placed  before  us  Ihe  memorials  of  his  life  and  death:  his  crib 
end  holy  house;  his  holy  tunic;  the  handiaTchief  of  Saint  Veronica;  the 
cross  and  its  nails;  his  winding-sheet,  and  the  napkiu  for  his  head. 

And  ngali],  in  the  Apologia,  ho  ^n•itc3  : 

I  did  not  believe  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation  till  I  was  a  Catholic. 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  belipving  it  as  soon  as  I  believed  that  the  Catholic 
Roman  Church  was  the  oracle  of  God,  and  that  she  had  declared  this  doc- 
trine to  be  pai't  of  the  original  revelation. 

And  he  whose  spiritual  struggles  aiid  experiences  are  indicated  bj 
the  foregoing  paragTaphs,  writing  of  it  all  in  an  autobiograi)hv 
that  will  never  cease  to  claim  its  readers,  tells  ns  that  the  struggle 
ended  v/ith  "perfect  peace  and  couteutmeut,"  and  that,  safe  in  the 
bosom  of  ]\J.other  Church,  he  felt  as  the  storm-tossed  mariner  feek 
when  he  drops  his  anchor  in  the  sheltered  haven. 

To  trace  at  gi-eater  length  the  ste])s  by  which  one  who  began 
his  career  v\-ith  the  couvictioji  tliat  the  Pope  was  Antichrist  eventu- 
ally reached  the  other  convictioD,  tliat  that  same  Pope  was  vested 
wltli  the-niost  regal  ])owe)-s  by  God  hinuelf,  may  prove  to  be  a  task 
not  altogether  wanting  in  interest  and  instruction.  Xor  is  the  task 
without  a  certain  element  of  pathos,  for  it  reveals  the  sight  of  a 
great  soul  and  an  eai-ne-t  wrestling  grimly  witli  haunting  doubt, 
at  last  ceasing  the  struggle  less  by  solving  the  real  questions  at 
issue  than  by  submilling  to  their  arbitrary  solution  by  another. 
IsTo  proper  appreciation  of  the  mental  movement  of  Newman  can 
be  arrived  at  apart  from  a  knowledge  of  the  facts  of  his  life.  The 
transition  from  Calvinism  through  Anglicanism  to  Romanism  was 
not  made  suddenly.  The  whole  i^weep  of  his  life  for  at  least  a 
quarter  of  a  century  was  in  the  direction  of  Rome.  His  friond- 
Bhips  and  his  historical  .'■tudies  united  with  his  temperamental 
peculiarities  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the  retractation  and  the 
resignation  of  18-13,  and  the  Romish  ordination  of  IS  10,  appear  to 
be  the  logical  and  even  the  inevitable  outcome  of  all  tliat  had  gone 
before.    In  Xewman's  case  the  inner  life  and  the  outward  circum- 


1910]  Jolin  II envy  Xcwman  347 

stances  are  vitally  comiecieJ.  Tboy  admit  of  no  separation  if  wo 
would  understand  tbe  tragedy  of  his  life.  The  source  from  which 
must  ever  be  drawn  any  true  insight  into  the  character  of  Xewman 
must,  of  courpe,  always  be  the  fascinating  Apologia  Pro  Vita  Sua. 
In  January  of  ISGi  Charles  Kingsley  published  in  Macuiillan's 
llagazine  a  review  of  Fronde's  History  of  England.  In  this 
article  the  author  made  the  statement  that  '"'truth  for  its  own  sake 
had  never  been  a  virtue  with  the  I\oraan  clergy.  Father  Xewman 
informs  us  that  it  need  not,  and,  on  the  whole,  ought  not,  to  be." 
It  was  because  of  this  and  similar  attacks  that  Xewman  b)-ought 
liimself  to  the  preparation  of  the  Apologia.  Tlie  book  was  cagei-ly 
received  by  a  curious  and  not  too  friendly  public.  It  produced  a 
remarkable  sensation.  The  least  it  did  was  to  exhibit  the  evident 
einceril}'  of  its  author.  It  was  absolutely  incredible  that  tliero 
should  be  any  conscious  duplicity  in  the  nature  of  a  man  who  could 
lay  bare  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  soul  with  such  chaste  boldness 
as  was  displayed  on  every  page  of  this  autobiography.  The  task 
was  one  from  which  Xevvman  might  well  have  shrank.  Evangel- 
ical, Laudian,  Fomanist — he  had  been  all  three  in  turn,  and  he  had 
to  show  a  skeptical  public  that  he  had  sought  the  truth  in  each 
changing  situation.  The  book  has  little  proselytizing  power — 
Xewman  cxpre-sly  declares  that  it  was  not  v,"ritten  to  expound 
]voman  doctrine;  but  as  a  gi-eat  human  document,  compelling  the 
attention  if  not  the  admiration  of  the  reader,  and  often  touching 
the  heart  while  yet  the  intellect  remains  as  adamant,  it  takes  second 
lilace  to  but  few  books  of  its  class. 

John  Henry  Xe-v\nnan  was  born  in  London  on  February  21, 
ISOl.  The  boy  was  in  some  measure  the  earnest  of  the  man.  ''In 
my  early  years  I  was  very  superstitious"  is  a  remark  he  makes 
?ibout  himself,  which  some  may  think  applicable  to  his  later  years. 
Under  the  guidance  of  his  mother,  wlien  he  was  fifteen  years  of  ago 
he  believed  he  experienced  "conviction  of  sin"  and  "conversion." 
At  this  time,  and  for  some  years  later,  Xewman  says  that  he  was 
firndy  conviiieed  of  his  election,  to  eternal  glory.  While  still  a  boy 
ho  read  Palne's  Tracts  Against  the  Old  Testament,  Hume's  Es- 
f.\vs,  Law's  Serious  Call,  Joseph  ]\I liner's  Clnirch  History,  with 
its  long  (extracts  from  the  fathers,  and,  as  indicated  above,  Xewtou 


31S  Mclhodisi  Bcvicw  [:May 

On  the  Pro])liPcics.  It  was  now,  too,  in  bis  attempts  to  imitate 
Addisou,  JoIni?,on,  and  Gibbon,  tbat  be  laid  tlio  foundations  of  a 
style  wbicb  later  was  to  bring  bini  fame.  On  December  14,  ISIG, 
Xcv\-man  entorod  bimsolf  at  Trinity  College,  Oxford.  In  1818  he 
won  a  valuable  Trinity  scliolarsbip.  lie  graduated  in  1820,  and 
two  yenrs  later  was  elected  Fellow  of  Oriel.  This  is  a  fact  to  be. 
noted,  for  it  meant  tbat  Oxford  could  now  bo  his  permanent  home. 
In  1S2G  be  ^vas  given  a  tutorship  at  Oriel,  and  this  made  his  cir- 
cumstances yet  more  comfort al)le,  l)esides  throwing  him  more  fully 
into  tbe  life  of  the  uui\-ersity.  Tlic  ten  yeai-s  covered  by  this  brief 
recital  were  full  of  otlier  momentous  cx])oriences,  and  these  de- 
mand our  attention.  Early  in  his  college  career  Xewman  became 
dissatisfied  with  the  gloomy  creed  in  which  he  had  been  nurtured. 
Calvinism  did  not  tit  the  facts;  the  evarigelical  teaching  did  not 
satisfy;  the  old  positions  must  be  abandoned.  Perhaps  the  most 
potent  factor  in  Xewman's  life  at  this  period  was  his  friendships. 
To  them  must  bo  attributed  no  small  shai-e  of  the  influences  which 
led  him  to  some  of  his  later  decisions.  And  what  friends  he  had 
— Ilurrcll  Froude,  Kel)le,  What  el  3',  Edward  Hawkins,  Pusey! 
Fronde's  admiration  of  Pome  was  equaled  only  by  his  hatred  of 
the  Peforraatioii.  An  authoritative  hierarchy  he  could  under- 
stand, but  never  an  authoritative  Book.  All  tbe  peculiarities  of  the 
mcdiawal  church — tradition,  celibacy,  mii-aclo,  penance,  mortifica- 
tion, the  Peal  Presence— found  in  Fi'oude  a  zealous  defender. 
And  with  such  a  man  tbe  impressionable  Xewman  was  in  the 
closest  daily  contact.  Froude  said  that  the  best  tiling  he  ever  did 
v>-as  when  he  brought  iX'ewinan  and  Keble  to  understand  each  other. 
It  Avas  Iveble's  sermon  on  ''Xational  Apostasy"  which  we  shall  see 
later  really  started  tbe  Tiactai-ian  movement.  ^Yithout  Keble, 
says  Xewman,  the  movement  never  would  have  been.  It  was  from 
the  author  of  The  Christian  Year  that  he  got  the  two  ideas,  (1) 
that  the  sacramental  system  accords  with  the  conception  that  the 
material  is  tbe  type  and  the  insli'ument  of  the  real  unseen;  and 
(2)  that  the  strength  of  a  doctrine  depends  not  so  much  upon  its 
intrinsic  probability  as  upon  tlie  power  of  the  faith  and  love  which 
accepts  the  doctrine.  lie  may  have  got  some  assistance  toward  the 
first  idea  fi-om  Putler  as  well.     The  second  he  later  renounced  on 


11)10]  Jolin  Jlrni}/  yeunnan  340 

the  ground  that  it  Avas  not  logical.  AVhatoly's  influence  over  Xew- 
njan  was  confined  chiefly  to  the  years  1822-20.  We  are  told  that 
it  v.-as  Whately  who  taught  him  how  to  thirds  and  to  nee  his  reason. 
Here,  too,  he  got  the  conception  that  the  church  was  a  substantive 
cor])oration,  with,  her  own  jxcnliar  powers,  rights,  and  preroga- 
tives. It  was  largely  owing  to  impressions  he  received  from 
Whately  that  Xewman  became  so  amenable  to  the  influence  of 
Keble.  Edward  Hawkins  was  vicar  of  Saint  ^Mary's  at  the  time 
]:^ewman  won  the  Oriel  fellowship.  His  influence  over  the  young 
scholar's  mind  was  very  marked,  especially  in  connection  wiili  tlio 
doctrine  of  Holy  Scri]iture.  Under  his  guidance  !Newniaii  ex- 
changed the  evaugclieal  conce]»tio]i  of  the  Hible  for  the  coiice])tion 
that  the  Bible  must  be  iiitorprcted  by  tradition.  In  ]  S2S  Hawkins 
was  elected  over  ]yeblc  as  provost  of  Oi-iel  and  Xewman  became 
vicar  of  St.  ]\[ary's.  The  year  following,  as  the  result  of  a  dis- 
agreement with  the  piovost,  Xewman  lost  his  tuto]-ship.  Writing 
of  the  event  later,  he  said,  ''Humar>ly  speaking,  the  Oxford  move- 
)uent  uQwv  vrould  have  been  had  I  not  been  deprived  of  tlie  tutor- 
shi]),  or  had  Keble,  not  Hawkins,  been  provo^-t."  Tusey  was  made 
an  Oriel  Fellow  in  1S23,  and  his  friendship  v/ith  Xewman  dales 
from  that  time.  Xo  leader  of  the  Oxford  movement  has  received 
more  vilification  than  has  he,  and  none  was  more  able  than  was  he. 
He  gave  the  movement  a  certain  strength  which  first  forced  its 
recognition  by  other  jnirties  in  the  university.  Es]iecially  did  h.' 
change  the  character  of  the  tracts.  ''He  saw  that  there  ought  to 
be  more  sobriety,  more  gTavity,  more  careful  pains,  more  sense  of 
responsibility  in  the  tracts  and  in  the  whole  moyement." 

Lut  besides  the  ijiflnenee  exei'ted  upon  Xewnnan  by  his  friends 
was  tjie  influence  exerted  upon  him  by  his  studies  of  the  fathers 
and  his  investigations  of  heresies.  He  began  to  i-ead  the  fathers 
sori<.n.dy  during  the  long  vacation  of  1S2S,  with  a  view  to  writing 
a  book  on  the  Arians.  The  Alexandrians,  Orlgen,  Clement,  and 
Dioiiyslus  had  a  special  attraction  for  him,  so  much  so  tliat  lie 
was  liin.^elf  called  '^a  (Jreek  of  Alexandria."  In  connection  with 
this  study.  Xewnjan  read  the  v.orks  of  Bishop  I'ull,  and  the  two 
<-om]>ined  h'-l  him  to  liolieve  that  the  Church  of  England,  t..  be  a 
tnu"  ehnreh,  mu-t  have  antiquity  fnr  her  basis.     The  volume  on 


350  McihodisI  lie  view  [M^J 

the  Arians  was  published  at  Ihc  close  of  1833,  and  imiucdialclj 
made  it.s  author's  mark  as  a  Avrilcr.  The  real  siguificaiicc  of  tho 
book,  however,  is  its  iudicatiou  of  \vhat  was  taking  place  in  I^Tew- 
man's  own  mind,  iw  it  contains  the  startling  statement  that  "to 
s])aro  an  hcrcsiarch  is  a  fal-e  and  dangerous  pity" — a  statement 
•which  led  to  liis  being  accusi'd  of  wishing  to  reestablish  the  Inquisi- 
tion. The  truth  is  that  !Newman  was  already  beginning  to  hate 
anything  which  threatened  the  corporate  unity  of  the  church.  At 
his  hand  was  the  Establishment,  dissected  by  the  great  liberalizing, 
elements.  His  studies  revcnled  to  him  a  primitive  church,  iresh, 
vigorous,  v.'hole.  Of  that  church — tho  Church  Catholic  and  Apos- 
tolic— his  own  church  was  nothing  but  the  local  presence  and 
organ.  Unless  she  iras  tJiis  she  vjas  nothing,  and  to  mahe  her  this 
there  must  he  a  second  Reformation. 

Another  iniluential  factor  in  Xewman's  spiritual  upheaval 
was  his  trip  to  the  south  of  Europe,  begun  in  December  of  ISOS 
with  llurrcll  Ei-oude,  VN'ho  was  going  in  search  of  health.  During 
this  trip  he  wrote  a  great  deal  of  poetry,  most  of  it  expressive  of 
his  frame  of  mind  respecting  the  church.  He  left  Fronde  at  Mar- 
seilles and  went  on  alone  to  Eome.  The  city  itself  enamored  him, 
but  he  found  its  religion  "polytheistic,  degrading,  and  idolatrous." 
lie  was  detained  at  Palermo  hy  a  serious  illness,  but  was  convinced 
that  he  v/ould  recover,  si}ice  he  had  not  sinned  against  light  and 
had  a  work  to  do  in  England.  It  Avas  -novr  that  he  wrote  the  expres- 
sion referred  to  above — "O  that  thy  creed  were  sound,  thou  Church 
of  Kome!"  Leaving  Palermo,  he  traveled  by  boat  back  to  Mar- 
seilles, and  on  tho  way  Avrote  his  great  hymn,  "Lead,  kindly 
Light!"  ]n  a  fev\'  days  he  -was  in  England  again,  and  on  the  first 
Sunday  following  his  return,  ,1  uly  1-1,  1S33,  Kcble  preached  at 
Oxford  tlie  epochal  sermon  on  "Xational  Apostasy,"  concerning 
which  iS^cwman  wrote :  "I  have  ever  considered  and  kept  the  day  as 
the  start  of  the  religious  movement  of  1S33."  "Erasmus  laid  the 
egg,  and  Luther  hatched  it."  The  ideas  inspired  by  I\eble  and 
fostered  by  Eroude  were  now  to  be  brought  to  fidl  fruition  by 
Kewman.  A  five  days'  consultation  took  place  in  the  vicarage  at 
Iladleigh,  and  in  this  meeting  the  plan  of  the  Oxford  movement 
took  definite  shape.     Apostolic  succession  and  the  integrity  of  the 


]!JiOl  Jclui  Henry  Seicman  3.")! 

I'raycr  Book  were  to  be  fouglit  for,  and  the  ideas  of  tlie  part v  were 
to  be  disseminated  bj  a  series  of  tracts.  lu  connection  with  the 
plan,  Xcwman  immediately  began  to  preach  his  famous  four 
o'clock  sermons  nt  Saint  Marv's.  Thus  originated  the  party  v.hich 
eventually  clashed  not  onlv  with  the  church  from  which  it  sj.raiig 
b'Jt  even  Avith  the  very  nation  itself.  For  ten  years  Xewman, 
v.hose  intense  convictions  gave  rise  to  an  equally  intense  enthusi- 
asm, was  the  soul  of  the  party.  Especially  in  his  tracts  did  he  call 
into  play  his  splendid  powers  of  expression.  He  made  the  British 
Critic,  of  which  he  became  editor  in  1S3S,  the  organ  of  the  n.ove- 
ment  Contemporaries  bear  united  testimony  to  his  remarlvable 
influence  at  this  period.  "It  was  almost,"  says  Professor  Shairp, 
"as  if  some  Ambrose  or  Augustine  had  rcapi^eared" ;  and  J.  A. 
Froude  declares  that  ''compared  with  him  all  the  rest  were  but 
as  ciphers,  and  he  the  indicating  number."  The  ''Essay  ou 
Justification"  was  published  in  1S37.  It  is  a  sufficient  indication 
both  of  the  character  of  the  Avi-iting  and  of  the  trend  of  Xewman's 
mind  to  say  that  he  himself  tells  us  that  the  Essay  was  ''aimed  at 
the  Lutheran  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  as  the  cardinal  doc- 
trine of  Christianity."  The  first  thi-eatened  collision  with  ecclesi- 
astical authority  was  when  in  183S  XcAvman's  bishop  publicly  ex- 
pressed himself  against  the  tracts.  Xewman  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  offending  his  superior  and  offered  to  stop  the  tracts  at 
once  if  the  bishop  wished.  Whatever  the  bishop  wished,  the  tracts 
were  noi  discontinued.  Five  more  eventful  years  were  to  elapse 
before  the  fateful  number  ninety  should  appear.  The  studies  com- 
menced by  XcAvman  in  the  '"memorable"'  Long  Vacation  of  1S30 
dealt  him  a  staggering  blow.  He  applied  himself  to  a  close  study 
of  the  Monophysito  controversy.  ''It  was  during  this  period  that 
for  the  first  time  a  doubt  came  upon  me  of  the  tenablcnesa  of 
Anglicanism.''  It  was  as  if  a  ghostly  figure  had  appoare^I  momen- 
tarily by  his  side  and  whispered  an  impressive  warning.  The 
question  forced  itself  upon  him :  If  the  Eutychians  and  th.>  ^fono- 
phy-ites  were  heretics,  why  were  not  also  Protestants  and  Angli- 
cans luretics ?  Could  it  be  possible  that  the  Church  of  Ivome  would 
l)rovo  to  be  right,  after  all  I  For  the  first  time  an  awful  suspicion 
hiiuiitod  his  mind  that  he  was  in  spiritual  danger — a  suspicion  that 


052  Mclliuilisl  ]\cvlew  [^^''y 

conluined  to  incrcaso  in  jxiwcr  until  it  blossomed  into  a  great  con- 
viclJon.  Kiglilly  to  iUKlerstand  \\\\\  ]u;  Avas  so  overwhelmed  by  tlie 
results  of  this  stndy  we  must  consider  his  doctrine  of  a  via  media 
• — a  receding  from  exti-emcs,  an  attempt  to  form  an  Anglo-Catholic 
theory,  !^^e^^'nla]l  ]treinired  a  sei-ies  of  works  l)eaj-ing  on  the  sub- 
ject. These  wei'e  issued  1S3G-S.  'I'jie  title  of  the  first  was  TIjo 
Projihetieal  Oiilee  of  the  Cliurch  A'ievrcd  JielatJvely  to  Komanism 
and  I'upulnr  Protestantism.  Others  of  the  series  were  the  Essay 
on  Justification,  the  Disquisition  on  the  Canon  of  Scripture,  and 
the  Tractate  on  Antichrist.  The  volumes  increased  both  the  devo- 
tion of  friends  and  the  hostilily  of  enemies.  The  Prophetical 
OlHce  aimed  a[  several  tilings:  1..  show  that  the  Poman  and  Angli- 
can systems  could  not  be  confused  together ;  to  commence  a  system 
of  theology  on  the  Anglican  claim  of  apostolic  succession;  to  find 
in  reason  a  basis  for  the  belief;  and  to  show  that,  since  the  Greek, 
Latin,  and  Anglican  Churches  agreed  in  fundamentals  and  ditlered 
oidy  in  later  errors,  by  ^'lawfur'  cooperation  doctrinal  purity  and 
unity  could  be  restored.  Underlying  the  theory  of  the  book  were 
what  Xewman  con^idert'd  three  fnndamentals:  (1)  The  prijicijile 
of  dogma:  ^'Erom  the  age  of  fifteen,  dogma  has  been  the  funda- 
mental principle  of  ]ny  religion.  .  .  .  Peligion  as  a  mere 
sentiment  is  to  me  a  dream  and  a  mockery.'"  (2)  The  idea  of  a 
visible  church  widi  sacran.ients  and  rites  which  arc  the  channels  of 
invisible  graec.  ]']s])ecially  did  A'ewman  cojitenJ  for  the  higli 
authority  of  his  bi.-hop.  ".My  duty  to  him  was  my  point  of  honor." 
(3)  The  duty  of  making  an  eni]diatic  protest  against  the  Church 
of  Pome.  He  believed,  v/iih  iJernard  Gilpin,  that  Protestants 
''were  not  ahlc  to  give  any  firm  and  solid  reason  of  the  separation 
besides  this:  to  v;it,  that  the  Po]>e  is  Anticlirist.''  ]n  the  spring 
of  1830  Xewman's  ]n.>sition  in  the  Anglican  Church  was  at  its 
height.  So  far  in  all  his  theology  he  could  claim  the  su])[)ort  of  the 
great  Anglican  authorities,  and  this  gave  him  conlidence.  An 
article  which  he  published  in  the  Pritish  Critic  for  April  of  this 
year  exactly  describes  his  fi^elii.gs.  The  article  anticipates  tlie 
coming  of  a  great  u])lieaval  over  tlie  attempted  resuscitation  of 
buried  doctrines,  disclaims  res])onsiI,tiHly  by  the  parly  for  the 
^■agal•ies  of  eertain  new  (.]isci])les,  and  discusses  the  possibility  of 


J !)]()]  Jolni  IJrnry  Sm-man  353 

ili('  future  of  llio  Aii^;lican  CluDx-li  being  "a  new  Lirtli  of  t]io 
aiicicut  religion."  It  couclucles  ^^■it]l  the  contention  that  all  wlio 
did  not  wish  to  be  '"'democratic,  or  pantheistic,  or  Popish,"  mnst 
''look  out  for  some  via  media  Avhich  will  preserve  ns  from  what 
threatens. "  Yet  that  Xewman  vras  not  fully  convinced  of  the 
soundne.-:s  of  liis  suggested  via  media  is  evident  from  his  own 
words : 

It  still  remains  to  be  tried  whether  what  is  called  Auglo-Catholicism, 
the  religion  of  Audrev.-es,  Laud,  Hammond,  Butler,  and  Wilson,  is  caiiablo 
of  being  professed,  arted  on,  and  maintained  on  a  liirtje  sphere  of  action, 
or  Nvliethcr  it  be  a  mere  modification  or  transition  state  of  either  Romanism 
or  Fopular  Protestantism. 

It  was  Avhilc  Xewmnn's  mind  was  filled  with  ideas  sucli  as  these 
that  he  plunged  into  that  study  of  the  Alonophysite  heresy  which 
shook  his  theory  to  the  very  foundation.  The  tiuie  was  the  l^oug 
\^ication  of  1530.  Then  in  August  he  read,  in  the  Dublin  licview, 
an  inlicle  by  ])r.  AViseman  on  ''The  Anglican  Claim,"  in  which  a 
cnupaiison  was  uiade  between  the  Donatists  and  the  Anglicans. 
The  article  quoted  the  phrase  of  Augustine:  "Securu.s  judicat 
orhis  icrrarumJ^    Writing  of  this,  Xewman  says  : 

By  those  great  words  of  the  ancient  father,  interpreting  and  summing 
w\i  the  long  and  varied  course  of  ecclesiastical  history,  the  theory  of  the 
Via  Media  was  absolutely  pulverized. 

'^'(■t  we  must  not  think  that  Xewman  vras  now  ready  to  enter  the 
Koman  communion,  lie  was  still  very  far  from  this.  'J'he  indict- 
ment of  Eome's  proselytizing  methods  which  he  made  in  tlie  Jh'it- 
ish  Critic  early  in  1840,  to  which  reference  was  made  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  article,  was  written,  be  it  observed,  after  the  study  of 
the  ]\Iono]'hypite  heresy.  If  he  could  not  attack  Ivome  in  wlini  she 
taught,  he  coidd  still  aliack  her  in  Jioaj  she  taught.  Xcvertheless, 
as  time  Avent  on  he  found  him.-elf  getting  less  and  less  inclined  to 
s])(>:ik  against  Itome  in  any  way  at  all.  His  misgivings,  he  says, 
"dismayed  and  disgusted"  him.  lie  felt  tliat  he  no  longer  liad  a 
distinctive  plea  for  Anglicanisnn  Hut  he  still  believed  that  there 
was  ajxistolic  suecf-ssion  and  the  grace  of  the  sacraments  in  (he 
Kstablishment,  and  enlertained  the  hope  tliat  perhaps  England  and 
ll'ime  mi'dit  sonn-  day  unite.  Il  was  now  thai  his  friends  began  to 
frar  that  he  was  bri-aklnu'  down  in  his  Aniillcanism,  and  that  his 


354  MclhodUi  Bevictu  [^f^J 

enemies  began  to  accii.^o  him  of  being  a  ''secret  Romanist."  On 
sucli  questions  J^cwman  should  be  allowed  to  speak  for  liimself. 
He  emphatically"  denies  that  he  ever  said  anything  which  boro 
eecrelly  against  the  Church  of  England  in  order  that  others  might 
imwarily  accept  i(.  In  analyzing  the  slate  of  his  mind  during  tho 
ten  years  1835-45  he  says  that  for  ilie  first  four  he  wished  to  ben- 
efit the  Church  of  England  at  lho  expense  of  Rome,  and  that  for  the 
next  four  he  wished  that  benefit  witliout  prejudice  to  Piome.  His 
varying  positions  durijig  the  next  two  years  will  ajipear  later.  He 
did  not  Y.-nnt  to  see  individual  Anglicans  becoming  Romanists — 
this  he  declared  to  a  Catholic  friend  in  a  letter  written  in  1S40; 
the  fact  of  Protestantism  argued  for  something  radically  Avrong 
with  Rome.  "!My  sympaihics  have  grown  toward  Rome,  but  I 
still  have  the  strongest  reasons  for  shunning  her  communion." 
Mariolatry  and  transubstanLiation  were  positi\'e  difficulties  in  his 
•way.  The  "Sermons  on  Subjects  of  the  Bay,"  preached  during 
the  period  under  consideration,  are  additional  proof  that  he  was 
trying  to  bring  to  bear  upon  hiinself  and  others  every  possible 
reason  for  7iGt  joining  I'Jome.  Yet  ho  does  admit  that,  as  time 
went  ori,  he  "recognized,  in  principles  which  he  had  honestly 
p;reachcd  as  Anglican,  conclusions  favorable  to  the  cause  of  Rome." 
Ke^^•Inan  thus  conceived  the  issue  of  the  controversy  between 
the  two  churches:  A  distinclion  must  be  made  between  Roman 
dogma  and  Romanism  as  ])i-acticed.  In  the  same  way  must  a  dis- 
tinction be  made  between  Anglicanism  fjuiescent  and  Anglicanism 
in  action.  Between  Bomamsm  in  action  and  Avglieaiiism  ejuies- 
cent  there  is  not  mucli  difference,  and  these  are  really  the  parties  in 
the  controversy.  In  IS  10  he  wrote:  "Our  strong  point  is  the  argu- 
ment from  primitivenes>,  that  of  Romanists  from  universality"; 
and  a  year  later:  "If  tlie  note  of  schism,  on  the  one  hand,  lies 
against  JLiigland,  an  antagonist  disgrace  lies  upon  Rome,  the  noto 
of  idolatry."  But  his  confi<lencc  that  apostolicity  and  holiness 
could  make  Anglicanism  a  brancli  of  the  Church  Catholic  gradu- 
ally weakened,  so  that  by  the  end  of  ISll  all  he  could  say  was: 
^'Still,  we  are  not  nothing. ;  we  cannnt  be  as  if  we  never  had  been 
a  church;  we  are  'Samaria.'  "  This  cniclusion — the  conclusion  of 
a  man  who  is  hoping  against  liope — Avas  hastened  by  thre(>  other 


1910]  John  Henry  Scinnan  355 

events  of  tlic  latter  half  of  llils  same  y^ar.  The  first  vras  the  pro- 
nounced and  opeii  hoslJlity  of  thr-  Anglican  Lishoji^.  'J'he  second 
\vas  that,  from  a  study  of  the  Arians,  jS'cwman  says  he  saw  clearly 
that  "the  pure  Arians  were  the  Protestants,  the  senii-Arians  were 
(be  Anglicans,  and  thai  ]"ioino  liow  M'as  what  she  wa=  then."  Tho 
lliird  wns  the  matter  of  the  Jerusalem  bishopric.  The  Prussian 
cuui-t  wanted  an  Anglican  bishop  to  reside  at  Jerusalem.  All  tho 
foreign  Protestants  there  who  were  so  minded  were  to  come  under 
the  bishop's  care.  The  Anglicans  were  willing  to  make  the  experi- 
ment. Newman  strenuously  objected  to  the  Innovation.  AVho 
was  going  to  tell  if  these  foreigners — Orthodox  Grrehs  and  schis- 
jmitical  Oriciitals — had  been  duly  baptized  and  confirmed,  or  even 
if  they  Iti'ld  the  doctrine  of  baptismal  regeneration!  This  was  the 
hea\iest  blov,-  of  all ;  it  maidred  the  beginning  of  the  end.  Newman 
accelerated  the  course  of  events  by  the  publication  of  the  celebrated 
Tract  Ninety.  In.  this  tract  ho  undertook  to  defend  the  proposition 
that  the  '.riiirty-jiine  Articles  were  not  meant,  primarily,  to  oppose 
Catholic  teaching;  that  they  only  partially  oppose  Catholic  dogma; 
and  that  their  real  purpose  was  to  opjsose  the  dominant  errors  of 
Pome.  The  main  problem,  he  declared,  was  to  draw  the  line  be- 
tv.-t'cn  what  the  Articles  allowed  and  what  they  condemned.  The 
Ptcformation  was  aimed  at  "Popery,"  not  as  a  religious  power,  but 
as  a  political  principle.  It  was  a  part  of  the  purpose  of  the  Articles 
that  the  "papists"  should  be  won  to  the  Peformation,  The  Con- 
vocation of  1571,  vrliich  received  and  confirmed  the  Articles,  en- 
joined U]X)n  ministers  that  they  should  be  careful  to  preach  ordj 
that  wliich  is  "agreeable  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
)nrnts,  II nd  u-hich  the  Caihollc  fathers  and  ancient  bishops  hnvfi 
collected  from  that  very  doctrine."  The  tract  reaches  this  con- 
clusion : 

Tlio  Articles  are  evidently  framed  on  the  principle  of  Icavins  opo» 
lar^'o  qiioijtioiis  on  wliich  the  controversy  hinges.  They  state  broaiily 
cxtronio  trutlis,  and  are  silent  cibout  their  ailjn^tmcut. 

'i  lier(' was  a  measure  of  truth  in  some  of  Newman's  contentions,  but 
few  people  t^aw  this,  and  in  the  clamor  that  followed  the  publication 
of  th<-  traet  the  author  realized  that  his  place  in  the  movement  wat 
guiic  fcnver.     lie  therefore  immediately  resigned  both  his  ofilcifii 


3:;G  Milhodld  ncvkw  [:Nray 

position  find  tlic  cditortlil])  of  the  IJritish  Critic.  Tlie  breach  thus 
nindo  i))  Xhv.  i)arty  v.-as  irropaviihle.  One  half,  including  iSTewman 
himself,  v/cnt  on  toward  Jiouic;  tho  other  hall  split  uj)  into  various 
sects. 

The  first  question  that  the  new  condition  of  affairs  brought 
up  in  Xewman's  niind  was  his  relation  to  his  parish.  lie  seriously 
contemplated  resigning-  it,  efpcei;dly  as  he  felt  that  his  preaching 
was  disposing  many  people  tr)ward  Eome,  and  he  wrote  to  Keble 
to  this  eil'ect.  Iveble  advised  him  to  retain  the  living,  and  for  a 
time  the  advice  was  followed.  After  all,  he  thought,  there  was 
only  a  question  of  degree  between  himself  and  earlier  Anglican 
divines  ;  and,  besides,  he  could  use  Saint  Mary's  to  protest  against 
the  current  rationalism.  Situated  a  short  distance  from  Oxford 
and  attached  to  Saint  Mary's  pari.^h  vras  the  village  of  ].ittlemore. 
At  this  place  jSTewman  owned  some  land  and  a  house — later  called 
''The  Littlemore  ^lonastery" — and  in  1S42,  Avith  several  young 
men,  lie  took  up  his  residence  there.  Here  for  three  years  he  led 
a  life  of  prayer  and  fasting  and  monastic  sechision.  This  seclu- 
sion aroused  suspicion,  and  his  enemies  declared  that  he  '"dared 
not"  tell  why  he  went  to  Litilemore.  lie  utters  the  pathetic  plaint : 
""Wounded  brutes  creep  into  some  hole  to  die  in,  and  no  one 
gi-udges  it  them.  Let  me  alone;  I  shall  not  trotible  you  long." 
Xewmaii  declared  that  he  went  to  Littlemore  for  his  own  personal 
good,  as  well  as  to  be  able  to  give  gi-eator  care  to  a  neglected  part 
of  his  parish.  He  was  "attempting  nothing  ecclesiastical."  To 
the  charge  tliat  he  was  reaiing  a  ''nest  of  papists"  at  the  village, 
he  rejilied  that,  so  far  from  urging  the  young  men  to  go  to  Rome, 
he  did  all  he  could  to  liold  them  back.  One  of  these  young  men 
co7ifo]-med  to  Itome  very  suddeidy,  but  in  this  he  broke  faith  with 
Xewnuin,  to  whom  he  had  promised  that  lie  would  renniin  at  Little- 
more as  an  Anglican  for  at  least  three  years.  Lut  the  cuur?e  of  time 
only  served  to  unsettle  Xewman  the  more.  If  the  Anglican  Church 
was  formally  wrong,  and  if  the  Church  of  Rome  was  formally  right, 
why  sljould  he  stay  in  the  one,  and  why  should  he  not  join  tho 
other?  The  least  lie  could  do,  he  thought,  was  to  retire  into  lay 
communion,  and  in  an!icii>ation  of  this  step  he  vrrote  a  letter  on 
!Mari'h    1,  L'^4^;,  in  which  he  said  that  he  saw  no  reason  why  an 


1010]  John  Jloiry  Newman  357 

Anglican  layman  should  not  hold  Ivoman  Catholic  opinions.  This 
])eiiod  of  seclusion  led  nj)  to  two  signilicant  events :  the  retractation 
and  the  resignation.  (1)  In  Februarj,  1S43,  Xewman  made  a 
furnial  retractation  of  all  the  harsh  things  he  had  ever  said  against 
lionie.  In  it  he  declared  that  much  of  his  antagonism  to  the 
liieravchy  had  Ix'C-n  sccond-ljand ;  ho  had  siniply  repeated  what 
other  Anglican  divines  had  said,  and  they  had  led  him  astray. 
]Jut  what  troubled  liim  most,  he  said,  was  that  his  retractation 
would  result  in  a  trinmph  for  Liberalism.  Anglicanism  was  the 
halfway  house  to  Eome,  as  Liberalism  was  the  halfway  house  to 
Atheism.  He  feared  that  his  chaugt-  of  o]n]iion  would  drive  many 
from  the  Anglican  to  the  Liberal  halting  ]dace.  (2)  On  ib.c  18lh 
of  KSeptember  following  the  retractation  Xewman  resigned  his  liv- 
ing. The  "ostensible,  direct,  and  sufficient  reason"  for  tliis  was  "the 
persevering  attack  of  the  bishops  on  Tract  Xinety."  .The  imme- 
diate caubC  of  the  resignation  was  the  "conversion"  to  liome  of 
Lochhart.  Xev.-man  had  had  little  to  do  with  the  "conversion," 
but  he  felt  sure  it  would  bo  laid  at  his  door  as  a  breach  of  trust. 
Besides,  he  had  on  hand  a.  plan  to  pnblish  a  great  series  of  the 
Lives  of  English  Saints — a  plan  which  never  fully  materialized — 
and  he  believed  this  was  incompatible  with  his  holding  the  living. 
Lor  two  years  after  resigning  Saint  Maiy's  Xewman  was  in  lay 
communion,  for  there  vrere  yet  serious  obstacles  in  the  -ss-ay  of  his 
joining  Rome.  The  fluctuallons  of  his  mind  during  these  years  Icii 
naturally  to  inconsistent  statements  which  perplexed  his  friends 
aiid  baffled  his  enemies.  He  resolved  to  ado])t  a  policy  of  silence, 
but  this  only  led  to  his  beiug  charged  with  being  "mysterious  and 
inexplicable."  It  v.'as  while  he  was  in  this  state  of  mind — literally 
wilh  •'foe.-;  v/ithout  and  fears  within" — that  he  grasped  a  principle 
which  he  believed  wonld  legitimately  and  adequately  explain  the 
whole  structure  of  Roman  dogma.  It  was  tlic  principle  of  develop- 
nuiit.  Christian  doctrine  was  nnder  an  evolutionary  ])lan  ;  it  was 
a  great  organic  structure  of  which  every  item  was  originally  ]n-es- 
cnf  in  ''.erm,  and  bi-oni;ht  to  light  and  comi)lelion  as  occasion 
deniajided.  It  was  to  olaborale  ibis  idea  ihat  Xewman  began,  late 
in  JS-ll-  or  early  in  J  Si:),  the  e]>ochal  "hl^say  on  Doctrinal  De- 
velo].n,ent."     Very  suugeslive  are  two  letters  written  at  about  this 


S6S  Mclhodist  Rcvicio  [May 

same  period.  The  first  is  dated  iS"oveni])er  16,  1844,  and  in  it 
IRcwman  declares  that  logically  Anglicanism  leads  on  to  Kome, 
and  if  he  does  not  follow  the  leading,  he  fears  he  must  fall  back  into 
Ekepticis]u.  But  he  says  also:  "^Yhat  keeps  me  yet  is  what  has 
kept  me  long— a  f(ar  that  T  am  under  a  delusion."  The  second 
letter,  dated  .lannary  8,  1$]5,  is  the  one  referred  to  in  the  opening 
paragraphs  of  this  article  as  containing  the  searching  personal 
question:  ''Can  /  he  ?aved  in  the  English  Church?"  These  two 
letters  show  plainly  enough  tliat  Kev.njian  began  the  essay  with  a 
ttrong  prejudice  in  favor  of  Jiome.  What  he  vv-auted  was  a  sufii- 
cient  ground  for  allowing  lii.s  mind  to  follow  liis  heart.  The 
ju-oposltion  which  he  undertook  to  defend  was: 

That,  whereas  Revelation  is  a  heavenly  gift,  He  who  gave  it  virtually 
has  not  given  it  unless  lie  has  also  secured  it  from  perversion  or  corrup- 
tion In  all  such  development  as  comes  upon  it  by  the  necessity  of  its  nature. 
.     .     .     That  intellectual  action  through  successive  generations,  which  is 

the  organ  of  development,  must  ho  in  its  determinations  infallible. 

The  main  contention  of  the  r-;say,  and  the  conclusion  to  which 
>^evv]nan  was  led  1)y  his  work  in  connection  with  it,  is  summed  np 
in  this  sentence:  ''From  the  time  of  Constautine  the  system  and 
the  phenomena  of  worship  in  Christendom,  from  Moscow  to  Spain, 
and  from  Ireland  to  Cliile,  is  one  and  the  same."  The  more  he 
worked  at  the  essay,  the  more  he  felt  all  his  donhts  about  Rome  dis- 
appearing. ''Catholic"  was  substituted  for  the  ter?n  "Roman 
Catholic";  none  other  than  Ilomanists  were  "Catholic,?."  Soon  he 
became  so  certain  of  his  conclusions  that  he  determined  to  take  the 
final  step,  "imperative  when  such  certitude  was  attained,"  of  sub- 
mission to  Rome.  The  essay  was  laid  aside  unfini.^hed.  An  ar- 
rangement was  made  for  a  juu-sonal  visit  by  Father  Dominic, 
superior  of  the  Passionist  Ilonse  at  Aston,  near  Stone.  "lie  does 
not  know  of  )ny  intention;  but  I  inean  to  ask  of  him  admission 
into  the  One  Fold  of  Christ."  The  visit  was  made,  and  N^ewman 
was  received  into  Rome  on  October  9,  1845.  A  year  later  he  was 
ordained  to  the  priesthDod.  Ue  v,ent  in  the  strength  of  a  great 
conviction,  and  yet  not  without  a  sorrow,  for  at  the  time  of  his 
going  he  wrote  these  words,  which  cannot  but  excite  pity  in  even 
the  most  hostile  ln.'arl  : 


10 JO]  John  Henry  Ncivman  359 

Yes,  I  give  up  home;  1  give  up  all  who  have  ever  known  me,  loved 
nio,  valued  ine,  wish^-d  me  vvell;  I  know  well  that  I  am  making  myself  a 
byword  and  an  oulca-st. 

Thus  he  went,  and  we  may  draw  Avliat  iiifcrc-ncc  we  like  from  tho 
fact  that  his  going  synchronized  with  Kenan's  renunciation  of  the 
Ivonum  chaim. 

A  brief  notice  of  ]S^e^^^nan's  career  as  a  Horaanist  is  all  that 
is  necessary.  Gladstone  said  that,  as  far  as  tho  Church  of  Eng- 
land was  concerjicd,  the  secession  was  "calamitous" — chiefly  be- 
cause l\ewman  at  once  began  to  regain  for  Ixomain'sm  an  influen- 
tial place  in  England.  He  introduced  the  institute  of  the  Oratory, 
to  whose  founder,  Saint  Philip  Neri,  he  was  especially  attracted. 
The  "Papal  Aggression,"  which  led  to  such  violent  anti-liomanism 
in  England,  had  IsTewman  for  one  of  its  leaders.  In  185-1  he  was 
made  rector  of  tlie  nevv  Pom  an  Catholic  University  at  Dublin. 
The  imiversity  failed,  but  it  led  to  the  writing  of  one  of  Kewman's 
greatest  books,  the  Idea  of  a  University.  The  manifest  worth  of 
his  work  was  recognized  by  Pope  Leo,  who  in  1S78  called  him  to 
the  Sacred  College,  with  tho  unusual  privilege  of  exemption  from 
the  obligation  of  residence  at  the  pontifical  court.  At  Pome,  in 
May  of  the  following  -year,  he  was  formally  created  cardinal  of 
tho  title  of  Saint  George  in  Velabro.  At  the  time  that  he  received 
this  honor  he  told  the  Sacred  College  something  of  the  story  of  his 
life:  how  for  fifty  years  he  had  resisted  Liberalism,  how  he  liad 
clung  to  the  absolute  character  of  Christianity,  and  how  the  scat 
of  religious  authority,  which  he  had  so  long  sotight  in  vain  in 
Anglicanism  and  evangelical  theology,  he  had  at  last  found  in 
Pome.  Kewman's  life  after  this  was  comparatively  quiet,  unevent- 
ful and  serene.  Doubt  was  at  rest.  Most  of  his  remaining  years 
wore  s])ent  at  the  Oratory  at  Edgbaston.  Ho  died  on  the  11th  of 
August,  1800. 

J.  A.  Eroude  has  made  some  curiously  erratic  judgments  c-f 
men  and  evcTits,  but  his  characterization  of  ^STewman  is  worth  at- 
tention : 

Ho  was  above  middle  height,  slight  and  spare.  His  head  was  large — 
h!8  face  remarkably  like  that  of  Julius  Cresar.  The  forehead,  tho  shape  of 
tha  earfl  and  noso,  were  almost  the  same.  Tho  lines  of  tho  mouth  were 
Tory  peculiar,  and  I  should  say  exactly  the  same.    In  both  men  there  w^ie 


360  MrtJiodist  Bevievj  [^iay 

an  original  force  of  character,  which  refused  to  be  molded  by  circum- 
stances, which  was  to  make  its  own  ^Yay  and  become  a  power  in  the  world; 
a  clearness  of  intellectual  perception,  a  disdain  for  conventionalities,  a 
temper  imperious  and  willful,  but  along  with  it  a  most  attaching  gentleness, 
sweetness,  singleness  of  heart  and  purpose. 

Newmaii's  sincerity  and  cnrncstncss  were  undonbtcJ,  Abbott's  tvro 
volumes  of  lab<:>i-cd  ntttsek  notwitlistaiiding.  Grant  all  that  can 
fairly  be  paid  of  mistakes  of  judgment  and  of  conduct,  there  re- 
mai^js  a  residuum  of  true  pergonal  worth.  He  "loved  souls"  -with 
something  of  an_  evajigdical  fervor,  yet  neither  as  an  Anglo- 
Catholic  nor  as  a  Eornanist  did  he  seek  to  force  men's  conviction?. 
He  became  a  leader,  not  by  any  niani])ulation,  but  by  the  force  of 
inlierent  desert.  The  poor  of  Birmingham  knew  him  well,  and 
more  than  once  during  an  epidemic  did  he  risk  his  life  that  he 
might  tend  the  sick.  AVhat  he  conceived,  to  be  the  grrat  issues  of 
our  mortal  life  he  faced  liravely,  and  no  man  may  do  that  and  alto- 
gether fail  of  manliness.  Whately  taught  Newman  the  art  of 
reasoning,  and  as  far  as  formal  argument  is  concerned  the  pupil 
learned  his  lesson  well.  The  only  way  to  resist  Newman's  con- 
clusion is  to  refuse  to  grant  him  his  i)renn^e.  Take,  for  example, 
his  ground  jorinciple,  thnt  '^an  infallible  religious  authority  is 
necessary,''  predicate  ''objective"  of  this  authority,  allow  to  New- 
man that  the  claim  is  good,  and  in  a  moment  one  finds  oneself 
full-fronting  Peter's  chair,  vaguely  conscious  of  being  in  the  wrong 
place,  and  yet  quite  sure  that  the  road  that  led  there  was  plain 
and  straight  and  inevitable.  It  seems  incredible  that  this  mind 
which  was  capable  of  sustaining  a  keen  logical  process  should  be 
the  same  mind  that  implicitly  accepted  every  statement  of  Augus- 
tine and  Aquinas,  that  thought  natural  i:>henomena  were  to  be  ex- 
jilained  by  angelic  mediation,  and  that  accepted  the  miracles  and 
the  legends  and  the  ^'science"  of  Ihc  ^Middle  Ages  because,  for- 
sooth, an  infallible  church  had  pronounced  them  true!  It  was, 
perhaps,  things  such  as  these  that  Caidyle  had  in  mind  when  he 
expressed  the  opinion  that  Newman  possessed  "the  brain  of  a 
medium-sized  rabbit."  J\'rhai)s  he  would  never  have  gone  where 
he  did  go  had  he  spent  lc>-^  tiux-  with  the  ancients  and  more  with 
the  moderns.  A  mind  v.liicli  kuv'w  practically  nothing  of  what 
Cernian  scholars  and  ]ihik)Soijl)ers  had  done  for  a  century  past 


IftJO]  John  llcnrij  Xrwman  361 

could  hardly  be  expected  to  coiistniet  other  than  a  medifcval  the- 
ol"i;y.  Xe^^^^all  M'as  master  of  a  regal  style.  His  Idea  of  a  Uui- 
vcrslly  ailords  to  niore  than  one  textbook  illustrations  of  clearness, 
fr.vcc,  and  bcanty.  From  a.  literary  standpoint  many  of  his  ser- 
nioiis  are  welj-niidi  faultless.  Even  his  casual  letters  exhibit  a 
rare  command  of  luminous  English.  Dean  Stanley  is  no  friendly 
critic  other^vise,  yet  he  Avrites:  "There  arc  hardly  any  passages  in 
English  literature  Avhich  have  exceeded  in  beauty  the  description 
of  music  in  his  University  sermons;  the  descri})tiun  of  the  sorrows 
of  human  life  in  his  sermon  on  the  Pool  of  Bethesda;  the  descrip- 
tion of  Elijah  on  Moimt  Horeb." 

Eut  after  \ve  have  said  all  the  good  things  ^^■e  can  find  to  say 
about  this  man — after  \ve  have  admitted  his  evident  sincerity  and 
genuineness,  his  devotion,  his  philanthropy,  his  mental  vigor,  his 
literary  skill — ve  are  forced  to  admit  that  there  was  somcthlrig 
about  him  Avhich  both  prevented  the  fullest  fruition  of  his  powers 
and  went  far  to  vitiate  the  usefulness  of  those  powers  even  in  the 
extciit  to  which  they  were  developed.  Wesley  was  a  liomo  unius 
llbrl.  Xowman  was  a  liomo  v.nius  noiionis.  In  the  case  of  ^yesley 
the  One  Book  was  such,  and  his  relation  to  it  was  such,  that  there 
v.-as  kept  sound  and  wholesome  his  relation  to  all  other  interests, 
human  and  divine.  In  the  case  of  Xewman  the  One  Idea  was  such, 
and  his  relation  to  it  was  such,  that  there  Avas  thrown  out  of  bal- 
ance his  relation  to  all  other  questions.  The  One  Idea  to  which 
Xewman  pinned  his  whole  faith,  and  on  which  he  literally  staked 
his  whole  existence,  was  that  there  must  be  an  objective  infallible 
luitiioriiy  ill  maltcrs  of  religion.  Once  the  idea  took  possession  of 
liiiii  he  never  rested  until  he  yielded  to  the  only  power  which  had 
ever  claimed  to  be  such  an  authority — Eome.  lie  read  history  in 
the  light  of  the  One  Idea  and  it  made  hira  misread  it.  It  domi- 
n;il(  d  him  as  he  studied  the  heresies.  It  ultimately  drove  him 
.'iway  from  Anglicanism  and  filled  his  soul  with  hatred  of  the 
Keforu)atiun.  \Vhat  mattered  it  tbat  that  Eeformation  was  really 
a  revolt  agiiin^^t  tlie  ])uerilities  and  corruptions  of  that  very  autlior- 
ity  lie  would  deify?  What  mattered  it  that  almost  every  wortliy 
iliing  in  modern  liomanism  had  resulted  from  the  internal  reforms 
f"!-fcd  upon  it  ly  thiit  great   revolt?     AVhat  mattered  it  tliat  tlie 


3G2  Methodist  Bcvicw  []\fay 

darkest  crimes  on  rtcorJ  liaJ  been  perpetrated  inidcr  the  sanction 
of  the  Holy  See  ?  There  must  he  t]ic  ohjeclivc  infallible  authority, 
and  that  authority  ^vas  .Roinc !  That  settled,  and  crimes  Nverc  no 
longer  crimes — they  Mere  ];j(.>ii.s  deeds;  ])ion?  deeds  v»-ere  no 
longer  pions  deeds— for  they  wcxq  crime?;  myths  ^verc  no  longer 
myths — they  ^-ere  lii'^toi'ical  facts;  historical  facts  %vere  no 
longer  facts — they  were  myths;  bad  men  were  no  longer  bad — 
they  were  good;  good  )nen  were  no  longer  good — they  were  bad! 
Why  all  this?  Because  there  must  be  objective  infallible 
authority;  because  ihat  authority  was  Eonie;  and  because  Eome 
had  for])ially  declared  tliis  or  that.  But  who  says  Rome  is  infal- 
lible religious  nudjorlly  ?  Home  mijs  so;  and  what  more  is  needed  ? 

Ko  one  can  be  a  Catholic  without  a  simple  faitli  that  what  the  church 
declares  in  God's  name  is  God's  word,  and  therefore  true.  A  man 
must  simply  believe  that  the  chiirch  is  the  oi'acle  ol!  God.  .  .  . 
The  church  cannot,  allov.-  her  children  the  libei'ty  of  doubting  the 
word  of  her  truth.  .  .  .  I>et  a  man  cea.se  to  inquire,  or  else  cease 
to  call  himself  her  cliild.  ...  I  did  not  believe  the  doctrine  of 
transubstautiation  till  I  was  a  Catholic.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  believing  it 
as  soon  a.s  I  believed  that  tho  Catholic  Roman  Church  v,-as  the  oracle  of 
God,  and  that  she  had  declared  this  doctrine  to  be  part  of  the  original 
revelation. 

A  final  word  ;  The  evangelical  doctrines  of  the  supremacy  of 
Christ,  the  witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  sulBciency  of  Scrip- 
ture— which  are  also  doctrines  of  that  primitive  church  which 
2S!'evvmian  professed  to  find  only  in  Borne  and  in  Roman  dogma  and 
practice — v>'0uld  have  supplied  him  with  all  thf  authority  and  cer- 
tainty which  he  needed.  ]S^ewiiiaii  jrrayed  for  the  leading  of  the 
"Kindly  Light."  \Vas  tho  light  withheld  ?  or,  being  given,  was 
its  help  ignored  ?  In  any  event,  as  the  student  traces  the  progress 
of  wliat  one  has  called  "A  Soul's  Tragedy,"  somehow  there  ring 
through  his  mind  as  an  unceasing  refrain  the  words  of  Jesus:  "If 
the  light  that  is  in  you  1.)e  darkness,  how  great  is  that  darkness!" 


^ 


K>XA,'\^  \ -eXUV^ . 


1910]  The  Moral  Ju.sponslbillhj  of  God  to  Man  3G3 


Akt.  il— the  .'moeal  kespo:xsiejltty  of  god  to 

MAX 

All  Inio  thinking  leads  ns  to  tlie  conclusion  tLat  tlie  external 
■world  is  tlie  expression  of  mind,  and  that  the  one  ahsolnte  and 
eternal  tln'nker  and  T.'orker  is  God — God,  eternal,  omnipotent, 
liolj,  and  righteous,  -who  has  filled  the  universe  -with  his  power 
and  glory,  and  has  "written  and  inscribed  on  every  law  and  atom 
his  eternal  power  and  Godhead.  The  external  world  is  the  lan- 
guage of  God — the  revelation  which  the  infinite  Uiind  has  made  to 
the  finite.  The  world  is  full  of  God.  So  impressed  and  over- 
whelmed was  the  jisalmist  in  tliose  fa.r-off  days  with  this  thought 
that  he  hroke  forth:  "The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God;  aiid 
the  firmament  showeth  his  handiwork."  God's  omnipc>tencc,  om- 
niscience, his  Avisdom,  power,  and  glory  are  over  all.  The  falling 
snowilake,  the  tiny  flc'we]-,  the  feathered  songster,  the  rolling 
seasons,  and  the  majestic  sunset  speak  of  God,  of  design,  of  an 
overruling  Providence. 

The  question  is  eternally  present — Can  God's  wisdom,  power, 
and  glory  be  seen  in  the  creation  of  man  as  in  the  laws  that  govern 
nature  ?  Consider  the  races  of  mankind  dwelling  upon  the  face  of 
the  earth;  men  of  strange  speech,  com])lex  ideas,  different  ideals, 
and  diverse  temperament.  Behold  man  placed  under  tlie  limita- 
tion of  kziowledge,  groping  in  darkness,  ignorance,  servitude  to 
enviroiirnent  and  superstition;  see  him  in  his  struggle  with  him- 
self, his  clan,  his  enemy,  devastated,  destroyed,  yet  ever  lookiiig 
up  aufl  struggling  forward.  Consider  man  in  ignorance — as  a 
caunibiil  of  the  south  sea,  as  a  dweller  in  darkness  in  the  wilds 
of  Afrir;i ;  as  a  devotee  of  fanaticism  hov/ing  before  some  hideous 
idol,  even  liftiiig  up  Innnan  sacrifice  to  appease  the  anger  of  his 
deity.  Behold  this  gruesome  sight  of  men  and  armies  in  conflict, 
in  war,  in  blood-red  carnage;  see  awful  death  and  destruction 
wallvimr  alu-ond  in  g'ajnng  wounds  and  maimed  bodies.  Sec  a 
world  of  ^in,  sorrov,  sulTering;  see  Innnan  wretchedness  and  mis- 
ery, sorrow  and  heartaclie  abounding;  the  strong  preying  on  the 
weak,  the  cunning  uj^on  the  innocent,  the  dishonest  U]^on  the  hon- 


3C4  MdliodU  Bevicw  [Maj 

oraLle.  Is  tliorc  infinite  wi.-xlom  and  goodness  behind  all  this  masa 
of  disorganized  Avretehedncs.s,  this  miferv,  sin,  and  degradation  ? 
There  is  infinite  re.sj^on.'^iljiliiy  somewhere.  The  God  v/ho  is  re- 
sponsible has  shonldered  a  great  burden.  Can  ho  in  any  way  show 
man  that  it  Avas  love  that  prompted  and  governs  all  ?  When  God 
launched  our  humanity  into  this  world,  with  its  fearful  responsi- 
bility, its  awful  pi.ssibility  for  good  and  evil,  did  not  God  put 
himself  under  infuiile  obligalion  to  take  infinite  care  of  his  crea- 
tures? God  did  ViOt  tal<e  manbind  into  his  counsel.  He  asked  no 
man's  advice  as  to  how,  wlien,  and  whei'c  he  should  endow,  create,  ■ 
and  place  man.  IMan  is  in  this  world  burdened  and  freighted  with 
tremendous  responsibililies,  even  filled  with  immortal  possibilities. 
]\Ian  lives  under  social,  jihvtical,  and  spiritual  laws  that  to  disobey, 
even  in  the  innocence  of  ignorance,  means  death  and  destruction. 
Man  finds  himself  a  living,  ]aoving,  and  thinking  mystery;  and 
yet  under  moral  obligations  to  himself,  to  others,  and  to  God. 
Z\Ian  learns  that  to  du  justly,  love  truth,  walk  uprightly,  is  wisdom, 
and  essential  for  social  well-being.  ]\Ian  learns  that  God  is  a 
Being  of  infinite  holiricss,  justice,  truth,  and  mercy,  and  that  he 
requires  man  to  Y\w  in  a  world  of  moral  chaos — a  v.-orld  of  selfish- 
ness and  sin,  a  world  of  ignorance  and  ]u'ejueiice,  strife  and  dis- 
order—  a  good  life;  moral,  upi'ight,  pure,  and  holy.  If  not,  law 
Avill  smite  him,  justice  will  condemn  him,  society  will  scorn  him, 
and  at  last  even  God  will  smite,  and  heaven  will  banish,  and  hell 
will  torn^eiit. 

Man  looks  up  and  cries  in  despair,  '''TTbat  does  all  this  mean  ? 
Where  is  the  justice,  tlie  love,  the  juercy  of  all  this?"  ]\Tan  asks, 
''What  right  had  this  IV.ing  to  create  man  and  ordain  laws  that 
smite,  and  conditions  that  degrade,  and  place  limitations  of  knowl- 
edge around  him,  and  th'-n  leave  all  to  organic  law,  and  quietlr 
M'ithdraw  and  sit  over  yonder  on  a  throne  and  view  with  apparent 
complacence  all  this  strugaling  and  sorrowiiig  and  miserable  mass 
of  human  wretcho-lness  wliirh  lie  has  Uiade  i)0ssible?''  Keasou 
says,  '"Why  a4:  man  to  do  what  tlie  God  of  creation  does  not  do?" 
Why  a'^k  man  to  live  in  a  Avoild  where  sin,  sorrow,  and  suffering 
abound?  Why  ask  man  to  struggle  toward  tlie  light  of  truth,  th'^ 
beauty  of  holiness,  with  ;i   tlionsand  hands  grasping  hi?n  to  puU 


iOJU]  Tlic  Moral  Jxcspunf-'lhWUij  of  GoJ  to  Man  3G5 

him  back?  Why  condcinn  man  for  not  finding  truth,  and  life 
(;tcrnal,  when  it  is  so  diilicult  to  find — so  many  discordant  voices, 
FO  many  isms  and  schisms,  so  many  doxies,  so  many  creeds  tliat 
-wind  and  wind  T'  Keason  sits  in  judgment  upon  creation,  and 
asks:  ''Shall  not  the  Creator  give  account  to  man?  Is  there  not 
moral  rcsj^onsibility  and  moral  accountaLility  of  God  to  man  ?  Is 
it  possible  for  intelligent  moral  beings,  that  have  struggled  to  the 
light  of  reason  amid  surrounding  conditions,  to  look  upon  the  dis- 
organized masses  of  human  misery  and  respect  a  God  that  made 
such  conditions  possil^le  and  then  com}>lacently  ]i\-ed  a]iart  fro)n 
it  all?"  Is  reason  satisfied  and  justice  placated  by  any  process 
of  inspiration  tluil  attains  to  ethical  i)reccpts  and  moral  ideals 
through  which  the  soul  can  find  its  way  to  life,  to  holiness,  to 
heaven,  to  God  ? 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  the  higher  ihc  degi-eo  of  intelligence,  the 
purer  the  reason,  the  more  revolting  would  be  its  conception  of 
such  a  God.  Man  could  not  res]-)ect  such  a  God.  Such  a  God 
could  not  respect  himself  and  be  moral.  Think  of  a  father  putting 
his  son  in  an  underground  labyrinth,  full  of  pitfalls  and  evil  beasts 
that  prey  to  desti'oy,  and  simply  giving  a  chart  of  tlie  labyrinth 
together  with  a  few  fatherly  precepts  and  then  leaving  the  son  to 
his  fate.  The  writer  hno\vs  of  a  father  w^ho  bought  a  high-spirited 
horse  and  put  the  animal  in  a  box  stall.  Upon  leaving  home  he 
told  his  two  sons,  aged  ten  and  tAvelve  years,  to  go  after  school  and 
feed  and  bed  the  horse.  The  lads  were  afraid  to  enter  tlie  Ix'X  stall 
to  bed  the  horse.  The  father  came  homo  and  found  the  work 
niid.i!ie.  IFc  got  the  boys  out  of  bed,  made  them  go  in  and  bed  the 
h(.vse,  and  then  he  tied  them  in  a  corner  of  the  stall  and  left  them 
there  all  night.  The  children  cried  and  sobbed  in  fear.  One  died 
of  brain  fever,  and  the  father  walked  to  the  grave  amid  the  angry 
threateni)igs  of  many  outraged  and  incensed  neighbors.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  say  that  millions  and  millions  of  hmnan  beings  are 
tied  in  the  bux  stall  of  (-nvironment,  of  social  conditions,  of  moral 
conditions,  that  kick  the  life  and  brains  out  of  nnnumbcred  mil- 
lions. Gaunt  famine  decimates,  the  Ganges  drowns,  the  funeral 
pyre  cremates,  witchcraft  destroys,  custom  drowns  and  damns  to  a 
v.nrse  hell  than  even  devils  invent.     Let  China,  India,  Africa,  and 


300  Mclliodid  Hcvicw  [^ay 

tbc!  isles  of  tbe  sea  spealc  of  ^v]lal  llioy  know,  aiul  then  let  lli!' 
recording  angel  N\-ritc  il  down  and  inii  it  in  jlic  book  of  remem- 
brance and  open  it  before  tbe  tbrone  eternal,  and  tben  adjust  the 
scales  and  let  justice  take  account  of  heaven's  verdict. 

lieason  says,  '''God  has  no  moral  right  to  ask  me  to  do,  and  to 
go,  and  to  live  under  condilioris  that  he  did  U(;t  live,  and  do,  and 
go,  and  be  in  himself."  Keason  says,  "Precepts,  maxims,  ideals, 
and  even  pure  triah,  are  not  sufficient  to  guide  the  soul  amid  so 
many  discordant  voices  ajid  conflicting  opinions."  Keason  savs, 
''There  is  no  respect  in  heaven  or  in  earth  for  a  God  that  says, 
'Go,'  without  first  going;  for  a  God  that  says,  'Do,'  without  first 
doing."  That  kind  of  a  God  "woidd  be  no  better  than  a  Shah  of 
Persia,  an  Abdul  of  Tuik'cy;  no  better  than  sonic  overfed,  self- 
satisfied  autocrat  who  demajids  toil  and  servitude,  or  who,  like 
Shylock  the  Jew,  demands  his  pound  of  ilcsh  regardless  of  human 
suffering.  Is  this  the  way  tbc  God  of  lieaveii,  the  God  whose  power 
and  glory  are  seen  in  the  hea>en3  above  and  the  earth  beneath, 
treats  man  ? 

.Apart  from  Christian  revelation,  apart  from  the  revelation 
which  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ 
made  in  the  person  of  his  Son,  men  are  forced  by  the  verdict  of 
])ure  reason  to  look  upon  God  the  Creator  as  just  such  an  autocrat. 
There  is  no  other  path  mai-ked  out  for  a  moral  God  to  follow,  that 
will  win  respect  and  connnendation  in  heaven  and  earth,  than  a 
self-revelation  of  a  God  of  love,  in  grace  and  in  htiman  life.  A 
God  that  cannot  enter  human  life  and  become  man's  leader  and 
guide  is  no  God,  and  one  that  could,  and  would  not,  is  not  worthy 
of  resi)cct.  Eveiy  religious  system  that  lias  been  worth  the  name 
or  recognitio7i,  that  has  given  to  the  world  any  class  of  thinkers, 
has  reached  these  or  similar  conclusions.  Take  Platonic  thought: 
^'liefore  the  visible  universe  was  made  there  must  have  existed 
the  invisible  idea  or  archetyjK-  in  tlic  mind  of  God.  For  every- 
thing, from  a  fiower  to  a  nation,  there  must  be  a  preexistcnt  idea 
<'ternal  in  the  heavens.  And  if  there  be  an  archetypal  man,  he,  too, 
nnist  be  manifest  for  a  while  in  a  human  body."  Turn  to  Kgyi>- 
tian  religious  thought.  "We  learn  that  Osiris,  the  great  hero  god  of 
that  system  of  v.ors.hip,  is  represented  as  visiting  the  earth,  suffer- 


1010]  Tlie  Moral  liC^punsilnUfij  of  Cod  io  Man  367 

ina-,  dying,  risiijg  n,^uin,  1o  bo  jntlgc  of  the  quick  and  the  (load. 
The  saino  th<'a-])t  is  oxpro.soJ  in  l^orsiaii  roligioi),  Zoroastrianism. 
liulinn  Ihoiiglit,  as  reiirosoiited  in  Buddhisn),  speaks  of  ibis  Bud- 
dha, son  of  light,  as  being  borji  of  a  virgin  .seven  centuries  before 
Christ,  to  re\eal  trutli  and  to  deliver  man  from  evil.  Those  great 
religious  systems  foreshadowed  the  Gospel  of  John,  which  says, 
"The  Logos  Avas  made  flefji,  and  dwelt  among  lis,  and  we  beheld 
his  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  o^ily  l.'Ogolton  So]i,"  etc.  The  glory 
and  gi-andcur  of  the  Old  Tos(amont  prophecies  were  that  our  God, 
the  llessiah,  was  to  do  just  this  thing.  The  glory  and  grandeur 
of  our  Christian  religion  is  that  God  did  this.  lie  took  the  world 
of  maidxind  upon  his  heart.  He  fathered  and  mothered  humanity. 
He  entered  into  the  fcllow.-hi])  of  its  sci-rows.  He  became  tho 
supreme  burdeudx'aror  and  the  leader  of  all  in  self-sacrifice.  We 
became  ''lionc  of  ouj-  bono,  flesh  of  our  flesh."  He  became  obedient 
to  the  limitations  of  the  laws  that  he  imposed  upon  nian.  He 
walked  in  the  ))ath  he  asked  man  to  walk  in.  He  lived  the  life  ho 
asked  mfin  to  live.  He  stripped  himself  of  his  glory,  and  loft  the 
light  of  hoaveii  and  came  to  earth,  because  he  loved  man,  and 
because  he  loved  to  serve  and  help  man.  There  is  no  otlicr  God 
woith  having,  worth  loving  aiid  serving,  Thc-re  is  no  other  religion 
that  appeals  to  reason,  ju.-.tico,  truth,  and  morality. 

Hi  1881  the  Berlin  Academy  of  Sciences  held  a  meeting  in 
honor  of  Leibnitz.  Dn  Bois-Beyraond  read  an  address.  His  sub- 
ject was,  'The  Seven  Biddies  of  Scionce."  He  spoke  of  the  nature 
and  origin  of  matter,  the  nature  and  origin  of  motion,  the  nature 
and  origin  of  life,  tho  mitni'o  and  origin  of  thought,  of  language, 
tho  freedom  of  the  will,  and  dosigu  in  7iature.  He  said:  "They 
challenge  all  science,  all  ihinking,  to  explain  their  origin  and 
nature.  Thoy  are  v.-rapt  in  profound  mystery."  The  quest  of  the 
ages  is  to  know  these  riddles  of  matter,  moticm,  thought,  and  voli- 
ti'tn.  Science  deals  with  the  facts,  the  phononu'Jia ;  philo-0])liy 
with  ihc  ]n-inciplfs;  literature  with  the  criticism,  and  art  with  tho 
i'rauty  of  llioso  gifts  of  tho  (Jreator  to  man.  We  study  facts,  prin- 
ciples, criticism,  and  beauty,  but  the  study  of  the  phenomena  does 
not  explain  the  origin  and  essence  of  the  things  themselves.  By 
these  seven  gifts,  or  riddles,  or  mysteries,  as  the  master  of  science 


308  Mcdtodisl  Bcricvj  [May 

calls  them,  wc  have  come  to  place  and  power.  Bv  their  magic 
power  ignorance,  tyranny,  and  hate  are  being  hauislied  from  the 
earth.  Tlirongh  tliesc  we  are  tlic  possessors  of  science,  philosophy, 
literature,  art,  and  j^hysical  foi-ces.  These  seven  gifts  have  liber- 
ated, educated,  and  om])ov\-ered  the  human  race.  These  gifts  are 
given  to  man  in  order  ihat  man  may  investigate  and  conquer  and 
possess  nature  and  inind.  "What  does  Du  Bois-Reymond  mean 
when  he  sx)eaks  of  the  nature  and  oi'igiu  of  matter,  motion,  life, 
will,  and  language  as  hcing  wrai)t  in  unfathomahlc  mystery?  He 
fcijjiply  means  tbat  all  tbe,-e  gilts  are  in  their  origin  and  essence  of 
virgin  birth;  they  are  din-et  emanations  from  the  thouglit  and 
power  of  God;  they  are  incarnations.  -'Thou  sendest  forth  thy 
spirit  and  they  arc  created." 

Science  says:  '"These  are  great  gifts;  they  are  in  exact  har- 
mony with  the  giving  of  tlu;  Creator,  with  his  omnijDotence  and 
omniscience."  Science  ai.d  pin'losophy,  literature  and  art  say  that, 
if  the  Creator  would  add  arjotber  gift,  that  gift  would  be  in  exact 
accord  with  tbe  other  gifts  so  far  as  their  and  its  origin  and  nature 
were  concerned;  and,  further,  that  this  gift  would  correspond 
with  the  other  gifts  in  lifting  man  to  a  place  of  power  through 
cooperation  with  the  gift ;  and  the  jdace  of  ])0wcr  would  correspond 
wJih  the  ]"jatu7'e  of  tlio  gift  and  the  nature  of  its  reception.  "We 
turn  to  PauFs  second  letter  to  the  Corinthians,  chapter  9,  verse  15, 
and  read,  "Tbanlcs  be  to  Cod  for  his  unspeakable  gift."  This 
refers  to  the  Christ  of  God.  \\q.  learn  regarding  his  incarnation, 
his  virgin  birth,  that  ''the  "Word,"  or  thought  of  God,  "was  made 
llesh."  We  learn  that  he.  was  "cor.ceived  by  the  Holy  Spirit"; 
thus  he  stands  before  us  as  an  unthiidcable  mystery,  as  a  myi^tery 
that  bailies  science,  phibi  ophy,  theology,  art,  and  literature  to 
ex]ilain.  His  incarnation  adds  to  the  riddles  of  science  another 
one.  This  gift  is  in  exact  accord  with  what  science,  philoso])hy, 
literature,  and  art  propose.  liy  this  gift  uns])eahable  man  also 
comes  to  a  place  of  ))ower  aivl  service  divine. 

Christ  in  his  incai-natiun  is  beyond  my  reason,  as  are  matter, 
motion,  life,  v/ill ;  but  he  is  n.ot  against  my  reastm.  lie  is  in  exact 
accord  with  my  rea--.on  enlightened  and  guided  by  science  and 
l)hi]osophy,  literature  and  ait.     lie  is  a  splendid,  living,  helping 


aOlO]  The  ?JomI  HcsponHlhUil y  of  God  to  Man  3130 

reality  to  the  heart  and  ]Jfc  of  a  Jiving  and  Lelieving  humniiiij. 
As  men  possess  Christ  in  the  same  way  thai  they  possess  mntler, 
motion,  life,  thought,  and  will,  they  conquer  and  possess  the  moral 
and  spiritual  world  and  rise  to  a  place  of  power  which  liberates, 
educates,  and  crowns  the  Innnan  race  with  that  eclc^ctic  power 
called  Christian  civilization,  and  a  living,  vital,  spiiitual  relation- 
ship with  the  Creator.  The  man  who  says,  ^1  reject  the  incarna- 
tion and  virgin  Lirth  of  Christ  because  it  is  unthinkable  and 
unscientific*'  is  him.df  irrational  and  unscientific.  He  is  au 
anomaly,  a  monstrosity  in  the  scientific  and  philosophical  world. 
As  well  reject  the  reality  of  matter,  motion,  life,  tliought,  and  will 
—these  phenomena  which  are  round  and  about  us,  within  and 
without  us— simply  because  one  does  not  understand  the  un- 
fatliomable  mysteiy  of  their  origin  and  nature  or  essence. 

Look  for  a  moment  at  the  demand  that  modcj-n  science  makes 
of  this  God  who  reveals  himself  to  man  in  terms  of  human  life. 
.Science  says  that  such  a  life  in  its  revelation  of  love  and  grace 
sliall  be  correlated  to  the  power  of  Omnipotence,  wliich  already  is 
expressed  in  the  law  of  correlation  and  conservation  of  energy  as 
seen  throughout  the  physical  world.     This  life  shall  be  correlated 
to  Omnipotence  and  draw  from  this  divine  source  such  power  that 
It  can  be  transferred  to  men  and  institutions,  giving  them  life  and 
inspiration  immeasurable,  and  at  the  same  time  remain  inexhauM- 
ible.     This  law  of  correlation  would  save  tlie  work  of  this  Divine 
Man  or  incarnate  type  from  counterfeit  or  imitation.     Look  into 
this  proposition  and  see  if  God  has  covered  his  moral  responsibility 
in  this  demand  of  science.     If  so,  he  has  given  us  a  life  and  a 
(iynonstrauon  of  power  that,  apart  from  all  Old  Testament  and 
iVew  Testament  revelation,  give  scientific  verification  tliat  that  life 
and  work  was   and   is  of  divine  origin.      Science  demonstrates, 
speaks  of,  the  conservation  of  energy,  the  transference  of  force, 
ihe  conserved  force  of  a  ton  of  coal  can  be  transmuted  into  heat, 
to  steam,  to  the  express  train.    The  conserved  ilow  of  water  can  be 
transferr(-d   to  v.ater-wheel  and   machinery.     The  t)-ec  conserves 
Minlight.     The  acorn  and  oxygen  and  carbon  and  hydrogen  and 
suulighl  are  the  equivalent  of  the  cak.     The  rising  up  of  one  force 
in  one  phiee  invulve..  the  withdrav.id  of  force  in  anoth(>r.    This  law 


370  McOiodhi  ncvicio  [Mar 

is  universal.  All  physical,  mcclianical,  electrical  effort  is  cor- 
related and  transferraLle.  The  dvnamo  givcf^  ont  no  more  than  it 
galhpj's  in.  Let  us  look  al  tliis  law  and  see  how  it  applies  to  tho 
work  and  nvJnisti-y  of  Chri-t.  Can  tho  spiritual  correlation  of 
Christ  to  tho  world  of  humanity  ho  measured  hy  tho  law  of  eon- 
sei'vat  ion  of  energy  (  lias  no  more  force  issued  from  the  person 
of  Christ  thjin  siihsidcd  when  only  a  man  named  Jesus  was  cruci- 
fied ?  If  Jesus  Chiist,  as  love,  is  correlated  to  the  spiritual  needs 
of  the  human  race  as  the  sun  is  correlated  to  the  physical  needs, 
then  we  have  a  life  peculiar  and  unique,  and  a  life  that  meets  the 
exacting  demands  of  the  scientist. 

We  know  that  all  physical  force  in  the  solar  system  is  trace- 
ahle  to  the  sun.    Dr.  Lee  pertinently  asks: 

Where  are  all  conserved  forces  of  Christian  liter.'iture  and  Christiau 
power  traceable  to?  All  Christian  ideals,  principles,  forces,  philanthropy, 
love,  goodness,  peace,  power,  come  directly  from  Christ,  as  heat  comes  from 
the  sun,  as  coal  comes  from  carbon.  There  is  the  conserved  force  of  Chris- 
lian  literature.  Christian  art,  of  Christian  philanthropy,  of  Christian 
love,  faith,  zeal,  inspiration.  This  conserved  force  talces  form  in  churches, 
educational  institutions,  missionary  work,  love,  service,  sacrifice;  these 
are  correlated  directly  to  Christ.  Not  one  pound  of  energj-  more  out  of 
coal  or  wood  or  cas  tli-in  v.-as  con.scrvfd  in  them. 

The  transference  of  energy  is  correlated  to  its  conserved 
powc]-. "  The  transference  of  Christian  energy  is  correlated  to  the 
conserved  power  of  Christ.  The  sun  expresses  its  transference  of 
energy  in  the  forests,  trce>,  garden.s,  etc. 

The  Christ  ex])resses  hirarclf  in  transference  of  energy  of  life,  love, 
power  in  the  hearts  and  lives  of  millions  and  millions  of  men  and  women 
and  institutions,  the  happiest  and  holiest  and  purest  and  most  blessed  in 
all  the  world.  Take  the  domc=lic,  social,  political,  and  ecclesiastical 
Institutions  tliat  bear  his  name  and  live  up  to  his  teachings. 

Lrom  whence  this  pov/er? 

From  a  poor  .Tew  with  no  Ror\n\  position,  no  money,  no  army,  no 
college;  from  one  who  nover  wrote  a  book,  from  one  who  was  crucified 
as  a  malefactor,  as  a  disturber  of  .social  tranquillity  along  with  thieves 
and  murderers. 

All  ]']iysical  force  can"  he  measured.     Xo  more  force  rises  up 
than  suhsides.    Action  and  reaction  are  equal. 

Was  that  young  Man's  life  of  three  years,  seemin.ii;ly  so  insignificant 
and  weak-,  the  exact  equivalent  of  all  the  Christiau  churches  and  colleges. 


]0J0]  The  Moral  Ikcsponslhilihj  of  God  io  Man  STl 

art,  literature,  homes,  and  governmcul,  sacrifice  and  heroism,  patience  and 
love,  faith  and  hope,  that  have  resulted  from  the  lifo  and  ministry  of 
that  young  I\Iaa?     If  so,  was  he  only  a  man? 

3iliilt!])]y  llirec  years  by  jxjvo'ty,  toil,  contempt,  sorro-^',  and  cruci- 
fixion riiKl  you  have  one  product. 

Multiply  twenty  centuries  hy  hundreds  of  thousands  of  ehurche.^, 
schools,  and  colleges,  and  bj^  hundreds  of  millions  of  transformed  lives 
aud  happy  homes;  then  by  poems  and  songs,  paintings  and  embellished 
art;  then  by  success  and  triumph,  conquest,  love,  mercy,  and  trutli;  then 
by  a  hold  upon  the  hearts  and  lives  of  humanity  uncqualcd  by  all  tlio 
other  world's  great  men;  then  by  the  glorious  hope  of  glory,  honor,  and 
immortality  inherent  in  the  Christian's  lifo,  and  you  have  another 
immeasurable  prod  act — a  product  that  carries  you  into  the  infinite. 

Wbcuce  all  this  power?  AVliciice  the  correlation  and  trans- 
ference of  |)ower  ?  Can  Christ's  life  be  accounted  for  from  siiujily 
a  human  side?  Can  i\nj  human  j-»hilosophy  or  logic,  can  any 
appeal  to  liuman  reason  account  for  this  any  more  than  they  can 
account  for  the  origin  of  matter  or  mind  ?  Is  there  any  rule  or 
scientific  principle  hnown  by  which  the  unique  life  and  power  can 
be  chissilied  and  labeled?  Call  him  a  mere  man,  the  paradox 
deepens.  Take  him  at  his  own  valuation.  AceejVj  his  own  esti- 
mation and  honesty.  He  said:  ^'AU  power  is  given  unto  mc  in 
heaven  and  in  earth."  On  no  other  premise  can  we  account,  for  liis 
life  and  work  and  iuflueiice.  Christ  is  the  incarnate  Word  of  God, 
and  God  reA'caled  to  man  as  the  ^'unspeakable  gift"  and  yet  as  the 
unfalhoniable  n-iyslery.  It  is  ea.sy  to  assume  tliat  any  system,  tlic 
center  of  which  is  gradually  losing  its  force,  i^  usiTig  itself  up. 

Clirist  is  the  center,  the  sun  of  the  Christian  world.  He  is  pouring 
his  force,  his  love,  his  life,  and  his  spirit  into  the  hearts  aud  lives  of 
million.s  of  men  and  women,  churches  and  institutions;  they  are  growing 
Tidier  in  love  and  faith,  hope,  and  power,  and  still  Christ  lives  and  gives; 
and  as  he  gives  new  power  is  generated.  Instead  of  becoming  poorer 
ho  becomes  richer.  The  power,  the  love  that  he  gives  away  come  back 
lo  him  increased  by  the  love  and  service  of  all  who  receive  him. 

This  places  the  life  of  Christ  in  tlie  exact  class  that  sciiuce 
ddiiand.-;— -;i  unirpie  ])lace  that  cannot  be  duidicated.  His  lifi* 
caniiut  be  classilicd  with  any  other  life  or  measured  by  any  nih\ 
ft  is  correlated  to  (lod  himself  and  expresses  the  transference  of 
inlinlte  jiower  to  finite  needs.     As  Dr.  Lee  ]mts  it:  ''I'lie  object  ot 


372  Methodist  L'cvicw  l^^^J 

which  hunger  is  the  subject  is  Lrend.  The  ohjcct  of  vrhich  intellect 
is  the  subject  is  trutli.  The  object  of  which  art  is  the  subject  is 
beauty.  The  object  of  v;hic]i  the  spiritual  nature  is  the  subject 
is  Jesus  C'lirl^t."  As  the  enibo'.linieut  of  truth,  love,  and  righteous- 
ness, the  huinaii  s^n'rit  finds  in  Cln'i-t.  the  climate  and  the  con- 
dition exaciiy  adapted  to  its  need  and  hii!,hest  realization.  To  be 
an  oak  is  to  grow  out  of  tho  acorn  and  to  assimilate  the  natural 
elements  of  the  natural  woj'ld.  To  be  a  Christian  is  to  grov/  out 
of  Christ  and  to  assimil;ile  the  spiritual  life  of  the  spiritual  world, 
and  this  is  inexliaustllile. 

Let  us  tur]i  for  a  ]]io]nent  to  the  de]nand  of  philosoi")hy.  Let 
Plalo  or  Zcno  state  it.  J^^garding  this  archetype,  the  perfectly 
righteous  man,  he  says:  *'Ilc  must  needs  not  bo  guilty  of  one  un- 
righteous act,  and  yet  labor  all  of  his  life  under  the  imputation  of 
being  utteidy  unrighteous,  in  order  thai  Ids  disinterestedness  may 
be  thoroughly  tested."  I'y  proceeding  in  such  a  course  he  must 
arrive  inevitably  at  bonds  and  scourge  and  lastly  at  the  cross. 
Interpret  this  into  practical  language  and  ^^■e  have  the  following: 
Tliis  archetype,  or  God  incarnate,  must  use  as  the  ideals  and  prin- 
cijdcs  of  his  kingdom  wliat  no  other  vrorld  conqueror  ever  used, 
and  could  not  use  if  ho  tried.  This  perfectly  righteous  man  must 
appeal  to  man's  un.-:elG-h  and  disinterested  v.-orldly  andjillon.  He 
nnist  use  wliat  olher  ^\■o)■ld  conquero]-s  cast  aside.  lie  must  not 
make  conditions  of  service  in  his  kingdom  sensual  or  carnal;  he 
must  offer  no  position  of  ease,  no  money,  no  pleasure,  no  social 
distinction;  but  a  sphere  of  service,  unselfish,  loving,  in  which 
the  strong  will  bear  the  bui'don  of  the  v.-eak,  in  ^^•hic.•lL  the  leader 
is  the  servant  of  tlje  many,  in  which  men  are  called  to  die  to  self- 
seeking,  and,  if  necessary,  to  ]nck  up  tho  cross  aiul  carry  it  to 
Calvary,  iie  on  it,  ami  die  rather  tlian  seek  one's  owu  ease  or 
pleasure  or  relinquish  (oie's  ideals. 

Who  in  all  history  exactly  met  this  demand,  and  fulfdled  in 
life  wli.'it  philosophic  tln-uglit  saw  as  an  absolutely  perfect  ideal  in 
this  archetype  of  incaiiia.to  ]3ei(y'?  Turn  to  tlie  Cln-ist.  lie  did 
not  7jiake  the  conditioTi  of  discipkship  sensual  or  carnal.  ]Tc 
olTerf  d  not  life  but  death.  He  offered  not  ])leasuro  l)ut  pain.  lie 
built  his  kingdom  on  sacrifice  and  service;  he  called  men  to  die  to 


1010]  The  Moral  licsponsibiiUi/  of  God  lo  Man  S7'3 

<;o]f  HTid  to  llif  world's  pleasure.  ''}lc  tlial  forsaketli  not  father 
.'lud  jiiotlKr,  Lr(*tlier  «iik1  sister,  houses  and  lands  for  ray  sake  can- 
not be  my  disciple.--  lie  said  lo  the  rich  young  man,  ''Sell  all 
tluit  thou  hast,  give  lo  the  poor,  coine  and  follow  me."  To 
]\f:ttthew,  the  tax-gatherer,  he  says,  "Follow  me."  To  Teter, 
,T:nncs,  aiid  O'ohn:  "Leave  your  nets,  fishing  boats;  follow  mc." 
Then  we  hear  him:  "The  foxes  have  holes,  the  birds  of  the  air  liavo 
nests ;  the  Son  of  man  has  not  where  to  lay  his  head." 

The  work  and  ministry  of  Jesus  Christ  was  a  new  departure 
in  human  life,  yet  a  departure  in  perfect  accord  with  the  de- 
mands of  reason  and  philosophy  as  suggested  by  Plato  and  a.^ 
demanded  by  science.  Christ's  birth  and  life  and  work  and  min- 
istry are  iio  more  of  a  de])arture  from  what  we  call  Jiatural  law 
than  was  the  introduction  or  virgin  birth  of  life,  of  consciousness, 
of  vx-ill,  of  thought.  Plato  says:  "This  archetype,  this  ])ei-fectly 
righteous  life,  must  be  guilty  of  not  one  unrighteous  act,  and  yet 
labor  all  his  life  under  the  imputation  of  being  utterly  nnright- 
eou-."  Look  at  Christ's  life:  Is  it  not  the  only  original,  absolute, 
unselfish  life  that  has  ever  been  lived?  His  ideals,  precepts,  and 
truths  transcend  all  other  products  of  the  human  mind  as  tho 
mountains  transcend  the  foothills.  His  character  and  prlncijiles 
are  unique.  He  seeks  a  new  humanity,  a  new  and  spiritual  ty])e, 
and  from  this  new  type  he  purposes  to  recreate  a  new  race,  a  new 
humaniiy,  vdiose  ideals  and  principles  are  to  incoritorato  what. 
Christ  represented  in  life  and  ])recept.  Gustavo  Dore,  in  his 
painting,  "'The  Triumph  of  Christianity,"  represents  the  Chii-t 
steadily  advancing,  bearing  the  cross,  while  before  hiiu  all  tho 
gods  of  heathenism  are  overthrown.  Christ  wins  his  way  not 
simply  by  overthrov.ing  l)ut  by  regenerating,  cleansing,  purifying, 
and  transformijig.  His  sjiirit  permeates  old  creeds,  casts  out  the 
false  and  ba?e,  and  sanctities  the  ])ure  and  true.  He  has  fulfiib'd 
the  ideals  of  the  ]>ast  and  paves  the  way  for  a  diviner  future 
All  types  and  shadows  of  Jewish  economy,  all  heathen  sigiis,  all 
thoughts  and  philosophies,  as  we  have  seen,  point  forward  to  such 
an  incarnation  as  Christ  represents.  Science  casts  xiyt  its  iron- 
bound  demands,  science  brings  its  inductive  and  incisive  thinking, 
science  lifts  its  exacting  scales,  brings  its  infallible  test,  the  h-i\T 


374:  MciJiodist  I^cvino  [May 

of  correlation,  iLe  traii?ferfiic('  and  conservation  of  energy,  and 
the  Christ  and  Clirif-.tianily  nicc-t  even  lliis  demand.  Philosophy 
delves  into  the  realm  of  reasoii,  postldale^s  its  exacting  premise  of 
incisive,  cogent  thinking,  demands  the  realization  of  the  ideal,  and 
forthwith  steps  forth  the  divine  archetype,  the  incarnate  Christ, 
and  meets  and  fulfills  the  recjuirements  of  philosophy.  Science 
and  philosophy  nncover  their  heads,  hoary  with  age  and  yet  wet 
with  the  dews  of  the  morning  of  perennial  yonth,  and  say:  "'SYo 
have  Him  whom  the  light  of  pure  reason  iind  the  scales  of  induc- 
tive science  have  souglit" — Jesus  of  jSIar/.areth,  the  Sou  of  God, 
infinite,  eternal,  and  omnipotent. 

And  thus,  by  a  process  of  reason  which  the  mind  imposes 
upon  itself,  does  pure  reason  dethrone  that  fanatical  false  god, 
called  ^'modern  rationalisui,"  which  denies  the  self-revelation  of 
God  in  grace  and  love  in  tlie  person  of  the  Clu'ist.  Modern 
rationalism,  inoder]i  Unitarianism,  and  so-called  reformed  Judaism 
Btand  before  the  \ery  t)-i banal  which  they  evoke  to  sustain  their 
proyjosition,  without  a  postulate  sustained  by  reason  or  science  or 
philosophy.  Its  bridge  is  a  pons  asinorum,  renting  in  the  air  with 
span  reaching  nowhere. 


(3^ne,d  ^*i1^y>. 


1010]  Piilpil  Maiuicrisms  and  Manners  875 


Akt.  hi.— PlILPIT  :MAKXErv]SMS  AXD  MAXXERS 

Wi:  dare  not  ircnl  lliis  PubJLCt  in  a  fault-fiiidiug  or  c}'nical 
spirilj  remcinboriiig  tlie  coiuniaiid,  "'Touch  not  mine  anointed,  and 
do  my  prophets  no  harm."  The  topic  may  seem  comj^aratively 
triviah  ]t  is  not  so  ^dicn  ^ve  consider  that  manner  and  mannerism 
arc  to  the  function  of  the  preaclier  as  art  to  the  marhle  column. 
The  manner  beautifies  and  decorates,  \vbile  mannerism  defaces,  dis- 
integrates, and  cove]-s  with  moss  and  brambles.  It  is  a  peculiarity 
of  style  carried  to  excess  till  it  becomes  offensive.  "We  use  the 
Avord  "pulpit"  in  a  general  sense,  covering  the  functions  of  the 
preacher  both  in  and  out  of  the  desk.  Any  peculiarities  distin- 
guish liiiu  hi  all  his  relations  to  the  public.  The  strenuousne^s  of 
liis  life  is  liable  to  make  its  impress  r.pun  the  entire  man  more 
markedly  than  is  obsfrvablc  in  the  other  learned  professions. 
There  is  a  professional  lingo  with  the  doctor;  the  lawyer  tises 
language  peculiar  to  the  courtroom  and  the  legal  adviser,  hut  pos- 
j^ibly  they  do  not  mark  their  subjects  so  conspicuously  as  do  the 
mannerisms  of  the  clergyman.  They  are  less  exposed.  Is  it  ]iot 
true  that  tlic  stronger  men  of  life's  varied  callings  so  rise  al.)Ove 
mere  technicality  as  to  resemble  each  other,  as  a  great  brotherhood, 
while  weaklings  are  overgro^\^i  with  affectation  ? 

WTiat  we  have  felt  and  seen 
With  confidence  we  tell. 

I.  I3oth  manners  aiid  mannerisms  aff'cct  the  clergyman  in  his 
dress  as  well  as  address.  If  he  desires  to  wear  the  straight-breasted 
coat  and  the  white  tie,  do  not  hinder  him.  It  may  cause  some 
people  to  thy  as  he  approaches,  while  others  may  be  attracted.  He 
will  need  the  more  brotherliuess  to  overcome  a  seeming  difference 
between  him  and  the  common  pco])le.  The  Salvation  Army  unl- 
f'jrni  is  ai)])ropriate  and  encouraging.  The  white-b<->rdcred  black 
of  til.'-  deaconess  is  pleading,  and  is  her  protection.  ]>oth  arc  hand- 
Fomer  than  the  ''Merry  AVidow"  liat  or  its  successor,  so  like  an 
in\(rtcd  v,-af.r  bucket.  The  bine  uniform  becomes  the  soldier,  the 
pollccnian  and  the  railway  ofiieer.  If  v,h11  fitting,  the  dark  suit,  if 
iJot  worn  glo.-sy,  befits  the  clorgynjan,  but  to  dress  like  a  dude  be- 


376  Method  id  ncview  [May 

littles  him.  Bis  loaniier  of  address  and  heartiness  of  handshake 
may  help  or  Jiinde]-.  There  maj  he  an  assumed  familiaril}-  in  call- 
ing people  hy  their  first  names,  and  familiarizing-  yet  more  hy  such 
pot  names  as  ''Jimmie,"  "Billy,"  "Sally."  This  is  always  a  risk, 
and  rarely  apjn'ceiated  l)y  those  so  addressed.  Indeed,  it  is  only 
safe  within  a  narrow  eirck'  of  intiniatcs.  The  Eeverend  Brother 
Gusher  would  say,  "So  glad  1  met  yon.  T  was  on  my  way  to  call." 
The  kind  layman  said  to  me,  "I  knew  it  was  for  elYect,"  The 
Iveverend  Doctor  Hercules  had  a  powerful  grip,  and  would 
smile  at  your  pain  ^^-heu  sliaking  hands.  "Let  your  inodoration 
ho  known." 

II.  In  visitiiig  from  house  to  house  ho  needs  tact.  lu  niy 
first  pasto]-ate  I  followed  a  veteran  of  great  strength  of  character 
and  power  a*  a  preacher.  I  felt  the  need  of  a  model  such  as  he, 
but  soon  found  it  necessary  to  break  with  his  plan  of  visiting  every 
church  family  o]ice  a  quarter.  Our  Book  of  Discipline  says,  "'Go 
to  those  wlio  want  you  aiid  to  those  who  want  you  inost."  I  soon 
found  that  in  visiting  in  the  honjos  during  the  daytime  I  was 
spending  my  attention  upon  that  memher  of  the  household  surest 
of  heaven,  the  Avife  and  mother,  v/hile  the  husband  was  bufi'eting 
the  world  and  the  children  wei-e  oH  at  scliool.  I  began  to  do  more 
pastoral  y;o}'1:  on  the  street,  in  the  store,  in  shop  and  in  school, 
being  earefnl  to  Lc  brief  and  timely,  according  to  situation.  In 
visiting  the  sick  the  pastor's  bt-aring  should  not  be  a  prononitor  of 
death.  The  doctor  and  he  should  have  such  a  good  understanding 
as  to  supplement  each  other.  Xcver  sliould  he  interfere  with  the 
good  result  of  the  physician's  visit,  and  only  in  case  death  seems 
inevitable  should  his  function  rise  superior  to  that  of  the  doctor. 
Ife  will  not  dwell  upon  the  syjii])toms  of  the  sick,  but  cheerfullj 
divert  as  far  as  po.-sible  tlie  attention  of  the  sutrerer.  He  may  be 
jocular,  but  too  niueh  seasoning  spoils  the  food. 

III.  How  shall  he  ap])i-oaeh  the  puljnt  ?     Cowper  says: 

I  say  tbe  pulpit,  in  the  sober  use 

Of  its  legitimate  peculiar  powers, 

Must  stand   acknowledpcd   vhilo   the   •world   shall   stand 

The  most  iraj)ortant  and  cQ'ec.tual  guard. 

Support,  aud  ornaracut  of  virtue's  cause. 


1010]  Fulpii  2iau)icrisms  and  Manners  377 

This  fact  ndds  importaiico  to  his  bearing  as  ho  approachos  the 
sacred  dc-sk.  He  is  fortunate  if  there  be  a  vestry  from  ^hich  he 
can  quietly  approacli  the  pulpit,  and  still  more  fortunate  if  there 
alone,  or  surrounded  1)y  praying  brethren,  he  receives  anointing 
for  his  sacred  work.  If  less  forlunale  he  must  enter  bv  the  aisle. 
llis  bearing  may  be  a  precursor  and  a  preparation  for  the  services 
to  follow.  A  kindly  humorous  layman,  an  admirer  of  the  new 
minister,  said,  "He  enlers  the  church  as  if  pursued  hy  a  horiiet, 
and  then  preaches  as  if  commanding  five  hundred  'Wideawakes'  " 
— a  political  order.  Being  a  gifted,  earnest  minister,  ho  suca^eded. 
Hovv'  can  I  ever  foi'get  the  impressive  spectacle  when  Dr.  Edward 
Thompson  and  V>y.  J.  P.  Durbin  entered  the  sanctuary  side  by 
side,  both  small,  dignified,  self-possessed  ?  It  was  the  first  time  we 
Ohio  \Yesleyan  University  students  had  heard  Durbin.  At  first 
we  were  disappointed  with  lhe  drawling  voice  and  slowness  of 
u'icvance — which  suddcnh'  gave  way  to  a  burst  of  genuine  elo- 
qnence,  like  the  exjilo-ion  of  a  meteor.  From  that  on  the  fascina- 
tion was  overpowering.  He  proved  himself  anolhcr  Chrysostom. 
It  vvas  said  of  him  that  his  manner  of  opening  a  church  service  was 
marked  with  great  composure,  everything  having  been  arranged. 

Shall  the  ministx-r  kneel  on  first  entering  the  pulpit?  !^^r. 
Beecher  said  to  the  Yale  divinity  students,  ''.Nor  can  I  avoid  a 
feeling  of  di5i:)leasure,  akin  to  that  Avhich  Christ  felt  wlien  he  con- 
demned prayer  at  the  street  coi-ncrs,  Avheu  I  see  a  man  bow  douni 
himself  in  the  pulpit  to  say  his  prayers  on  first  entering."  I'ho 
j^lethodist  ritual  says,  "Let  all  our  people  kneel  in  silent  jirayei-  on 
entering  (he  sanctuary."  They  are  not  likely  so  to  do  without  the 
preacher's  exani])le.  Do  we  not  waste  our  opportunity  as  Prot- 
estants by  frivolous  social  visiting  instead  of  reverent  waiting? 
"We  might  learn  froin  the  Koman  Catholic  in  this. 

How  shall  he  handle  the  announcements?  Where  draw  a 
lino?  Must  he  exhort  in  behalf  of  concert  and  festival?  Shall 
the  traveling  religious  show  influence  him  with  com])limentary 
ticlirts  ?  Shall  he  incur  v.  rath  by  ignoring  part  of  the  list  ?  -M  uch 
relief  is  found  in  the  printed  bulletin  distribnled  in  the  pews  an- 
nouncing all  except  emergent  cases.  Loi  not  that  bulletin  be  spoiled 
v.'iili  his  juctnre,  ordinarily  a  deformity  wiih  a  smack  of  egotism. 


378  Mclhodid  L'cviciu  [^fiy 

Shall  be  wear  tlie  pulj^nt  gown  ?  In  some  Protestant  churcbes 
to  appear  otherwise  would  be  nnseemly.  ]Iabit  excludes  it  from 
others.  It  might  have  embarrassed  Ilenrj  Ward  Bcccher  or 
Charles  II.  Spurgeon.  Such  sermons  as  I  liavc  heard  from  both 
it  were  hard  to  cripple  witb  an  outward  garnient.  I  heard  Charles 
S.  Eobinson  in  tlic  American  cbapd  in  Paris  and  Canon  Lyddon 
in  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral,  London.  Eacli  pn-ached  in  a  gowni. 
The  Presbyterian  and  the  English  churchman  both  preached  so 
memorably  as  to  never  be  forgotten.  The  surpliecd  choir  elimi- 
nates rivalry  in  dress,  subdues  frivolity,  and  tends  to  reverence. 
The  college  gown  is  becoming,  the  judicial  robe  adds  dignity;  so 
may  the  surjolice  become  the  pulj)it.    I  prefer  the  Prince  Albert. 

What  shall  he  do  \\illi  liis  hands?  Make  gestures.  A  large 
proportion  of  American  jn-oacliej-s  thrust  tbeir  hands  into  their 
pockets.  Dr.  Broadus,  at  the  head  of  the  Sonthern  Baptist  Theo- 
logical Seminary  in  Louisville  for  many  years,  declared  it  vulgar. 
If  the  preacher  cannot  without  self-consciousness  break  the  habit, 
let  him  pin  np  his  pockets  on  Sunday  morning.  There  are  those 
whose  hands  and  arms  rcniind  one  of  a  windmill,  and  so  divert 
attention  from  the  minister's  message.  Tom  Corwin,  that  wizard 
of  Western  stump  oratory,  \roidd  often  say  more  at  the  end  of  a 
gi-eat  sentence  by  the  gestui-e  with  which  he  concluded  his  eloquent 
utterances  than  .is  said  in  itiany  a  sentence.  The  graceful  move- 
ment of  his  hand,  accouipanied  by  a  knowing  look  and  shake  of  the 
head,  would  bring  shouts  of  laughter  and  applause  from  the  en- 
tranced audience.  But  even  this  would  have  become  tiresome  as  a 
mannerism.  The  motion  of  tlic  hand  should  so  accompany  the 
thought  and  its  utterance  as  to  unite  both  tongue  and  gesture  in 
carrying  home  the  truth. 

Pulpit  prayers  wlicn  extempore  may  become  more  formal  by 
repetition  than  if  printed.  Some  are  grandiloquent,  having  come 
down  thi'ough  generations.  How  the  suppliants  wotdd  be  surprised 
if  answered!  In  others  much  information  is  given  to  the  Lord 
and  the  congregation.  Somciinics  wrongdoers  are  publicly  wbipped 
through  .so-called  })rayers.  Cut  out  from  some  prayers  repetitions, 
addresses  to  the  Deity,  and  afllrmations  of  unworthiness,  and  very 
little  would  remain  except  tbe  "Ameji."    A  young  man  having  left 


1010]  Fulpii  Munnryistns  and  Manners  370 

b.onic  for  a  rcsidciico  in  ^cw  York  ^\•rotc,  ''^rotlier,  I  went  to  licar 
},lr.  JjCC'cher.  .]]i  his  jiraycr  he  took  hold  cdi  God  with  ono  liand 
and  hiid  the  otllor  on  my  liead.  I  t^hall  he-long  to  his  church.'' 
Picsidcnt  Eliot  say.-:  ''In  those  denominations  which  permit  ex- 
temporaneous public  ])rajer  the  niinisU-r  possesses  that  tremendous 
influence.  Leading  m  prayer  wtirthily  is  the  most  exalted  effort 
of  the  human  niiud.  The  power  of  such  prayer  is  pervasive  anrl 
enduring  beyond  all  imagination.  It  may  at  any  moment  give  to 
the  listener  a  thrill  which  runs  through  all  his  being,  and  deter- 
mine the  quality  not  only  of  his  own  life  hut  of  many  of  those 
lives  which  will  derive  from  his.'" 

Pronunciation  and  enunciation  must  result  fi'om  training 
outside  of  the  puljnt.  Even  school  children  will  be  atiraclcd  and 
])leas!>d  by  evident  acquaint aiice  on  the  i)ar{  of  ihe  preacher  v.ilh 
the  dictionary.  If  he  ever  goes  to  the  low  level  of  slang  he  will 
lose  his  inilu.ence  over  an  invaluable  part  of  his  audience,  and  il 
is  doubtful  whether  those  for  whom  he  is  thus  fishing  really  take 
the  bail.  "What  he  gains  in  sensation  is  more  than  balanced  by 
\\hat  lie  loses  in  conviction.  When  a  log  has  broken  loose  fron\ 
a  boom,  and  is  on  the  verge  of  the  falls  from  which  it  might  never 
be  recovered,  the  lumberman  must  use  any  grapple  within  reach. 
But  this  is  purely  exceptional ;  so  should  it  he  with  sensationalism, 
and  especially  slang.  He  shou.ld  modernize  thought  and  language 
hut  in  purest  English.  !Most  of  our  evangelists,  being  collpge. 
graduates,  are  fiee  from  pulpit  slang,  though  the  few  who  indulge 
in  it  are  having  multitudes  of  mimics  who  but  weaken  their  power 
as  preaehers.  ]\toody  avoided  slang,  so  does  Gypsy  Smith.  ''Hear 
me,"  "I  tell  you  right  now,"  are  helittliug.  ^Majiy  puljnt  men 
fall  into  had  habits  traceable  to  the  school-teacher  and  the  college 
professor.  One  is  in  the  form  of  prefix  and  suffix  to  Avords  while 
bridging  over  from  one  sentence  to  another.  Thus  they  inlcrjeeL 
with  great  frequency  "Ah,"  ''Ugh,"  "Eh."  One  may  hear  a  min- 
i.-ler  say  "The-ah-text-ah-may  he-ah-found  in-ah-.\rark,"  or  he  may 
htaie,  "Manna  felhah-froni  ah-heaven  for  man-ah-'s  use."  In  this 
way  many  an  auditor  falls  far  behind  in  effort  to  understand  how 
much  of  lljc  h"!Uence  is  to  be  left  out.  This  mannerism  is  widely 
pievalcnl  among  scholarly  as  well  as  illiterate  ])reachcr5.     Jjcwarc 


3S0  Mclhodist  llcciew  [May 

of  irreverent  pcrvosions  of  Scripture  by  puiiriiiig  or  otherwise. 
It  may  desiroy  iJie  sacrediiess  of  a  passage  and  associate  it  in 
memory  \\i\\\.  triili  s. 

Shall  he  stand  still,  or  move  ahont?  Both  alternately.  Said 
a  friendly  loyman,  '"'Our  ]>rcaclier  paced  the  rostrum  sixty  times 
yesterday — ajid  it  was  jiot  a  good  day  for  pacing,  either."  There 
i<  a  mannerism  which  niay  Ix-  cailt.d  orating — a  vociferous  imita- 
tion of  eloquence  such  as  is  never  indulged  in  by  the  foremost 
si-)eakers,  religious  or  political.  Daniel  Webster  was  free  froiii  it. 
IJeturning  from  a  lecture  by  "Wendell  Phillips  in  Columbus,  Ohio, 
I  overheard  people  comment  with  a  note  of  disappointment,  saying, 
^'I  thopght  he  was  a  great  ovalor."  Yet  he  had  held  his  audience 
in  profoundest  attention.  Vriiiiam  Jennings  Bryan,  makes  tho 
audience,  no  matter  how  large,  distinctly  hear  his  first  sentence, 
and  all  through  to  the  end  there  is  an  earnestness  and  personal 
touch  which  adds  moral  gr;indeur  to  his  most  common  utterance 
and  entiths  him  to  rank  among  the  foreinost  orators  of  the  day. 
lie  has  manner  without  mannerism.  ''I  hate  oratory,"  said  Spur- 
geon.  lie  reminded  one  of  President  Garileld  in  naturalness.  If 
the  preacher  is  intellectually  and  religiously  wide  awake,  he  will 
not  need  to  fling  at  "science  and  philosophy"  while  the  results  of 
each  contribute  to  and  surround  all  his  work,  in  and  out  of  the 
pulpit.  It  is  a  cheap  bid  for  ajiproval  from  the  unthinking.  Xor 
need  he  swing  in  the  other  direetion,  assuming  to  be  ^'up  to  date," 
ringing  the  changes  on  "environment,"  "evolution,"  and  "out 
along  these  lines."  Such  phrases  inay  be  helpful  occasionally,  but 
most  of  the  audience  want  to  get  away  from  disputation  and  doubt, 
and  would  pi-efer  "surroundin.gs"  to  "environment,"  and  some 
plainer  words  than  "psychological  moment,"  "psychophysics,"  and 
the  like.  He  had  better  !^ay  little  about  Homer,  Ajax,  Hercules, 
Demosthenes,  Cicero,  and  Shakespeare,  and  spending  his  time  on 
'•'this  one  thing,"  "by  all  means  save  some.'" 

How  long  shall  the  sermon  be?  That  depends  lai-gvly  on 
A^hether  lie  or  the  chorister  is  in  charge  of  public  service.  A  ritual 
is  greatly  helpful  as  the  part  for  the  laity,  and  should  seldom  be 
eliminated  or  much  abbreviated.  If  anything  is  cut  out,  let  it  be 
the  song  ditties  or  concert  anthems.     The  Bev.  Dau  Young,  who 


3  010]  Pulj'ii  Maj}ncris)ns  and  Maimers  aSl 

liad  Loon  in  yoiUh  a  collcag-nc  of  Bishop  Jlcdding,  said  to  Chaplain 
}*IcCabc,  '"lirotlKT  ITcCabe,  I  came  to  borrow,  to  borrow,  to  bor- 
row, to  borrow  your  hoe,  your  hoe,  your  hoe,  your  hoc."  lie  re- 
peated it  a  half  dozen  times  and  then  said,  'That  is  an  anthem." 
Often  the  serjiion  is  spoiled  by  brevity  neeessitated  by  such  per- 
fonnances.  ''The  guild  of  organists"  are  reformers  in  the  right 
direction.  "When  the  lad  was  asked,  "What  did  the  preacher  talk 
aboul  ?"  "About  an  hour,"  said  he.  Leaving  off  his  mannerisms 
he  may  succeed  in  a  half  hour  in  delivering  his  message,  ])ut  the 
great  preachers  have  seldom  been  confined  to  less  Ihnn  an  hour. 
"How  Io]ig?'-'  is  like  asking  how  tall  a  tree  should  be,  oi-  the  lirojici- 
leiiglh  of  a  river.  The  serrjion  is  the  great  gxm  of  Protestant  Chris- 
tianity. Spike  it.  burst  it,  dismount  it,  di^^maiUle  it,  and  the  batik- 
is  lost. 

Shall  he  read  his  sermons?  On  this  question  uniformity 
ought  not  to  be  possible.  Usually  he  sliould  write  out  in  full  about 
what  he  is  going  to  say.  If  he  use  a  manuscript,  let  it  lie  only  as 
the  marksjuan  sometimes  wants  a  rest  for  his  rific — tliat  his  shot 
inay  be  iuore  accurate;  but  the  man  so  steady  as  to  fire  offhand  is 
the  better  marksman  of  the  two.  We  have  knovvTi  men  whose 
greatest  success  was  in  free  delivery  from  a  manuscript  and  others 
vrhom  it  would  have  eiubarrassed. 

Shall  he  announce  his  themes  in  advance,  especially  on  the 
topics  of  the  day?  This  may  be  overdone,  and  also  wj-ongfully 
neglected.  Wl^eu  on  a  visit  to  Philadelphia  I  looked  through  the 
Saturday  paper  for  pulpit  announcements.  I  avoided  the  sensa- 
tional, S(;leeting  the  modest  statement  of  ])reaching  services.  T  was 
luingry  for  the  Gosjiel,  and  Dr.  Hatfield,  the  preacher,  furnished 
the  foa^t.  In  Columbus,  Ohio,  was  a  fine  young  preacher  in  a 
strong  church.  A  new  resident,  high  in  i  ailroad  control,  remarked, 
"There  must  be  something  weak  about  that  church,  judging  from 
Its  Pensational  pulpit  announcements."  lie  united  with  anotlxT 
cluireh.  One  risk  is  that,  when  the  great  thomes  of  sin  and  salva- 
tion arc  to  bo  treated,  to  announce  them  vrould  discourage  at- 
tendance. 

Ihere  must  be  vari(ty  to  avoid  monotony  and  mannerism. 
These  clocks  that  striho  once  cverv  lialf  liour  become  very  unsatis- 


3S2  MclJiodisl  Tlevicw  []\[ay 

factory  as  guides  tlirongb  the  night,  for  it  is  the  same  thing  re- 
poated  too  often.  George  jMael  )onaid's  "Old  Hogers"  was  a  sage 
critic  iinwiuiiigly.  JIc-  iiieot.-;  the  young  vicar  ou  the  bridge  and, 
as  a  sensibh^  man,  nitroduc(s  himself: 

"I  bog:  your  pardon,  be  you  the  now  vicar?" 
"I  am.     Do  you  want  to  see  me?" 

"I  wanted  to  see  your  face.  That's  all,  if  you'll  not  take  it  amiss." 
"You  will  f.ec  my  face  in  church  next  Sunday,  if  you  happen  to  be  there." 
'•Yes,  sir;  but  you  eqq,  sir,  on  the  bridge  here  the  parson  is  tlie  parson, 
like,  and  I  am  old  Rogers,  and  I  looks  into  his  face  and  he  looks  into  riiine, 
and  I  says  to  myself,  'This  is  my  parson.'  But  o'  Sunday.s  he  is  nobody's 
parson.  He's  got  his  work  to  do,  and  it  raun  be  done,  and  there's  an  end 
on't.  Did  you  know  the  parson  that's  gone,  sir?  O,  sir,  he  were  a  good 
parson.  Many's  the  time  he  come  and  sit  at  ray  son's  bedside,  him  that's 
dead  and  gone,  for  a  long  hour — on  a  Saturday  night,  too — and  then  when 
I  see  him  up  in  the  desk  tiie  next  morning  I'd  say  to  myself:  'Old  Rogers, 
that's  the  same  man  as  sat  by  your  son's  bedside.  Think  of  that.  Old 
Rogers.'  But,  somehow,  I  never  did  feel  right  sure  o'  that  same.  He  didn't 
seem  to  have  the  same  cut,  somehow,  and  he  didn't  talk  a  bit  the  same, 
and  when  he  spoke  to  me  after  sermon  in  the  church  yard  I  was  always 
a  mind  to  go  into  the  church  again  to  look  up  to  the  pulpit  to  see  if  he 
were  really  out  of  it;  for  thi^:  w;us  not  the  same  man,  you  see." 

We  attach  the  more  importaiiee  to  these  helps  and  hindrances 
because  of  the  grandeur  of  the  calling  and  the  men  who  have 
responded  to  it.  An  intelligent  poorly  informed  man  has  lately 
published  derogatory  statements  as  to  the  intellectual  development 
and  scholarly  attainments  of  the  average  Christian  minister.  On 
good  authority  I  mahe  the  statement  that,  with  over  one  hundred 
thousand  tilling  the  minI.^;(erial  ranks  in  our  country,  there  are 
more  college  diplomas  per  eajiila  tlnm  are  in  the  possession  of  any 
other  learned  profession.  And  in  the  nineteen  thousand  ^kFethodist 
ministers'  pockets  you  will  find  no  whisky  ilasks  and,  possibly,  but 
a  hatful  of  tobacco  boxes.  'J'est  any  other  line  of  men  that  way! 
Of  late  there  has  been  a  f ailing  ofl'  in  the  pulpit  supply,  possibly 
by  reason  of  an  increasing  number  of  useful  and  more  remunera- 
tive callings  being  opened.  Jn  twelve  years  theological  students 
have  fallen  oif  nearly  twinly  ])er  ceiit.  Tlay  are  oifercd  })Oor  pay. 
Even  Peter  said,  ''We  have  forsaken  all  and  followed  thee;  what 
.'diall  we  have  (herefure  C'  Tljore  is  a  mystery  about  llie  fact  that 
some  preachers  are  conspieuou-,  ])opular,  and  .sought  after,  while 


JO.IO]  Fulpif  Mannerisms  and  Manners  OS-'' 

tlicir  equals,  and  even  tlicir  STi]>frior.s,  remain  olj-~cure.  But  this 
niVc-torj  is  as  large  as  human  life  and  reaches  into  the  universe. 
Why  is  the  proportion  of  conspicuous  merchants,  physicians,  and 
hnvyers  so  small  ?  Scarcely  live  in  a  hundred.  !May  it  not  he  that 
hetter  supplies  are  needed  for  the  downtown  church  and  the  llard- 
serahhle  Circuit?  Even  the  ]\[aster  was  despised  and  rejected, 
and  had  not  where  to  la}^  his  head.  The  estate  he  left  was  his 
garments,  possihly  worth  five  dollars.  This  subject  derives  its  im- 
portance from  the  importance  of  the  calling.  John  Quincy  Ada'.ns 
f^aid,  ''The  pulpit  is  the  throne  of  modern  eloquence."  The  man 
so  much  quoted  now  in  all  lands,  even  though  not  the  safest  of 
religious  leaders,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  said  of  the  ministry: 
''It  is  the  first  oftics  in  the  world,  a  holy  ofiict^,  coeval  with  the 
world.  Christianity  has  given  us  two  inestimable  advantages: 
the  Sabbath,  the  jubilee  of  the  whole  world,  and  the  institution  of 
preaching."    In  an  earlier  time  Goldsmith  wrote: 

With  meek  and  unaffected  grace 

His  looks  adorned  the  venerable  place. 

Truth  from  his  lips  prevailed  with  douMe  sway. 

And  fools  who  came  to  mock  remained  to  pray. 

And  this  theme  has- its  place  in  the  Scriptures.  Piloses  souglit  to 
excuse  himself  from  a  mission  to  Egypt  by  saying  to  Jehovah, 
*'I  am  of  slow  speech  and  slow  tongue."  To  remedy  that  Aaron 
was  appointed.  Jereiniah  said,  ''T  know  not  how  to  speah."  Jcsu3 
called  James  and  John  "Sons  of  Thunder."  If  they  spoke  as  they 
wrote  the  title  described  their  preaching.  Paul  was  discounted  as 
''weak"  in  bodily  presence  and  in  s])eech  ''contemptible."  IIo 
seems  not  to  have  l-een  so  before  the  learning  of  Athens,  or 
Agrippa,  or  Ca-sar.  We  know  he  beckoned  ^\'ith  his  hand  to  com- 
mand silence,  though  tliat  hai^l  wore  a  manacle.  In  his  defense 
before  Ciosar  ''no  man  stood  by'' — yes,  "the  Lord" — and  instead 
of  self-defense  he  preached  the  guspel  in  hearing  of  the  lion's 
roar.  Apollos  was  an  "eloquent  man,"  which  may  be  translated 
"learned."  lie  fascinated  the  Corinthians  so  as  to  vie  with  Peter 
and  Paul  among  those  ancient  lovers  of  art.  The  foiled  otllcers 
reported  back  to  the  Snuhcdrin  concerning  Jesus,  "Xever  num 
spake  like  tliis  man."     "Jlc  spake  as  one  having  autliorily."     To 


3Si-  Methodist  llciievj  [May 

[Magdalene  lie  only  needed  lo  sa}'  'OTary/'  but  it  scaltercd  night, 
from  her  aiuJ  the  world,  ijito  light  eternal.  ]Iis  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  his  parables  imperishable,  his  divine  prayers,  his  wrathful 
"Woe!  Woe!  Woe!"  to  hypoeripy,  his  description  of  the  judg- 
ment, ending  in  heaven  and  hell,  all  in  truth  and  manner  rise 
above  all  that  was  ever  spolcen.     He  was  and  is  "the  Word." 

He  said,  "Go  preach."  Look  along  the  line.  Whnt  a  colon- 
nade thi'ough  the  field  of  history  preachei's  furnish ! — Elijah,  Peter, 
Paul,  Chi-ysostom — not  only  goldcu-mout bed  but  sworded  and  mar- 
tyred and  fearless  as  an  angel;  Savonarola,  sejiding  auditors  home 
bewailing  their  sins  through  Florence;  Knox,  logical  at  tbe  begin- 
ning, then  so  im])a?sioned  as  to  '"beat  the  ])ulpit  into  blads,  and 
flie  oot  o'  it."  He  set  thn.'C  thousand  hardy  Scots  to  weeping. 
John  Wesley,  too  great  every  way  to  be  yet  fully  written  up; 
Whitefield,  able  to  draw  tears  by  the  way  he  could  pronounce 
"MesoiX'tamia"  ;  JonatluTu  Edwards,  whose  "Sinners  in  tlie  Hands 
of  an  Angry  God"  gave  alarm  in  time  to  frighten  sinners  and  save 
our  nation.  [May  tlic  ])o\vei'  not  desert  us  an.d  settle  over  Korea 
to  stay!  Dr.  Thomas  H.  Stockton,  from  whose  lii)s  the  Lord's 
Prayer  or  the  benediction  v-as  an  apocalypse.  He  was  chaplain 
to  Congress  three  time*  in  succession.  In  preaching  before  sena- 
toi's  and  representatives  ineu  were  startled,  and  Su]u-eme  Court 
judges  looked  as  if  arraigned  l>efore  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth. 
I  seem  yet  to  see  him — seated  as  an  invalid,  his  jJiysician  at 
hand,  lecturing  before  the  nniversiiy,  thin,  white,  feai-less,  with 
introspective  look — say,  '*!  a  in  aii  immortal  spirit." 

But  that  splendid  list  is  too  numerous  and  long  to  mention. 
It  is  increasing  in  numbers  and  not  losing  in  courage  or  talent. 
It  were  easy  to  name  llv-m  by  the  hujidred  now  living.  The 
Christian  ministry  for  two  thousand  years,  and  now  nK^r<.■'  than 
ever,  refreshes  the  v.orld,  because  supplied  from  the  Vwiter  of  life 
from  beneatli  the  ihi-one  of  God. 


c/S  c<..c^  t^  ^, 


-«--.  (r~tj~f^ 


IDIC]  The  Ajiosllc  of  the  Superman 


AuT.  I\\— THE  APOSTLE  OF  THE  SUPEmLVX 

Tjie  new  gtiieratiou  tliat  arose  i]i  GcrDianv  after  tlic  groat 
struggle  for  luiiional  unity  Las  i)rodiicc(l  in  Fricdrich  XietzscLe 
the  most  radical  thinker  of  modern  times,  llis  ^vords  have  come 
^vi{h  compelling  power  to  the  men  of  a  nevv'  age,  and  the  student 
of  the  tbought  of  these  Letter  days  encounters  his  influence  on  every 
hand.  The  spell  cast  by  this  brilliant  genius  of  the  nineteenth 
century  was  not  merely  the  magic  of  his  words,  but  the  boldness 
of  his  arguments  in  their  ajjj^eal  to  the  skeptical  mind. 

The  reader  looks  in  vain  for  a  systematized  philo.-,(.p]iy  in 
Kietzsehe,  and  with  difrJculty  disentangles  fi-om  its  mythological 
garb  the  thought  that  forms  his  doctrine.  An  atlem})t  to  set  fortli 
his  principal  thought,  with  its  antecedents  and  its  raison  d'ctv, 
presupposes  a  familiarity  with  the  philosophy  of  Schopenhauer, 
for  during  his  student  days  in  Leipsic,  in  1S65,  Xietzschc  was 
captivated  by  the  latter's  work,  Die  ^Vdl  ah  ^yiUe  iind  VorsieUvng, 
and  its  pessimism  reechoed  in  his  heart.  This  ne\'.'  philosophy 
showed  him  that  this  life  was  all  most  miserable  and  that  its 
fleeting  joys  left  a  sting  of  pain,  so  that  nonexistence  seemed  pref- 
erable to  existence  in  so  unhappy  a  world.  Underlying  all  liff, 
Schopenhauer  had  shown,  was  a  blind,  irrepressible  desire  w]:i(--h 
he  named  'Svil],"  and  this  was  without  any  definite  aim.  If,  thrr.- 
fure,  man  would  escape  its  constant  pressure,  nothing  but  its  denial 
could  effect  it.  The  fact  that  no  lasting  pleasure  could  be  derived- 
from  things  temporal  brought  him  to  the  conclusion  that  this  world 
must  be  a  delusion,  and  that  the  gratification  of  our  desires  must 
lie  beyond  the  things  seen.  It  is  tliercfore  only  poor  comfort  to 
the  gloomy  heart  v.hen  he  declares  that  a  temporary  pleasure  c<»uld 
I'C  derived  from  the  contemjilation  of  the  beautiful,  v^-hile  a  lasting 
one  could  bo  derived  only  from  the  denial  of  the  will  and  asceti- 
cism. For  a  time  these  thoughts  controlled  young  Xietzsche,  but 
in  his  doctrine  of  the  superman  he  turned  this  denial  of  the  will 
unto  life  into  an  afllrnnation  of  the  will  unto  life,  llcrc  it  is  nec- 
essary to  con.-ider  some  of  the  other  antecedents. 

One  mav  call  the  vears  between  1SG5  and  1S7S  the  formative 


3SG  Mclhodld  J.lcview  [^fay 

period  in  his  life  uiiJ  tbc  siibsoqucut  years  the  period  of  inde- 
pendence. At  the  beginning  of  his  early  period  ho  had  already 
launched  out  on  the  sea  of  doulA,  having  renounced  the  religion 
of  his  father  and  graiidfatljer,  both  of  v;honi  had  been  clergymen. 
From  deep  piety  he  had  ])]unged  into  skepticism,  and  the  change 
seems  the  more  remarkable  and  deplorable  in  the  light  of  his  fervor 
that — only  a  few  years  before — had  caused  him  to  refer  to  religion 
as  the  corner  stone  of  all  knowledge  (IS 50).  ITis  insatiable  thirst 
for  knowledge  had  led  him  into  the  maze  of  doubt  from  which  he 
reappeared  as  an  agnostic  and  mIsantliro])e.  lie  believed  science 
and  religion  to  be  aiilagonistic,  and  decided  in  favor  of  the  former. 
As  a  "searcher  after  the  truth"  he  felt  that  he  had  entered  the  via 
dolorosa  which  sLou]<l  eventually  lead  to  his  martyrdom.  He 
waged  war  agairjst  all  that  the  human  race  holds  dear,  especially 
against  religion  of  every  kind,  and  in  his  juror  rcUgiosus  he 
finally  exclaimed:  '"Dead  arc  all  the  gods!  Xow  I  intend  that 
the  superman  shall  live!"  This  perversion  seems  strange  also  in 
the  light  of  his  genial,  artistic  temperament,  but  its  explanation 
lies  in  the  fact  that  lie  was  an  aristocrat  of  the  most  sanguine 
type.  It  explains  to  us  his  inbred  hatred  against  all  that  is  com- 
mon, ordinary,  low,  and  vnlgar,  his  scorn  for  falsehood,  shams, 
and  deception,  also  his  vigorous  attacks  on  systems  vrliose  foun- 
datiojis  he  bidieved  to  have  been  reared  on  deceptions  and  lies. 
As  such  he  loved  the  elegance,  reiinenient,  and  grace  which  the 
forms  of  Grecian  art,  the  spirit  of  the  Kenaissance  in  Italy,  the 
culture  of  France  durin.g  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries 
constantly  revealed  to  him.  And  this  enthusiasm  for  aristocratic 
ideal.-:  v.as  eclii)sed  only  by  tb.e  coiitempt  in  which  he  held  all  thoio 
who  v.YTc  not  of  this  class.  The  brutality  of  an  aristocrat  shines 
out  of  his  scorn  for  Socrates,  the  contempt  for  Jesus  of  Xazareth 
and  his  fishermen  disciples,  and  out  of  his  remark  concerning 
Martin  Luther,  v>lien  he  called  him  "the  most  eloquent  and  the 
most  immodest  of  all  peasants  that  Germany  ever  had."  It  is 
this  aristocratic  radicalism  that  makes  him  hate  every  attempt 
on  the  part  of  the  masses  to  opjiose  the  privileged  clas.vcs,  and  that 
is  irritated  by  every  sociali.-tie,  anarchistic,  populistic,  or  fem- 
inistic ])ri)paganda  v.hieh  ;ums  at  the  unseating  of  his  oligarchy. 


1!)10]  The  Aposilc  of  (lie  Supcrmati  HST 

The  same  feeling  guided  him  in  llic  selection  of  his  books.  TJicre. 
was,  first  of  all,  Goethe's  Convei-satioiis  with  Echcnnanii,  wliicli 
he  referred  to  as  one  of  the  few  immortal  works.  Next  came 
Emerson's  essays,  a  coja*  of  ^vhich  he  carried  with  him  for  a  long 
lijiie.  Tiien  Shakespeare,  Byron,  Heine.  Already  as  a  student  at 
Pfoita  he  had  selected  Pascal,  ]\lontaigne,  and  the  moralists  as 
[lis  fayorite  Trench  vrriters,  and  later  he  hecame  fascinated  bv  the 
works  of  Stendhal  and  his  great  pupil,  Taine.  Last  of  all  came 
Gol.nneau,  ^yhose  kinship  ho  recognized  from  the  Avork  Essai  sur 
VinvyaHie  des  races  Jiurnai)ics.  Nietzsche  believed  in  being  every- 
thing or  nothing  at  all  {AIIcs  oder  Nichis),  therefore  ht;  threw 
himself  into  his  wwh  y/ilh  a  ^vhole  soul.  His  insaliabh;  thii'st  for 
knoAvlcdgo  "was  aided  by  an  unusual  power  of  penetration.  Xo  less 
a  person  than  the  famous  philologist  llitschl  was  the  first  to  dis- 
cei-n  tins,  and  he  recommended  the  brilliant  young  man  for  the 
IHofes-ui-.-hip  of  the  classics  in  the  University  of  Basle.  Tiie  ap- 
]Kiintment  was  made  licfore  !Nietzsche  had  received  his  doctorate. 
During  his  professional  career  Kietzsche  enjoyed  the  friendship 
of  tlie  celebrated  art  critic,  J.  Burckhardt,  through  whom  his 
fondness  for  Greek  art  and  the  Italian  Renaissance  was  deepened 
co])sideral)ly.  Prodigious  indeed  is  the  work  which  he  performed 
in  his  profession,  considering  the  minuteness  and  care  whieh  he 
bestowed  on  his  lectures.  Imagine  his  plan  of  covering  in  academic 
licturcs  running  through  eight  years  all  the  phases  of  Greek  philol- 
Cigy !  ]jut  such  profound  v.'ork  was  his  joy  and  inspiration,  and  ho 
fold  his  fi'iends  that  he  had  chosen  philology  for  his  occupation 
b(.'cause  it  was  the  "propiT  work  for  aristocrats  and  the  mandarins 
of  intell.'ct."  Ilis  talent  in  music  at  one  time  niadc  him  think 
seriously  of  becoming  a  composer.  But  he  gave  U])  this  plan  al- 
though ho  continued  to  occupy  himself  with  it.  Ilis  ronuinlic 
spirit  leaned  toward  Bichard  Wagner,  having  been  aroused  through 
l!ie  hitter's  Tristan  and  Isolde.  When,  later  on,  he  became  intimate 
with  tliis  cuuiposer  he  begaii  to  extol  him  as  the  high  ])ricst  of  art 
and  the  true  gmiius  of  music.  For  him,  and  in  the  interest  of  the. 
Bayreuth  playhou-e,  Xietzschc  toured  the  country  as  a  lecturer. 
But  his  aristocratic  ideals  received  a  severe  shock  when  lie  saw 
Wagner  currying  puldie  favor  by  turning  to  religious  motifs  in 


r,8S  Mclhodist  Uevicw  V'^^y 

Lis  Parsifal.  Tlie  fricndi^lii})  came  to  a  close,  and  the  object  of 
Xietzi^cbe's  pr^i^e  Lecariie  the  object  of  bis  coudcmuatiou.  It  was, 
however,  quite  impossible  to  forget  the  associations  be  had  enjoyed 
v.'ilb  the  great  musician,  and  lie  spoke  of  thcnn  in  these  signillcant 
Y/ords :  'MlV'r///i/-  irar  cine  KrcuikJtcit"  (''Wagner  was  a  disease"). 
Turjiiii;^;  ]iow  to  Xictzscho's  WeUauscbauung,  it  will  be  better 
uiidevslood  xAk-yi  it  is  borne  in  mind  ihnt  it  is  the  reflection  of  the 
unstable  vie^\■s  of  the  educated  classes  of  Europe  during  tlie  last 
decades  of  the  nirietcenfh  century.  The  channel  into  which  these 
individualistic,  skeptical,  utilitarian,  eudemonistic,  and  evolutional 
currents  of  thought  converge  is  that  strange,  yet  remai'kable,  ]>rose- 
])oem  of  Xietzsclie  entitled  "Thus  spake  Zaralbuslra."  The  Zara- 
thustra  speaking  unto  the  few  is  not  the  ancient  priest  of  the 
A  vesta  religion,  but  the  incorporation  of  the  man  as  J^ietzsche  de- 
sires to  see  him,  and  is  in  many  respects  patterned  after  Xietzsche 
liimself.  Under  the  veil  of  mythology  and  allegory  the  romantic 
mind  of  the  v/ritcr  has  concealed  the  meaning  of  his  thought  be- 
cause of  his  conviction  that  the  full-orbed  truth  of  his  deductions 
would  not  and  could  ]iot  bo  endured  in  bis  generation.  So  it  has 
been  considered  a  book  of  seven  seals,  vrith  its  flouting  ideas,  sen- 
tentious epigTam?,  and  startling  aj^horisms  behind  which  we  cannot 
deny  a  marvelous  poelic  genius.  JMore  argumentative,  however, 
is  his  "Genealogy  of  I\j*)r.ds,"  in  v.hieh  the  negative  side  of  his 
problem  is  very  prominent.  It  begins  -willi  a  peremptory  demand 
for  a  "Transvaluation  of  all  values."  "Xo  people  could  live  that 
did  not,  in  the  first  place,  know  value.  If  it  would  maintain  itself 
it  must  not  value  as  its  neighbor  doth.  .Arncli  that  one  people  has 
called  good  another  lias  called  scorn  and  di-^honor:  tlnis  I  found 
it."  ^  So  he  concludes  that  all  moral  standards  are  wrong  and  that 
they  are  in  need  of  revision,  a  devaluation;  for  the  origin  of  the 
concept  and  judgment  "good"  is  explained  by  him  on  this  v^ise: 
"Unselfish  actions  were  originally  praised  and  denominated  'good' 
by  those  to  whom  they  were  manifested;  i,  c,  to  whom  they  Avere 
useful;  afterward  this  origin  of  praise  was  forgotten,  and  unst-lfish 
actions,  since  they  were  alwavs  accustomed  to  be  praised  as  good, 
were,  as  a  malier  of  course,  also  fi-lt  as  such — as  if,  in  themselves, 

'Works,  vol.  vlii.  11.7(5. 


lUlOJ  The  Apostle  of  the  Siipcrmaii  389 

tlicY  Were  sojiirtliiiig  goot]."  The  coinpletc  uplicrival  that  would 
result  fi'oni  such  a  "devaluatiou"  i^;  the  very  thing  he  postulates 
for  the  inauguration  of  the  new  regime,  when  he  says  that  a  chango 
of  values  means  a  cluuige  of  creators  of  values.  In  this  skeptic 
temper  he  deiiies  the  existence  of  the  absolute,  of  the  thing  j)er  se. 
The}'  all  arc  creations  of  man's  fancy;  ''God,  to  him,  is  a  sujv 
position,  a  thought  v>-hich  bendeth  all  ^vhich  is  straight  and  turne;,h 
around  whatever  standeth  still."  And  with  a  sneer  more  skeptical 
than  that  of  Pilate  he  asks,  ''What  is  truth?"  and  thereby  begins 
his  assault  against  the  moral  criteria  that  have  hither  to  passed 
unchallenged.  As  violent  as  the  oriental  sect  of  the  Assassins,  ho 
coiicurs  in  their  device:  "Xothing  is  true;  everything  is  al](;v.'able." 
With  Schopenhauer  he  traces  the  human  instincts  and  impulses 
to  their  fouutainhead.  Schopenhauer  had  given  them  the  col- 
loetive  name  ''will";  Xietzschc  similarly  sees  in  the  concentration 
of  thf'  Innuan  impulses  a  will,  a  desire  unto  power.  This  desire 
unto  ]^ov;er,  he  tells  us,  is  the  underlying  principle  in  every  organ- 
isui,  be  it  plant,  animal,  or  man.  In  the  maimer  in  which  it  asserts 
itself  it  t;ikes  up  the  struggle  for  existence — ending,  of  course,  in 
the  survival  of  the  fittest.  It  has  been  noted  that  Schopenhauer 
taught  a  temporary  esca]je  from  earth's  misery  by  the  contemi)la- 
tion  of  the  beautiful.  Xietzsche,  too,  tells  us  that  art  and  morals 
are  man's  invention  for  the  gratification  of  the  cTsthetic  and  moral 
instincts;  but  he  asserts  that  through  misconception  man  gi-adually 
l)egan  to  idolize  the  things  created  at  the  exiicnse  of  the  instincts 
or  impulses,  and  to  this  he  ascribes  the  perversion  of  criteria  espe- 
cially in  the  realm  of  morals.  The  fact  that  the  instincts  may  be 
eitli;  r  diseased  or  sound  offers  him  opportunity  to  show  tliat  out 
of  such  condilions  have  ariseii  the  robust  and  vigorous  and  the 
sickly,  decadent  types  of  man.  To  the  former  he  ascribes  the 
view  of  the  optimist,  to  the  latter  that  of  the  pessimist.  Though  at 
llrsl  he  leaned  toward  Schopenhauer's  view  of  the  wretchedness  of 
this  ]i!\.,  lie  turned  from  it.  We  see  this  in  his  argument  that  en- 
deavors to  shov/  thai  it  is  impossible  for  man  to  call  life  good  or 
evil  cii-ce  it  cam)ot  l^e  viewed  in' all  its  relations;  besides,  the 
li\in(r  arc  incomjielent  to  ju.dge  because  of  their  interest  in  the 
struggle,  and  the  dead — they  s])eak  iiol !   Xow,  concludes  Xietzsche, 


31)0  Mdhodid  Bcview  [May 

inasmneb  fis  the  iiKlividual  is  ]iol  in  a  position  to  say  wliclbcr  lifo 
is  Avorth  liviiig  it  is  incnrnbent  upon  Liin  lo  live  exuberantly, 
"lavislilv,"  ^'tvopicalJy,"  inlcn^ively,  for  the  realization  of  tbc 
ideals  of  tbe  bLaiUiful.  lo  do  this  one  must  refuse  to  be 
sbacblcd  bj  rules  and  conventions  of  society  Avbich  suppress  the 
natural  impulses,  aud  Avlucb  stamp  as  bad  those  instincts  \\hich 
contribute  to  juan's  gi-eater  power  and  vigor,  namely,  cunning, 
cruelty,  combativeness,  etc.  In  short,  this  v/ill  unto  power  must 
be  given  free  course;  bis  development  must  be  untrammeled  bv 
morals,  ethics,  science,  or  religion. 

His  study  of  morals  has  led  him  to  accept  two  elementary 
typos  of  morals — ^thosc  of  the  common  herd  and  those  of  the  aristo- 
crats. The  one  he  named  ^'Sldavemnoral,''  thC  other  "Ilcrren- 
moral,"  and  he  asserts  that  all  civilizations  have  attempted  a 
harmonization  of  the  t^vo,  IMoral  values,  wherever  they  exist, 
are  those  of  the  ruling  class;  this  may  have  at  one  time  been  Ihe 
ruled  class,  where  the  luorals  of  the  herd  obtained.  Witness  such 
civilizations  as  came  up  through  conquest — Eome,  the  Franhish 
empire,  the  Moors.  "J'hese  races  were  the  creators  of  moral  values. 
"Whatever  Avas  agreeable  to  them  became  the  standard  of  life  and 
conduct.  It  Mas  nothing  else  but  the  jji-inciple.  Might  makes  right. 
The  race  that  he  would  sec  spring  up  conquers  these  underlings  and 
this  common  herd;  it  should  be  superior  in  body  and  intellect, 
stalwart,  intrepid,  fierce  foes^  men  who  hate  the  commonplace  and 
despise  deception  and  lies.  Their  heroic  nature  makes  them  free 
from  sympathy;  to  desire  it  would  be  contemptible,  to  offer  it 
would  be  an  insult.  We  ask  what  moral  code  would  prevail  among 
such  a  class  of  men  ?  Xietzsche  answers,  only  that  which  prudence 
and  foresight  dictate.  Eudemonistic,  you  see.  They  are  law 
unto  ihemselves.  Education,  luarriage,  and  tlie  jiropagation  of 
their  kind  come  under  the  jealous  care  which  seeks  the  perpetua- 
tion of  the  strong  type.  'Ilu'ir  god  is  their- desire  wnto  power,  for 
uuto  it  they  ascribe  their  place  and  position,  and  the  offering  they 
bring  is  their  joyous  life,  their  optimism!  Quite  different  from 
these,  says  Xietzsche,  are  the  morals  of  the  common  licrd.  Pes- 
siujisin  is  the  keynote  of  their  lives,  and  tlieir  liatred  is  (ven 
toward  their  c»ujquerors.     To  them  these  mighty  ones  liave  ever 


lino]  The  Aposllc  of  Ihc  Superman  301 

l)ccn  tlic  halcful  ones,  tlic  Larl)ariaiis,  tlic  vandals.  Thus  Xictzsrlie 
Juis  tried  to  show  how  one  clas-.  of  men  lias  condemned  as  bad  Avhat 
the  olher  has  extolled  as  good,  and  thereby  believes  he  proves  that 
the  moral  standards  have  always  been  arbitrary.  By  this  sweepin*^- 
deductio)!  he  wonld  condemn  Christian  morals  as  well.  They,  to 
him,  ha-se  sprnjig  from  the  viilic.u  of  the  enslaved  Je^vs.  "It  was 
the  .lews  who,  with  most  f]-in]itfully  consistent  logic,  dared  to 
subvert  the  aristocratic  equation  of  values."  And  ho  fumes  over 
the  fact  that  their  "unparalleled,  popular  ingenuity  of  morals" 
has  subverted  the  strong  and  noble  race  of  the  Eomans.  Tlic 
essence  of  all  the  highest  values,  he  tells  us,  is  to-day  acknowledged 
i]i  the  persons  of  three  Jews  and  one  Jewess  (Jesus  of  ^'azarcth, 
Peter  the  fisherman,  Paul  the  tentmaker,  and  Mary  the  mother  of 
Jrsus).  His  sharpest  shafts  are  aimed  against  the  pri(!sthood, 
"The  greatest  haters  in  all  history  Avere  the  priests,  and  they  wei-e 
at  all  times  the  haters  with  most  esprit."  He  characterizes  their 
instinct  to  rule  as  a  means  to  gain  the  confidence  of  the  masses  in 
ordci-  to  fust  become  their  guardians  and  defenders,  but  later  their 
tyrants.  While  he  does  not  deny  their  disciplinary  power  in  con- 
trolling the  masses,  still  he  sees  in  their  decei^tions  and  delusions 
a  great  obstacle  to  -the  development  of  the  race  he  desires.  Thank 
God  for  that !  Por  to  them  he  attributes  the  origin  of  the  belief  in 
a  life  to  come.  The  haven  of  the  pessimist,  he  tells  us,  is  death ; 
there  all  his  woes  are  ended.  Yet  the  panacea  fur  his  ills  does  net 
a})pear  inviting  to  him;  in  fact,  he  shrinks  from  stepping  into 
the  gi-avc.  Nietzsche  thinks  he  has  found  a  solution  to  inakc  the 
]-'roc(-ss  less  repulsive,  and  postulates  that  the  priest  came  in  and 
held  out  to  the  fearing  and  quaking  mortal  the  hope  of  a  life 
betlt'r  than  this.  .Ue  adduces  as  a  proof  for  his  argument  the  Jews, 
who,  like  slaves,  were  subject  to  the  aristocratic  liomans,  and 
v.hosc  sense  of  independence  coupled  wnth  their  weakness  and  ina- 
bility to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  bondage  had  caused  the  beatification 
of  the  0])pressed  and  the  hope  in  a  compensatory  future  with  liappi- 
ness  for  the  o]i]>re.'^;rd  and  damnation  for  the  oppressor! 

Just  how  h(>  would  readjust  tlfse  values  would  be  interesting 
to  ascertain,  for  it  cannot  be  su]->]vis(>d  that  so  complete  a  ehange 
sliall  come  without  prejjaration.     Purthermore,  he  denies  the  free- 


393  McOiodlst  Jlevlcw  []\Liy 

dom  of  the  will  and  the  existence  of  the  soul  separate  from  the 
body.  These  are  no  new  problems,  to  be  sure,  yet  it  is  intci'esting 
1o  learn  lli.'it  he  judges  the  will  oiialitntively,  saying  there  is  only 
a  strong  or  a  vreak  will,  and  this  ^vill  is  insejjarable  from  its  action 
just  as  the  property  of  flashing  is  insepoi-able  from  lightning. 
AVhat  has  given  rise  to  the  illusion  of  the  fi'cedom  of  the  will,  he 
says,  is  tlie  separation  of  the  will  from  its  action.  So  it  came  to 
pass,  on  the  supposition  that  the  use  to  which  the  will  is  directed 
marks  the  power  of  the  individual  rather  than  the  sum  total  of 
this  power,  that  the  equality  of  man  has  been  asserted  and  the 
aristocratic  ideal  became  detVated.  Consequently,  the  weak  took 
courage,  aspired  to  higher  poM'cr;  but,  Avhile  they  condemned  as 
bad  or  evil  the  desire  unto  power  of  the  aristocrats,  they  labeled  as 
legitimate  and  permissible  tlie  very  desire  they  themselves  had 
assumed.  Kovr,  \\iv  positive  side  of  the  argument  touches  on  the 
superman.  In  hnrmouy  ^viih  t)ie  princi[)](>  of  evolution,  Xiet/.sche 
sees  in  man  the-  culmination  of  the  development  from  the  worm 
to  the  ape,  thenee  to  man.  lint  he  says  also  that  man  has  started 
oji  a  doNMnvard  road,  and  he  points  to  state,  religion,  and  art  to 
prove  Ids  contention.  All  thrro  arc  in  a  decadent  form;  the  first 
in  its  em])hri?is  of  the  deuioeratic  ideal,  the  second  by  its  worship 
of  illusions  such  as  God,  etoriud  life,  etc,  and  the  latter — especially 
in  the  case  of  his  former  idol,  ^Vaguer — by  its  vulgarization! 
Still  this  dL'cadence  does  not  lead  him  to  despair;  in  fact,  he 
likens  it  unto  an  autumn  that  precede^-a  springtime  of  regenera- 
tion. Decadent  nnan  is  to  be  f<.>l lowed  by  superman.  This  type  of 
man,  he  avers,  can  be  attained  only  when  the  criteida  of  to-day — 
the  democratic  and  Christian — are  renounced  and  the  aristocratic, 
such  as  prevailed  at  the  tiujc  of  the  Augustan  age  in  Rome,  are 
recogniz:ed. 

Xow,  this  term  "superman"  is  not  original  with  iN^ietzsche. 
It  had  been  used  by  Goclh'^,  ^\ho  nam.'d  his  Faust  a  superman. 
Likewise  Peuerbach,  Iltiiie,  Gutzkow,  and  Eduard  vou  Hart- 
mann  had  advanced  similar  Ideas,  that  might  best  be  formulated  in 
the  v;ords  of  I'euerbach,  who  said,  "]\lan  alone  is,  and  must  be,  our 
god.''  It  is  the  same  idea  ex]ire?sed  by  James  Cotton  l^lorrisou 
in  his  Service  of  !Mau.     It  ^'oes  luuid  in  hand  uilh  the  thought  of 


103  0]  'ilie  AposUe  of  ihc  Supcnnan  803 

the  perfection  of  tbo  liiiniaii  race  by  arlificial  .selection,  one  of  the 
advocates  of  v.-Lieli  \vas  l-'rc'l  riek  the  Great,  and  later,  the  ])Oct 
Jordnn.  Schojjeiduuier  had  advocated  asceticism,  and  the  denial 
of  tlie  will,  and  his  pessimism  would  eventually  lead  to  self-destruc- 
tion, Xielzsche,  like  him,  also  advocated  that  the  weak  and  pessi- 
mistic men  should  end  this  lift':  "Life  is  but  suffering — others  say, 
and  they  do  not  lie.  Well,  then,  see  to  it  that  you  die!  Sec  to  it 
that  life  which  is  but  suffering  come  to  an  end.  And  let  this  bo 
the  teaching  of  your  virtue:  Thou  shalt  kill  thyself,  tJiou  shalt  steal 
thyself  away."  How  does  the  superman  differ  from  the  common 
mortal?  He  is  ''free  from  the  hap])iness  of  slaves;  saved  from 
gods  and  adorations,  fearless  and  fear-inspiring:  great  and  lo})ely.'' 
He  spur]is  the  jnoral  code  of  the  present,  for  he  is  a  law  unto  him- 
self; he  despises  the  democratic  ideals:  ''cgalilc,  liberie,  fra- 
tcrniic." .  Xietzsclie,  you  see,  emphasizes  the  inequality  of  nmu- 
kind  just  as  had  II\ixley  and  CJolnueau.  Of  course  he  is  as  un- 
political as  can  be  expected.  "The  state  is  called  the  coldest  of 
cold  monsters.  And  coldly  it  lieth,  and  this  lie  creepeth  out  of 
its  mouth:  'T,  the  state,  am  the  people.'  Tt  is  a  lie!  Creators 
they  were  who  created  the  peoples  and  hung  one  belief  and  one 
love  over  them."  These  lords  are  to  be  the  lawmakers.  "Therefore, 
0  my  brethren,  a  new  nobility  is  requisite  which  is  opposed  unto 
all  mob  and  all  tiiar  is  tyraimic  and  writeth  on  new  tables  the  word 
'noble,'  Because  these  men  are  egoistic  they  arc  anti-ideal Islic. 
They  are  come  to  bring  war  and  not  peace,  and  in  thi;ir  victory 
tluy  advance  civilization.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  woi-k,  but  to  tight . 
Tft  y<.uir  work  be  a  tight  and  your  peace  a  victory." 

For  ibis  superman  ideal  he  postulates  the  palingenesis  of 
things.  This  i.loa  did  not  come  to  him  until  1S31,  wh-'U  he  was 
in  ]\Iaria  Sils  in  the  Engadinr"  seeking  to  recover  his  liealfh. 
It  almost  overwhelmed  him.  ]lis  starting  poiiit  was  the  th'-ory 
uf  the  conservation  of  energy.  His  manner  of  reasoning  was  on 
this  vi.^e:  Energy  is  not  infiiiife,  but  limited;  if  there  were  any 
qiiantitiiiive  change,  it  would  h.ave  resnlted  in  the  diminution  of 
the  world  or  iis  growth  into  infinite  proj)ortioiis.  If  v.e  assume 
th;it  this  energy  in  emlhss  yeais  ]U-oduces  a  continuous  line  of 
combiiialions,  then  the  limited  quantity  of  energy  must  of  neces- 


394  Mcihodlst  Review  [May 

sity  rcprodiico  n,  series  of  conil>iiialioiis  lliat  exifted  at  one  time  or 
olher.  Ke  luul  iliis  in  i-tiind  wLien  he  paid,  "Thou  tcacliest  that 
there  is  a  great  year  of  iK-comiug,  a  ]iioiistrous  great  year.  It  must, 
like  an  liourglaKS,  ever  liirii  upside  do^v]l  again  in  order  to  run 
down  and  out.  ...  I  eonio  cteriudly  Lack  unto  this  one  and  tlio 
same  life  in  oi-der  to  leach  the  etci-ual  recurrence  of  things."  lie 
had  planned  to  spend  te]i  years  in  further  study  of  the  natural 
sciences  in  Vienna  and  Paris  in  order  to  establish  a  scientific 
basis  for  his  idea  of  the  palingenesis,  but  he  found  that  it  could 
not  be  supported  ]>y  the  atomistic  theory,  and  he  therefore  gave  up 
his  plan;  neverthclc.-s,  the  palingenesis  remained  the  central 
thought  of  his  later  years.  And  this  is  the  cijd  of  our  discussion. 
The  boldness  of  his  attad;  and  the  logic  of  his  argument  have  been 
as  shocking  as  they  have  been  dc.4ructive.  Tlie  noA'clty  of  his 
thought,  ■\-\-hicli  focuses  the  current  ^'ie^vs  from  many  quarters,  has 
made  him  attractive  to  many,  and  therefore  ve]-y  dangerous.  Be- 
tween the  camp  of  his  followers  and  that  of  his  bitter  opponents 
stands  the  ]>ublic,  undecided  and  jX'rplcxed.  Still  the  close  reader 
will  not  be  misled  by  his  arguments,  howevca'  beguiling;  besides, 
there  are  too  many  paradoxes  requiring  a  satisfactory  explana- 
tion. The  thinker  Xietzsche  was,  after  all,  too  much  of  a  dilettante 
in  the  natural  sciences  and  histo]'y  to  bring  conviction  to  the  men 
of  science;  and  one  niusl  not  forget  his  utterance  with  regard  to 
his  writings:  that  he  came  not  to  give  men  a  creed,  but  merely 
desired  to  influence  the  souls  of  tho.-e  "'who  know." 


1910]  An  Opiimistlc  Tkv:  of  Life  i)i  ihc  Churclics  39o 


^i,.p.  v.— AX  0PTI■:^[1STIC  VIEW  OF  LIFE  IX  THE 

ciirucniES 

The  battle  Let^u-ccn  the  i>csslmist  and  tlie  optin:!i?t  is  always 
on.  !Most.  of  \is  have  elements  of  both,  and  find  ourselves  inclined 
to  svrav  now  this  way  and  now  that  as  we  arc  affected  by  outward 
circumstances  or  by  physical  or  mental  states.  The  progress  of  the 
world  furnishes  materials  and  occasions  for  both.  It  is  not  an 
iinbrohen,  universal  upward  sweep.  Sometimes  a  repulse  liere  or 
there  breaks  the  line  of  advance  and  sometimes  the  whole  ^\•orld 
Eccms  to  be  slipping  back.  We  are  alvrajs  justified  in  asking  about 
the  present  trend,  and  trying  to  find  reasons  in  things  as  they  are 
to  justify  our  faith  in  the  better  things  yet  to  be.  Such  a  qtiust  in 
the  present  life  of  the  churches  of  this  country  yields  results  highly 
favorable  to  the  optimistic  vie^w.  Three  things  I  mention  as  deter- 
mining factors  in  church  life:  its  trend  of  doctrine,  its  work  of 
extension,  and  its  output  of  character.  If  in  these  particulars  we 
lijid  conditions  good,  we  )ieed  not  very  seriously  mind  incidental 
bhortcomiugs,  and  sporadic  indicatior.s  of  prosperity  will  afford 
us  little  real  consolation  if  in  these  we  are  failing. 

First,  then,  as  to  trend  of  doctrine.  In  the  sense  of  living 
teaching  doctrine  has  always  a  trend  and  is  going  somewhither. 
Tlieology  is  in  constant  process  of  being  thought  over.  Xo  tlie- 
ology  is  ^  ilal  to  a  man  until,  with  or  without  aid,  he  has  tliought  it 
out  for  himself.  Besides,  new  forms  and  modes  of  thought  give 
rise  to  nev,-  questions  in  religion,  and  the  old  answers  will  not  fit, 
riol  necessarily  because  they  arc  nntrue  but  because  they  vrerc 
made  for  other  questions,  some  of  which  are  now  obsolete.  Souio 
men  are  alvrays  trying  the  old  answers  on  the  new  questions — an 
ill-starred  undertaking  which  is  foredoomed  to  fail,  and  sets  other 
some  to  thinking  illogically  that  the  answers  are  discredited  and 
that  the  whole  system  of  faith  is  top]iling.  The  first  effect  of  new 
questions  is  unsettling,  and  uncertainty  as  to  the  faith  produce^ 
weakness  and  de}>ression  of  sinritual  life;  but  afterward,  if  fol- 
lowed to  the  erid,  ''It  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness unto  them  that  are  exercised  there])y."     In  comparatively 


30 G  Methodist  l^evicw  [^^<^J 

rc'cciit  times  tliroc  iiilluences  bave  combined  to  disturb  religious 
tbiiikiiig:  tbe  gxiicral  at-ccjjlancc  of  tlio  scientific  doctrine  of  evolu- 
tion, tbe  employment  of  new  and  more  exact  canons  of  biblical 
criticism,  aiid  tbe  applicaiion  of  advanced  metbods  in  psycbology 
to  tbe  elucidatio;i  of  .^j'iritual  ('X]icricnce  and  life.  Xot  only  bave 
tbcsc  important  rao^■ements  invaded  tbe  field  of  religious  tbouglit, 
tbey  bave  also  given  us  a  new  type  of  tbinking  to  appeal  to,  We 
are  ourselves  ^vitnesse5  to  tbis  fact.  We  may  bold  tbe  old  doc- 
trines, but  V.-G  find  ourselves  corapcjled  to  tbink  tbem  out  by  now 
processes.  Xo  man  Avbo  is  at  once  vitally  religious  and  vitally 
intellectual  can  tbii;k  bim^clf  into  tbe  exact  forms  of  a  past  gen- 
eration. Tbe  period  of  traiif^ition  wbicb  tbese  infiueuces  intro- 
duced is  not  yet  ovc]-.  We  bave  won  tbe  new  positions,  but  we  bave 
by  no  means  fiuisbed  tbe  task  of  subduing  and  organizing  tbe  con- 
quered territory.  *'Tbcre  rcmalnetb  yet  very  mucb  land  to  be 
possessed."  Tf,  now,  we  take  an  account  of  stock,  we  sball  find  tbat 
we  bave  not  jxai-ted  wilb  tbe  old  fundamentals.  Tbey  are  not  there 
uncbanged,  but  tbey  are  still  ibere.  Tbe  timorous  souls  wbo  cried, 
'•'If  tbe  foundations  be  destroyed,  wbat  sball  tbe  rigbteous  do?" 
bave  bad  ibiir  wail  for  naugbt.  It  v.-as  supposed  at  fir?;t  tbat  evo- 
lution really  explained  every tbing;  tbat  it  was  more  tban  a  syn- 
tbesized  statement  of  processes,  and  since  it  bold  in  itself  a  suiTi- 
eient  account  of  tlie  beginning  and  a  sufficient  promise  and  potency 
of  all  unfolding  and  c^<nr-ummati<.ii,  ibal  it  relieved  us  of  all  neces- 
sity for  a  God  or  a  religion.  Criticism  lias  not  dctbroncd  tbe  Liblo 
from  its  unique  position  among  sacred  literatures.  It  lias  sbowu 
tbat  tbe  value  of  tbe  Eible  is  exclusively  religious.  We  are  ceasing 
to  regard  it  as  a  tbesaiirus  of  inspired  information  on  all  subjects, 
but  as  a  manual  '..f  religion  it  is  siill  in  a  class  by  itself.  In  it  God 
speaks  to  tbe  buman  soul  as  nov.Iiere  else.  If  it  is  a  mere  natural 
evolution  of  buman  strivings  after  God,  tben  bnuuni  nature  iu  tbe 
Hebrew  race  was  sometbing  radically  different  from  buman  nature 
in  general.  For  s})iritual  life  and  all  questions  related  tbereto  tbo 
Bible  is  still  the  final  court  of  aj-poal.  So  witb  tbe  otber  doctrines 
wbicb  bave  been  generally  re<.'arded  as  constituting  tbe  essential 
basis  of  tbe  Cbristian  faitli.  Cbrist  as  not  only  tbe  revealer  but 
al-o  tbe  revebition  of  God  to  mm,  an  atonement  wbicb  an-;wers  ibo 


1910]         'A7i  Opiimi.^[ic  Vicio  of  Lifn  in  ilie  Cliurclir.<i  307 

demaiuk  of  eternal  law,  a  spiritual  life  wliicli  may  Le  defirjcd  as 
the  life  of  God  in  tlic  .^onl  of  man — all  these  are  retained,  althongh 
they  are  conceived  uni'ur  new  forms.  This  is  a  resuh  of  the  exten- 
sion of  ihe  scienlific  method  beyond  the  limitb  claimed  by  those 
who  advanced  it.  It  is  scientific  in  religion,  as  in  all  else,  to  srJj- 
niit  new  theories  to  practical  tests.  We  are  beginning  to  recognize 
the  fact  that  the  final  word  iu  religious  thinldng  is  not  to  be  found 
in  the  vagaries  of  dariiig  speculators  or  in  the  closet  conclusions 
of  scholars,  but  in  tlie  wronght-out  message  of  men  who  are  dealing 
directly  with  souls  in  need.  Brov/n-Sequard's  elixii'  and  Koch's 
lymph  were  the  work  of  physicians  of  the  very  first  rank  in  medical 
research,  tmt  they  failed  under  the  test  of  the  ordinary  practitioner 
in  the  clinic.  A  doctrine  of  salvation  must  be  one  that  actually 
saves.  It  does  not  signify  how  correct  and  perfectly  fashioned  it 
may  seem  to  some  cerUiin  "ninety  and  nine  just  men  who  need  no 
repentance"  unless  it  impels  them  to  go  in  search  of  ihe  lost  one  in 
the  wilderness,  and  proves  effectual  in  bringing  him  back  from  his 
wandering.  A  doctrine  of  development  must  be  one  that  will 
develop  the  spiritual  life  not  merely  in  a  select  and  sercuc  few  but 
in  ordijiary,  untrained,  commonplace,  busy  men.  As  the  general 
practitiorjer  is  the  final  critic  of  theories  in  medicine,  so  the  evan- 
gelistic pastor  has  the  last  word  on  theories  in  religion.  Progress 
in  doctrine  seems  to  conform  to  the  theory  of  evolution  ;  tliere  is  a 
surprising  fecundity  and  variety  of  production,  but  final  results 
are  secured  by  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  and  the  fittest  is  that 
which  is  best  adapted  to  the  environment  of  a  world  that  is  lost 
in  sin. 

Id  this  process  the  churches  arc  gradually  drawing  together. 
Many  of  the  old  discussions  have  been  dismissed.  Only  from  far 
and  isolated  corners  do  we  hear  the  clash  of  strife  between  Calvin- 
ist  and  Arminiau,  Baptist  and  Pedobaptist.  The  combatants  arc 
being  disaruied  of  their  lerriblc  array  of  proof  texts.  2\rcn  arc 
fctudying  the  Bible  not  to  gather  collections  of  texts  joined  by  some 
superficial  similarity,  but  to  trace  the  development  of  great  ideas 
which  are  involved  in  the  process  of  redemption  and  evolve  \\ilh 
its  unfolding.  The  Bible  is  no  longer  regarded  as  anvihlng  like  a 
cxle  of  laws  but,  rrither,  as  a  rcnclaticai  of  law.     We  have  a  new 


39S  McOiodisi  Jlcvicw  [May 

coiicepiioii  of  spirituol  laws,  which  views  them  not  as  statutory 
ciiactiiiciits  but  as  the  luitiiral  laws  which  govern  the  interaction  of 
personalities.  We  arc  finuing  thai  truth,  in  its  last  analysis,  is  a 
revelatio]!  of  personality  and  not  a  collection  of  abstract  proposi- 
tions. Influence  is  not  a  njysterious  clliux  from  personality,  but 
the  direct  consequence  of  the  imnicdiate  impact  of  one  personality 
upon  another.  Any  doctrinc^s  v\t  may  hold  must  square  with  this 
notion  of  spiritual  law.  Xotions  of  atonement  and  forgiveness 
must  be  personal  and  dyjiamic,  rather  than  artificial  and  forensic. 
Doctrines  of  s]i)iritnnl  life  which  huKl  as  essential  the  peculiar 
ex2)ericnces  of  any  special  type  of  personality  are  giving  place  to 
notions  that  recognize  the  spiritual  equality  of  all  temperaments. 
We  are  approaching  all  questions  from  new  angles,  and  our  old 
points  of  collision  are  out  of  the  field  of  our  real  thiriking.  As  a 
consequence,  the  jniljut  messages  in  all  our  churches  are  coming  to 
agree  so  nearly  that  an  occasional  exchange  of  preachers  creates  no 
stir  or  sense  of  strangeness  in  the  minds  of  the  congregation. 

What  of  the  work  of  extension?  AYe  are  coming  in  this 
country  to  a  change  of  method  in  con-equence  of  the  narrowing 
area  for  the  work  of  the  propagandist.  The  country  is  ]n-actically 
evangelized.  Fevr  njcn,  if  any,  arc  out  of  the  church  because  of 
lack  of  opportunity  to  enter  it  ijitcHigc'iitly.  ]\Ien  are  rejecting 
Christ  not  through  tnibelief  Imt  because  of  their  unwillingness  to 
accept  Christ's  program  for  life.  Tv.o  methods  of  ju'opagandism 
arc  open:  the  indirect  method  of  moral  leavening  which  gradually 
eliminates  the  hostility  to  the  Christian  standard  of  living,  so 
bringing  men  in  easier  reach  of  the  church,  and  the  raore  direct 
method  of  constant,  organized  pressure  of  pei'sonal  influence  which 
seeks  out  men  in  a  systematic  search  to  lead  them  to  Christ.  It  is 
to  be  noted  that  great  revivals  to-day  are  marked  chiefly  by  their 
intense,  thoroucrh  orgai.dzation.  The  winning  churches  are  those 
-whose  wo]-k  is  highly  systematized  and  coristant.  Gains  of  this 
kind  are  of  nccesbily  slow  and  steady,  btit  wc  do  gain.  Careful 
estimates  from  time  to  time  agree  that  the  churches  are  steadily 
increasing  in  propoition  to  the  population.  Two  tilings  of  spcfial 
note  in  current  church  life  may  not  imjiroperly  be  dragged  in  here. 
'Jlie  first  of  these  is  the  ureat  investuieut  of  monrv  in  religious 


iOlO]  An  OpUmhtic  VlcAr  of  Life  in  Ihc  Churches  300 

» i.'.(ri>i-I.-^rj-.  nuiulrods  of  ijow  eljurebcs  of  great  cost,  wi<:l(4y  dis- 
»ii!>'Ut-(l,  ^vi^.•l_v  a(1:ii>tcJ  ti)  a  broa<leini)g  range  of  churelily  tictiv- 
iti<  S  nulliou'^  of  d'>i!ars  invested  in  colleges,  hospitals,  orphanages, 
li..:iH'.^  of  various  soils,  all  toslify  to  an  intense  and  vigorons  life. 
Tiuv  indicate  the  doe}),  strong  hold  \vhicli  the  churches  have  upon 
pr.tctical  men.  Of  the  same  import  is  the  other  movement,  the 
oriraiii/xd  men's  movement.  Hitherto  church  organizations  have 
Itvu  usnally  organ.izations  of  v^omcn.  The  men's  movement  is  the 
virv  latest  development.  It  shows  the  direction  in  which  the 
fhnix'li  Hie  is  growing.  Ever^'  considerable  congTCgation  is  com- 
inu'  to  have  its  clnb  or  brotherhood  or  men's  organized  Bible  class. 
'J'hrso  separate  bodies  are  forming  into  wider  organizations  in 
j«<Tordance  with  the  polity  of  their  several  denominations.  The 
masculine  clement  in  the  chnrchcs  is  coming  to  gTcater  prominence 
arul  a  stronger  appeal  is  going  from  the  churches  to  unsaved  men, 
iW'A  the  m-.'n  constitnte  the  larger  part  of  the  unchmT.hcd  popu- 
l.ifion. 

In  the  endeavor  to  evangelize  the  heathen  peoples  the  chnrchcs 
li;ive  never  befoin?  confionted  conditions  so  hopeful  and  inviting, 
'il'"  work  constantly  ontrnvis  our  expectations  and  our  liberality. 
In  India,  where  vrc 'dreamed  one  day  of  ten  thousand  Christians, 
y>--'  a.ve  maliiiig  annual  additions  that  crowd  the  ten-thousand  mark 
i-.^id  Sometimes  pass  it.  China,  revolutionizing  her  educational 
;  y-t"in,  putting  the  opium  traffic  in  process  of  extinction,  intro- 
diu'irva  the  Xew  Testament  into  the  schools  of  some  of  her  po])u- 
)'»H  ]Arovincc«,  and  purchasing  copies  of  it  by  the  tens  of  thon- 
vtj)d-j,  oOV-rs  th*^  greatest  field  for  missionary  enterprise  that  has 
«'T-i:;d  in  all  the  centui'ics.  Korea  and  the  Philippines  arc  dis- 
!•'..  ying  records  of  missionary  success  that  border  on  the  miraculous, 
'i'liitik  uf  a  Ivorean  city  with  more  than  three  thousand  Christians 
:w:.l  a  j.rayer  meeting  that  passes  the  thousand  mark.  Think  of 
'\:'-  (.in  of  thousands  of  converts  gathered  in  the  Philippines  since 
•!:>•  .\ijieriean  occnpation.  Think  of  the  new  lines  of  attack  upon 
♦.h-  i:r.j..t  Moslem  problem,  wliieh  are  being  opened  with  splendid 
:-r-.!ni.-<'  lor  this  nnal  contest  of  religions.  Concurrent  with  these 
fi.  at  niovntienls  iji  the  foreign  field  is  a  great  awakening  of  mi;^- 
■i<'n;iry  ir.terc-t  throiudiout   the  chu)-ch  at  home.     The   Student 


400  Mclhodht  Ilcvicw  [Mny 

Volunteer  movement,  -svliicli  has  jii.st  closed  its  great  coiivoDtiou  of 
more  tbaii  five  thousand  accredited  dcl(\i;ates  from  tbe  cboicc  spirits 
of  our  colleges;  the  ^Mibsiou  Study  movemcut,  with  its  increasing 
thousands  of  classes  meeting  for  the  study  of  this  great  problem; 
the  Laymen's  Aiissionary  ^Movouent,  with  its  enlistUKnit  of  strong, 
clear-headed,  practical  business  men  and  its  emphatic  message  that 
Christian  missions  aiford  a  most  profitable  field  for  the  investment 
of  money;  the  increase  of  giving  for  missions — all  these  testify  to 
the  dcej)  and  earnest  life  of  the  churches  as  manifest  in  their  grow- 
ing sense  of  rcsponsiljillly  to  all  men  for  Christ's  sake.  Every- 
where the  skies  are  full  of  ho])c. 

Finally,  what  as  to  the  output  of  character?  This  is  the  ulti- 
mate test  of  success  or  failure.  ^Nothing  is  gained  by  inducing  a 
man  to  accept  a  theology  or  to  enter  a  chui'ch  unless  he  is  thereby 
lifted  to  a  higher  level  of  moral  living.  Mere  proselytism  is  the 
most  utter  waste  of  cflort  yet  devised.  2\o  other  cjuestions  are  as 
important  as  these:  Are  we  raising  the  standard  of  personal  char- 
acter and  life?  Are  the  people  in  our  churches  becoming  more 
honest  and  truthful  and  jjure?  Are  we  lifting  them  to  higher, 
finer  mora.l  li\'ing  than  has  been  attained  by  the  masses  of  cm- 
people  hitherto?  "VVc  still  lift  the  people  who  come  to  us  above 
their  old  selves,  but  it  may  honestly  be  doubted  whether  or  not  we 
are  bringing  them  U})  to  any  higher  standards  of  private  character 
than  our  fathers  held.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  discipline  in 
the  churches  is  far  le.~s  rigorous  than  in  former  years.  We  have, 
however,  this  distinct  advantage,  that  the  moral  life  of  the  churches 
ha?  not  declined.  IsIqxi  are  living  freely  and  voluntarily  on  levels 
that  were  guarded  in  the  past  by  careful  and  rigid  discipline.  But 
if  the  moral  life  of  the  churches  is  not  much  higher  than  formerly, 
it  is  certainly  much  broader.  The  old  notion  of  salvation  expressed 
in  the  words  "a  heaven  to  gain  and  a  hell  to  shun"  is  giving  way 
to  a  larger  interpretation.  We  are  coming  to  sec  that  salvation 
sets  a  man  to  manufacturing  heaven  on  his  own  account  out  of  the 
raw  material  around  him,  and  to  wiping  out  a  little  of  the  hell 
which  is  all  too  abundant  in  this  life,  whatever  we  may  conclude 
about  the  nc:vt.  Salvation  is  ceasing  to  be  regarded  as  a  purely 
personal  matter.     We  are  beginning  to  recognize  the  significance 


1010]      An  OplhnlsHc  View  of  Life  in  {lie  Chnrclics 


401 


of  tlic  fact  that  men  are  savcfl,  not  as  isolated  individuals,  but  as 
indi\idual?  in  society.  Jveligioii  is  ]iot  separated  from  any  of  the 
concerns  of  this  life  or  from  any  of  onr  points  of  contact  with 
others.  "Whole  areas  of  ]nd)]ic'  and  corporate  activity  which  have 
Leon  turned  over  to  eorrnption  and  decay  are  beginning  to  be  re- 
deemed. A  new  civic  and  social  conscience  has  been  born.  The 
churches  are  addi'cssing  themselves  more  openly  to  the  advocacy  of 
civic  and  social  rcgeneratio]i.  Such  qn(.\stious  as  child  labor,  iho 
general  labor  j)roblem,  predatory  wealth,  municipal  misgovern- 
ment  and  corruption,  the  saloon,  the  gambling  evil,  and  tlie  nu- 
spealcablc  "white  slave"  traflic  are  engaging  the  allenlion  of  ihc 
churches  as  never  before,  liighteousness  is  pushing  o\it  of  ihe 
strictly  passive,  personal  stage  into  the  aggi-essivc  type  that  sings 
"The  Son  of  God  goes  forth  to  war"  and  then  girds  on  the  sword  to 
"follow  in  his  train,*'  As  a  consequence,  the  country  has  beru 
CTijoyiiig  the  greatest  cleaning  up  of  its  history,  a  work  that  is  pre- 
paring the  way  for  the  further  winning  of  men  for  the  kingdom. 
The  churches  are  greater  than  they  have  ever  been  in  the  history 
of  the  country.  Their  influence  was  never  more  potent,  their 
adjustment  to  their  problems  never  more  intelligent,  their  future 
never  more  hopeful. 


403  MclhodiH  Beview  [May 


Ar.T.  VI.— ^'AP.MS  AXD  THE  MAX" 

LuT  for  the  ]'cqiiirein''ijts  nf  licxamcter  Virgil  might  have 
surig  of  ''man  ami  ariu.s" — and  in  that  o;-dcr.  I  used  to  think  that 
he  ought  to  liavc  done  so,  f^acrilieing  p]-05ody  if  necessary.  ''Man 
before  ruetal;-'  of  course;  or  there  would  have  been  no  metals  dis- 
covered, no  battles  to  wage,  no  issues  to  quarrel  about.  Man  first 
— then  lore  and  ha(e  and  war.  Yet  not  invariably.  And  evcu  if 
this  immortal  singer  had  been  unembarrassed  by  poetic  rules  he 
still  inight  have  sung  of  '•arms  and  the  num."  For  if  man  invents, 
discovers,  planl-^  flags  on  nev\-  eontinenlSj  he  has  also  to  grow  to- 
ward a  full  u.~e  of  his  new  possessions.  His  own  personal  develop- 
ment follows  thai  of  his  new  device.  For  example,  the  flying  ma- 
chine is  no  longer  the  comic  droa.m  of  versifiers;  it  is  an  accom- 
plished fact.  Man  ha.>  ar-tuaTy  floiot.  But  how  long  it  will  be 
before  he  can  lly  when  ami  ■whiilicv  he  will,  in  defiance  of  weather 
and  without  jeopard  of  his  neck — in  short,  how  long  it  will  take 
man  the  aviator  to  perfect  the  use  of  his  own  daring  device,  is  by 
no  means  clear.  One  recalls  the  case  of  that  experimenter  in  high 
explosives  whose  first  deinonslration  of  the  power  of  his  new 
formula  nearly  cost  him  his  lif,-.  The  automobile  is  here;  but 
the  "slaughier  of  innoceu!-''  in  our  streets  bears  tragic  witness  that 
man  has  not  yet  learned  liow  to  handle  his  new  triumph.  "What 
llioughtful  student  but  realizes  that  certain  scandals  and  enor- 
mities of  our  day  were  impossible  under  au  older  regime? 
Socialism  is  a  pnssioiuite  oy  of  nuin-alive  against  his  brother's 
inhumanity  and  inept inuh.-  in  the  exploitation  of  huge  ad- 
vantage. Vhat  are  the  uugO'lly  fortunes  of  a  few  modern 
Cra^suses,  what  the  fi-ank  brutalities  of  au  industrial  age,  what 
the  hard  commerciali/iug  of  life's  fmcst  sentiments  and  abil- 
ities, but  confession  tliat  our  ]uind<  have  not  yet  grov/n  in  skill  and 
grasp  to  handle  1h<^  new  tools  w'wh  v.hich  v.v  are  so  splendidly 
furnished?  To  do  a  man's  full  pari,  in  this  day  of  complicate*! 
and  delicate  instrumenrs  of  work  and  v.-ar,  ta];es  an  am})ler  nmn. 
*'God  give  us  men" — luU  larger  luiilt  and  finer  graiiu-d  ! 

Xowhere  are  tiie  rielus  of  moderuitv  more  embarrassing  than 


1010]  "Arms  and  ihc  ^Slnn"  403 

ill  the  realm  of  tnitli  Aviili  Avbich  we,  as  ministers,  deal.  It  is 
sheerest  truism  to  say  that  "wc  touch  immensities,  profundities, 
infinities,  beyond  the  guess  of  our  spiritual  sires.  The  hammers 
of  modern  thought  have  hnoclced  many  partitions  out  of  tlie  ^yor]d 
Ave  live  in,  giving  us  nc\v  sense  and  eoneeption  of  the  bigness  of  tlie 
Fatlier's  house.  We  have  flung  away  some  of  the  old  measuring 
lines,  struck  rich  veins  far  belo\v  the  old  workings  of  philosophy, 
surprised  ourselves  v.ilh  the  sheer  daring  of  our  mental  adventure. 
"We  think  more  generously  of  man,  more  Avorthily  of  God,  more 
harmoniously  of  the  universe.  oSTot  always  v.iilingly,  to  be'  sure; 
sometimes  with  a  sort  of  pathetic  reluctance  have  wc  discarded  old 
categoric?-  and  learned  to  think  in  nevr  terms.  The  new  house  into 
which  we  have  moved  finds  us  lonely  sometimes,  half  homesick  for 
the  familiar,  if  narrow,  walls  of  yesterday.  But  the  old  lionsc  is 
•demolished  and  the  new  is  oui-s.  And  not  only  to  the  Lrunos, 
'Bacons  and  Xants,  the  Kelvins,  Lc  Comtes  and  Danas,  but  also  to 
the  "great  heretics  of  yesterday"  arc  we  indebted  for  the  splendor 
of  our  iK'v.-  surroundings.  Glimpses  of  God  at  work,  dreams  of 
man  as  God's  partner,  visions  of  human  destiny  passing  the  ecsta- 
sies, and  even  the  impious  queries  of  fifty  or  even  thirty  years  ago, 
are  the  sheer  platitudes  of  the  modern  pulpit.  It  would  be  easy 
to  bankrupt  one's  store  of  adjectives:  the  very  wind  and  whiff  of 
modern  thinking  i-  t'-nic.  Proximity  to  great  tru.ths  "disturbs  u~ 
with  the  joy  of  elevated  thoughts."  AA^e  have  the  fee-ling  of  being 
as  far  ahead  of  our  sires  in  theological  as  in  agricultural  or  govern- 
mental equipment.  Co)iceptions  whose  jirofundity  goes  beyond 
the  soundings  of  Wesley  and  Melanehthon  ;  truths  which  for  splen- 
did audacity  outdare  the  flights  of  Feiielou  and  Francis;  mini-^- 
terial  a<-eouterments  outclassing  the  furnishings  of  Benedict  au<l 
Zwiiigli  and  Augustine,  as  the  modern  mill  eclipses  the  spinning 
wheel,  or  the  Twentieth  Century  Limited  the  colonial  stagecoach 
— these  are  ours  I  Yet  by  no  means  for  disjday  or  mental  self- 
aggrandizement.  Oi  small  avail  is  the  superior  tool  which  ru>ts 
out ;  which  I  he  worbl  admires  but  cannot  manage.  "Know  ye  not," 
asked  Ahab  once,  "that  liamoth  is  ours,  and  we  be  still  and  take  it 
not  ^''  thus  iiilimatliig  a  stinging  truth — that  a  possession  may 
be  our-  an.d  yet  nut  really  possessed  by  us,  that  we  may  be  i\o\\  in 


404  Mclhodlst  Ilcvicw  [:^[ay 

a?sertiiig  claim  to  and  use  of  lliat  AvLicli  Ijeloii;:,^  to  \is  by  divine 
devise.  Comparisons  arc  liolh  odious  and  nnjn-ofitaLle,  yet  this 
appears,  that,  v/hercas  the  modern  farmers  harvests  an  increased 
cro])  at  decreased  labor,  and  the  present-flay  manufactnrer  in  open 
market  2Hits  liis  primitive  compel itor  out  of  business,  vre  of  the 
pulpit,  more  siijx'rbly  furnislied  than  ever  before,  painfully  illut-- 
trate  the  law  of  the  diminishing  return.  I  need  not  adduce  figures, 
facts  would  remain  the  same  in  the  face  of  statistics  far  more 
heartening  than  any  the  censusmongers  have  to  offer.  Eemember- 
ing  always  that  the  finest  results  of  modern  gospelizing  arc  most 
incapable  of  being  tabulated  in  columns  or  weighed  on  commercial 
scales,  that  the  bigness  of  oui-  a(l\e:iture  forbids  premature  fore- 
casts as  to  its  result,  there  still  lingers  in  many  eager  minds  a  stub- 
born sense  of  incompetence,  as  if  the  Decring  Harvester  should 
show  fewer  bushels  per  acre  than  the  old  hand  method;  as  if  a 
]\iaAim  gun  missed  the  inark  oftener  than  did  the  blunderbuss  or 
flintlock  of  our  f oref athei-s ;  as  if  the  Lusitania  had  little  ehe  to 
commend  her  beside  the  height  of  her  funnels  and  the  excellence  of 
her  cuisine! 

But  speaking  more  partieidarly,  take  our  modern  doctrine  of 
the  divine  innuanence.  Xot  that  the  thought  is  new,  for  it  is  older 
than  Christianity,  and  Allen,  in  his  heljjful  volume,  shows  how  the 
church  has  oscillated  betv.ceu  the  C!reek  and  the  Iioman  spirit, 
between  the  doctrines  of  innuanence  and  transcendence.  "In  him 
we  live,"  said  the  chief  a])Osile.  And,  as  Foster  points  out,  Jesus's 
doctrine  of  the  Father  is  rich  implication  of  the  best  content  of  the 
idea  of  immanence.  God  is 'not  only  "Back  of  the  wheat  .  .  . 
the  seed  and  shov^-er,"  but  present,  working,  self-expressive.  Xot 
a  theatric,  staged  God,  showing  himself  in  tragic  roles  particularly 
and  making  inconsequent  irru]itions  into  the  audience  now  and 
then,  but  God  the  strength  by  which  all  things  consist,  the  "sparkle 
of  the  star  and  life  of  every  creature" — this  is  God  as  we  worship 
and  preach  him.  With  .1  finer  reverence  than  that  of  Moses  we 
have  learned  to  stand  before  a  common  bush  nnsandaled.  But  this 
also  appears,  that,  however  well  this  great  truth  worked  in  the 
niijii^try  of  Jesus,  it  goes  di^~ap])(.intiiigly  in  ours.  Carlylc  groaned 
ai-ainst  an  absentee  G^d  who  "sits  in  heaven  and  docs  nothln"-"; 


JDJOj  ^' Ai-iiis  o.iid  Ulc  Man"  .-105 

l)ut  ITc  who,  aecorJhip;  lo  lliat  aui;'u.st  coiiccplioii,  sat  ''Eiitln-oncd 
amid  tlio  radiajit  sjibfres,  aiid  glory  like  a  garinout  -woars/'  at  least 
got  liiui-elf  obeyed  l)ctler  tliau  docs  the  modern  AIl-Failicr,  who 
live?  evcry^vhcn'O  and  "dues  everyiliiiig."  If  the  Puritan  lived  in 
nionieiitai'v  dread  of  being  snared  in  sonic  act  of  folly  and  v^-hisked 
a^vay  \vithont  time  for  tears  or  pi-aycrs;  if  he  rarely  expected  God 
to  repeat  overtures  of  merey,  and  looked  to  heaven  not  as  the  eon- 
sniinnation  of  an  age-long  purpose,  but  as  a  ])icco  of  famous  luek,  a 
.sort  of  griju  «u)-}^i'ise,  to  an  absent  and  cajjricions  Deity,  he  ;i(  b.ast 
made  better  ^vork  of  his  precarious  calling  than  do  ^vo  of  the  in- 
tinuite  daily  calls  of  an  immanent  Cod.  Familiarity  bi-eeds  a  sort 
of  noncJialancc,  if  not  contemjit.  Perhaps  ^Moses  would  have  he];!, 
his  shoes  on  if  he  had  seen  ''Every  common  l»ush  alli'e  with  (!od.'' 
Paul  might  liave  been  less  obedient  to  the  heavenly  vlslnii  if  he  hail 
under.-tood  modern  psychology.  Xay,  <7esns  could  scarcely  luivo 
cried  out  so  bitterly  from  the  cross  if  he  had  realized  that  ''God  is 
nev(  r  so  far  away  as  even  to  be  near."  We  have  grasped  the 
1)(  lt«'r  thouglit- — to  onr  hurl,  lie  whose  ''increasing  purpose"  runs 
through  all  change  and  decay,  whose  consideratencss  of  indi\idual 
sjiarrows  and  separate  hairs  we  at  length  believe,  the  God  of  all 
gifts  and  inspirer -of  every  fine  impulse,  is  too  near  for  ordinary 
eyes  to  realize  his  royalty.  If  there  is  neither  "near"  ]ior  "far" 
vrith  hi]n,  why  talk  about  .seeking  him  "while  he  may  be  found"  ? 
If  he  loves  so  well  let  him  return  his  ov.m  calls!  "If  (Cioil)  will 
have  me  king,  why  (God)  may  crown  me  without  my  siir."  Sm-h 
is  too  frequently  the  modern  mood — the  siurilual  oO.-et  and  dis- 
ad\-antage  (>f  a  g]-eat  doelrinal  r;ai]i. 

]jut  let  us  follow  the  sugg<siion  further.  The  nmn  who  stays 
away  from  chuj-eh  need  scarcely  remind  us  that  he  has  )nerely 
taken  us  at  our  word.  Being  assured  that  "every  place  is  hallowed 
ground,"  he  cannot  be  altogether  blauu'd  if  he  prefers  a  forest 
cathedral  to  a  study  church,  not  to  say  "senuons  in  stones"  to  ordi- 
nary j)ul}ui  ])rodue(ions.  "Tlie  time  is  coining,"  said  Je.-us  to  the 
Samaritan  ^\o!uan,  "when  neither  in  tliis  mountain,  nor  yet  at 
Jerusalrni,  shall  ye  -woirhij)  ihe  k'alher."  It  was  a  glorinns,  ti-aus- 
figuring  thing  to  say.  It  ilung  the  doors  wide  ojhu.  hailiug  llim 
who  is  "within  no  walls  confined.''     The  trouble  is  that  multitudes 


400  Mcihodlsl  Bcvicw  [May 

hare  forgoltc-n  llie  yq<\.  of  t])(^  qiiolatioi,  and  liave  accc-plcd  the 
broader  truth  as;  occasion  for  rcloasonicnt  from  th?  conventional 
practices  of  worship.  What  to  snlistitutc  for  the  old  urgency  of 
times  and  seasons — how  to  lead  his  children  to  ''worship  the  Father 
in  spirit  and  in  truth"  Avithout  tlie  compulsion  of  sacred  hours  and 
places — is  our  incrcasinp;  prt)l)leni.  Truly  does  the  hymiiist  sing 
that  ''Work  shall  l)e  pi-ayer  if  all  be  wrought  intent  on  pleasing 
thee" — that  is,  in  the  s])irit  of  prayer.  What  happens,  however, 
is  that  any  kind  of  work  is  called  prayer — no  matter  for  the  spirit 
of  it — and  the  hard-worked  man  ranks  the  piety  of  his  hands  as 
precious  as  the  piety  of  his  soul,  and  at  the  next  remove  only  a 
prayerless  task  remain^! 

The  hand  that  rounded  Petor'f:  dome. 
And  groined  the  aisles  of  Christian  Rome, 
Wrought  in  a  sad  sincerity 

— perhaps ;  and  for  a  reason  the  jK.et  did  not  intend.  If  the  round- 
ing of  a  dome  and  the  gj-oining  of  an  aisle — or,  for  that  matter, 
the  skill  of  a  physician  or  the  training  of  a  child — be  the  only 
prayer  the  woi'.-hiper  puts  up,  his  "sincerity"  is  indeed  a  '"sad"' 
one.  Ilis  ?\)\\i  has  ]io  oratory;  his  picture  no  high  lights;  his 
music  no  valid  pitch.  Doubtless  we  need  to  be  reminded  to 
"remember  the  week  day  to  keep  it  holy,"  and,  with.  John  Hay, 
that  certain  homely  tasks  are  ''better  business"  for  men  and  angels 
than  swinging  censci's  or  ''li'afnig  arounJ  the  thrc>ne."  The  prac- 
tical question  remains  to  br-  asked,  however,  whether  the  new  doc- 
trine has  helped  or  hurt  nvtve;  wheiher  the  attem])t  to  sanctify  an 
entire  week,  an  entii'C  life,  really  sanctifies  or  secularizes  the  whole. 
Again,  consider  the  modern  doctrine  of  the  Bible.  Doubtless 
tlie  Dible  is  a  greater  book  since  ^re  relinquished  the  automatic 
tlir-ory  of  its  production.  !Xev,'  light  has  indeed  broken  frojn  the 
familiar  ]>ages  as  a  result  ('f  new  light  potn-ed  ujion  them.  In  par- 
ticular, the  humanizing  of  the  l^ook  renders  it  more  i)roioundly 
divine.  It  is  the  human  ]ioie  in  the  Psalms  which,  as  Coleridge 
said,  "finds  ns";  the  sheer  human  interest  which  challenges  ours; 
the  human  life  of  Ood  which  clutches  and  commands  our  o^^^^. 
The  less  Danifl's  niy.-tifying  "weeks"  mean,  the  more  of  a  In-other 
he  is  to  us.    Whether  Isaiah  was  one  or  two — what  matter,  so  long 


:1010]  ^^  Anns  and  the  Man"  407 

as  God  gets  at  us  ibioiigli  the  propliet's  word  ?  Tlio  Eevolator  saw 
move  tliat  \\-Q  are  iRediiig  (o  see  if  we  limit  his  vision  to  earth. 
Tlie  grcaler  the  luuiiLer  of  hands  cojispiring  to  give  us  one  Bo()lc, 
with  one  increasing  message,  one  life,  and  one  face,  the  greater  the 
wonder.  But  %vhat  more?  Whv,  this,  that  the  Uible  may  he 
''a  bigger  book  in  the  estimation  of  men"  and  still  be  a  weaker 
force  in  their  lives ;  may  be  iiicreasingly  read  for  literature,  ideals, 
romance,  and  at  the  same  time  bo  decreasinglj  followed.  Lock- 
ha7-l  need  not  have  as]:cd  "'Which  book?"  when  the  dying  Sir  Wal- 
ter asked  for  ''The  Book."  Even  to  the  skeptic  and  scoffing  of  that 
day  the  Bible  had  a  certain  nniqneness.  By  virtue  of  a  certain 
aloofness  and  air  of  mystery  it  was  truly  '^Book  of  books,"  to  whoso 
peculiar  message  an  attentive  ear  might  at  length  be  vouchsafed. 
Bui  wilh  the  rednciion.  of  so  many  biblical  features  to  the  lowest 
terms  of  the  mechanics  and  ])sychulogy;  with  extension  to  Socra- 
tes and  Shakespeare,  to  Buddha  and  Browning,  of  our  conce])tion 
of  inspiration ;  nay,  vith  God  speaking  not  only  in  books  but  in 
flowers  and  sunsets  and  cataracts,  in  all  history,  so  that  none  is 
loi'.ger  profane,  through  all  peojjles  instead  of  one  "peculiar  peo- 
]tle" ;  by  awakened  consciences  and  growth  of  new  ideals  every- 
wliei-e — who  shall  say  that  the  Book  of  which  I\faithcw  Arnold 
said  that  '"to  it  \ve  shall  return"  has  not  suffered  grievous  practical 
Imrt  ? 

'Then  there  is  the  modern  idea  of  sin.  Ours  is  a  franker, 
truer,  kinder  word  for  the  sinner;  franker,  in  that  we  admit  tliat 
we  know  absolutely  nothing  concerning  the  origin  of  evil;  truer, 
b«^cause  we  have  ceased  trying  to  measure  fins  like  cordwood ; 
kinder,  for  the  reason  tliat  we  recognize  the  common  root  of  all  evil 
in  on r.-- elves.  \\'c  no  longer  talk  of  ''inherited  guilt,"  for  guilt  is 
no  more  transferable  than  merit;  Tior  of  "total  depravity,"  lest  we 
slander  God.  Fancy  telling  a  modern  congregation  that  ''God 
looks  upon  the  soul  as  Amnion  did  upon  Tamar.  While  it  was  a 
viriiin  he  h.vod,  but  now  it  is  deflowered  he  hates  it."  Pily  I'oh- 
«  rt  Soiiih  did  not  carry  out.  his  analogy  and  see  where  it  would 
h'.iid  him,  for  Ammr.n  cnnsi  d  the  defdement  he  later  d''.-<j)i-'<cd.  We 
know  now  that  nnan  has  brought  down  from  his  brute  ancestry  a 
host  of  appetites  whose  indulgence  for  hira  may  be  sin.    Wc  eagerly 


408  Mclliodm  lUvicw  [May 

admit  tliat  wLiit  the  ]*]ini'isce  in  iis  loo  promptly  proiioiiiicos  evil 
may,  as  El•o^vnillg  ?nid,  be  ''silence  Imi)]yiijg  sound"  ;  or  may  even 
be  good  in  tlie  midcijig,  beauty  nm-ipc,  virtue  adolescent.  And 
having  said  so  mucli,  y:c.  jx-alizc  that,  somehow,  our  sword  has 
turned  its  edge.  "Wrong  people  were  better  managed  by  a  tyran- 
nical theology  than  by  the  sweet  reasonableness  of  our  later  expla- 
nallo]iS.  IV-rhaps  tlito-o  wei-e  cxteuuating  circumstances  in  David's 
case,  but  Xathan  sini])]y  jioinled  his  inexorable  finger  and  cried, 
''Thou  art  the  man.*'  To-day  \ve  should  ha\X'  so  many  mitigating 
things  to  say  that  David  might  get  oil'  without  learning  in  his  soul 
that  he  was  "the  man."  In  brief,  it  looks  as  if  by  trying  to  relieve 
the  situation  for  Adaiu  we  had  reduced  the  embarrassment  of  our 
own;  by  lifting  the  emphasis  from  sin  as  a  governmental  affront  to 
the  universe  ys'C  had  rcuioved  it  to  a  nebulous  I'egion  in  which  its 
perfidious,  sclf-de.sirurlive  nature  is  only  dimly  seen;  by  talking 
so  much  about  the  simu.-r's  need  of  sanitation,  hygiene,  and  fresh 
air  we  had  helped  him  forget  his  pathetic  and  uttermost  need  of  a 
Saviour  and  a  recreated  will. 

I  should  like  to  show  the  aj^plieatlon  to  and  the  illustration  of 
my  theme  in  our  nir.dorn  doctrine  of  salvation,  of  the  church,  of 
immortality,  but  v.ill  take  no  more  than  a  single  further  instance 
— our  doctrine  concerning  Christ.  Is  ever  before  was  Jesus  so  large 
in  the  world's  eye  as  now.  Such  plays  as  the  "Servant  in  the 
House"  and  "The  Passing  of  the  Third  Floor  Back,"  suck  novels 
as  Irving  Bacheller's  latest,  such  fiery,  vivid  apologetics  as  Ches- 
terton's— these  are  imni<-n>oly  significant.  Christ  has  more  ad- 
mirers, more  compliuieuts  than  ever  before.  But  what  advantage 
that  the  age  cry,  "Lord,  Lord,"  Avhile  it  does  not  the  things  v.'hich 
he  says?  ^Yhat  avails  that  statesmen  and  labor  leaders  are  proph- 
esying in  his  name,  and  in  his  name  casting  out  demons,  uidess 
they  sometimes  siiik  to  their  knees  confessing,  "My  Lord  and  my 
God"  ?  It  is  scarcely  unfair  to  say  that  Jesus  is  more  admired  and 
less  personally  obeyed,  more  flattered  and  less  followed,  more 
talked  of  and  less  talked  to,  than  in  any  })revious  age.  Well  enough 
to  rhapsodize  with  Sidney  Lanier, 

Jesiis,  good  Parngon, 
Thou  Crystal  Clu-ist. 


};nO]  ''Arms  and  ihe  Man"  400 

lm(  the  world  Jjceds  niorc  lliau  pp.! tern;  needs  sornewliat  besides 
aiul  ]x>yoiid  elliic;!]  beauty.  It  needs  power,  consti-aint,  conipul- 
eiou;  needs  not  merely  the  sense  of  being  colled  but  the  joy  of 
being  found.  "Why  didn't  you  answer?"  asked  a  mother  of  lier 
boy.  "Because  it  was  so  nice  to  hear  you  call."  Myriads  aic 
delighting  in  the  sound  of  Je.-us's  voice  across  the  centuries,  but 
decli}ie  to  leave  their  nets  and  follow  hiui.  Much  is  made  of  the 
workiugman's  tardy  discovery  that  Jesus  was  also  a  mechanic. 
What  is  needed,  however,  is  not  an  election  of  the  Carpenter  of 
Kazareth  to  membership  in  the  labor  unions,  but  the  election  of 
union  men  to  partnership  with  Christ  in  a  world's  in.dustrial  ]-e- 
demption — which  is  a  vastly  dilTerent  matter.  Beautiful  is  that 
story  of  the  modern  ]\ragdalen  vdio,  hearing  retold  the  incident  of 
llvAj  and  the  sjnkenard,  sfit  tugging  at  her  stubby,  bleaclu'd  liair, 
and  softly  crying,  "Yiy  hair  ain't  long  enough  to  wi])e  his  feet." 
The  question,  hovrevcr,  is  not  how  vro  sliall  treat  his  feel,  but  his 
claims.  His  mission  was  not  to  make  us  sorry  for  his  suilerings, 
but  ashamed  of  the  sins  which  caused  them.  Far  be  it  from  our 
vrish  to  deplore  the  wo]-ld's  late  discovery  how  human  Jesus  is, 
Init  what  if  it  miss  the  full  meaning  and  majesty  of  liis  perfect 
buraanness?  Foster,  in  one  of  his  most  controverted  volumes, 
draws  a  tender,  luminous  portrait  of  Jesus,  as  warmly  winsome 
fts  Tienan's,  as  chaste  as  Wernle's,  and  he  truly  sa^^s  that  the  king- 
dom will  come  in  when  men  become  like  that.  But  he  docs  not 
hazard  an  opinion  as  to  the  probability  of  the  transformation. 
Perhaps  he  realizes  that  goodness  must  do  more  than  chr.rm,  it 
must  compel ;  that  the  whole  world  may  run  after  Christ,  as  boys 
after  a  band,  yet  without  the  slightest  intention  of  enlisting  under 
his  banner.  "Oh,  yes,"  said  Heine,  standing  before  the  ^'enus  do 
Mile,  "she  is  very  beautiful,  but  she  has  no  arms."  Christ  is  still 
"the  fairest  nmong  ten  thousaijd,  and  altogether  lovely,"  but  .some- 
how we  have  shortened  his  arms.  To  be  loved  is  not  enough  for 
our  vagrant,  impulsl\-G  hearts.  Only  the  everlasting  love  of  iho 
Eternal  Christ  will  avail  to  hold  us  back  from  our  sins  and  up 
from  our  despair.  Uia  arms  must  indeed  b(^  the  arms  of  the  In- 
Hniie.  "A  hand  like  this  hand,"  cried  David  to  the  distempered 
Sard,  "shall  throw  open  the  gates  of  new  life  to  thee!"     Yes,  ix 


-110 


McOiodid  Lcvlev) 


[ifaj 


hand  like  this  liand,  yd  unlike  it;  v;ilh  a  hiiihcr  tendcriK'Ss  aud  a 
diviner,  hccaiiso  unique,  eteiiial  .si length. 

What  to  do,  then  i  Obviou^^ly,  one  of  lliree  things.  ^A"e  may, 
in  tlio  first  place,  admit,  \\\\\\  the  padness  of  Cliti'ord  or  the  bitter- 
ness of  Carlyle,  that  Chri.-t's  '"pa]!  is  played  out";  that  the  world 
has  outgrown  the;  need  of  a  gospel  of  repentance  and  faith;  that 
the  modern  doctrines  of  the  chui'ch  ai'e  at  or.ce  the  property  of  the 
world  and  a  confession  thai  tla-  clnircli  is  itself  an  anomaly  and  a 
useless  survival ;  or  (f)  a\c  may  take  refuge  with  th(^  Itomanist  in 
his  peculiar  pragmatism.  V^e  do  the  Komanist  injustice  when 
sva  call  him  afraid  of  the  tiiitli.  lie  is  not  afraid  of  the  truth;  he 
simply  knows  lie  cannot  use  the  larger  trutli  for  the  cramped  pur- 
poses of  the  hierarchy,  jle  rejoices  in  the  ti'utli — heliind  tiie  door 
of  his  study;  Init  whcni  he  comes  out  to  mediate  between  his  jieople 
and  his  God  he  suppresses  those  phases  of  trutli,  those  implications 
of  eternal  order,  Avhich  seem  likely  to  loosen  his  priestly  hold  or  be 
abused  by  half-grown  souls.  AVe  could  do  that ;  some  are  doing  it 
already.  They  have  not  only  put  their  hands  forth  to  steady  tlie 
ark,  they  have  can-ied  the  avk  home  with  them  in  order  to  keep  it 
safe.  Eut  (3)  tlieie  is  oric  remaining  attitude  for  the  churchman 
to  take.  He  ma}'  remember  that  it  needs  a  bigger  man  to  preacli 
the  gospel  in  its  bigger  -terms.  To  make  men  fed  as  Avell  as 
worsliip-  an  immanent  (Jod;  to  hold  them  to  special  seasoiis  and 
places  because  all  seasons  and  places  arc  holy;  to  make  the  Bible 
grip  them  as  iutei-preting  all  other  books  and  voices  of  God;  to 
show  the  self-suicide  of  sin,  a  ''liviiig  as  if  God  were  dead*';  to 
declare  Him  who  is  "\ery  man"  in  a  sense  in  vrhich  no  man  before 
or  since  was  cvo'  man — aud  tlien  insist  not  only  that  God  is  like 
Jesus  but  that  Jesus  is  the  J'^ii-rnal  Utterance  and  Arms  of  the 
Fatlier — will  be  to  ]->rove  ourselves  "workmen  that  need  not  be 
ashamed"  e\-eu  with  new  tools. 


J  J)  10]  The  Scvcni'h  IJcro  411 


Akt.  VII.— the  SEVEXTII  ITE/EO:  A  SUGGESTION  TO 
SOX^E  XEW  CAELYLE 

The  dcfinilion  of  tlic  hero  liP-s  not  been  a  coiutanl  term.  Tha 
iip.nic  ]ias  contiiiiiod;  the  conception  lias  cbangcd.  CliildlKiod  ha^ 
o:;ic  ideal  of  il,  ministering  to  Vv'lnoh  jnvenilu  literature  sweeps  tlie 
heart  of  childhood  v/ith  a  '>vide  and  fateful  influence,  while  age  has 
yet  another  conception,  differing  from  this  of  earlier  years  as  hlo.s- 
soms  dilfer  from  their  fruits.  So  also  the  childhood  of  the  race 
has  had  its  ideal,  and,  regardless  of  the  unworthiness  of  much  of 
it,  the  literai-y  form  in  which  that  ideal  has  hccn  enshrined  has 
not  been  surpassed  by  all  the  race's  maturing  art,  as  ''Thanatoi>sis'' 
was  never  matched  by  any  poem  Bryant's  age  produced.  A  liltlc 
while  ago  the  hero  was  Achilles,  a  hero  crying  for  a  female  slave, 
and  stayijig  from  the  battle  in  M'hich  his  comitrymen  were  dying. 
Homer  devotes  a  sljcaf  of  imperishable  verses  to  his  tawdry  tears. 
To-dr;y  Achille?,  sulking  in  his  modern  Greece,  vrould  be  court- 
inartinled  and  sliui  by  n^^mbers  of  his  own  regiment.  Then  the 
])oet  of  the  past  sang  Ulysses,  wandering  for  twenty  years  in 
conquests  and  discoveries,  while  Penelope  remains  at  home,  the 
enduring  typo  of  a  pure  v/oman's  constancy,  "a  picture,"  writes 
]jishop  Quayle,  "sAveet  enough  to  hang  on.  the  palace  walls  of  all 
tliese  centuries."  In  this  year  of  grace  Ulysses  would  be  v/riitiii 
not  on  ]>octs'  pages  but  in  police  records,  and  his  wandering  would 
be  called  not  heroism  but  vagrancy.  Such,  however,  were  the 
licroes  then;  and  burning  to\\nis  and  enemies  overcome  by  foul 
nu'aiis  where  fair  were  more  difficult,  and  ravaged  women,  and 
desiruclioii,  and  loot — these  weri;  the  heroisms  in  which  fueli 
hej'ocs  played  an  appropriate  pai't.  As  we  have  grown  ohhr  we 
liave  seen  how  ehoa})  and  misnamed  ihese  particular  ril'abl 
worlliies  were;  but  the  types  of  which  they  have  become  the  ela>sie, 
illustrations  have  stalked  through  hisl<n-y  and  literature  for  cen- 
turies. It  is  because,  for  all  their  bluster  and  sham  and  cliildi-li- 
iie:-s,  those  old  buccaneers,  about  whom  tlie  unbalanced  god>  were 
nii;jl:tily  concerned,  had  in  them  the  stulf  of  which  not  only  the 
race's  eliildhood,  but  its  maturity  as  well,  con.structs  its  ideal  nun: 


412  Melhodhi  Review  [May 

they  fonglit  and  tlicy  v/fiit,  they  gave  hard  blows  aiid  they  took 
long  steps;  {lud  tlie  world  will  love  forever  the  men  who  have  the 
battle  Sjiirit  and  the  courage  to  explore. 

The  ominous  and  sonietiuies  dreadful  heroes  of  the  ^70^st  of 
our  juvenile  literature  are  l)oyhood's  incarnation  of  these  two 
ideals;  and  the  definitions  of  the  h<'ro  v.-lilch  maturity  is  con- 
staiitly  nialcing  and  changing  are  the  expressions,  under  changing 
environments  of  thought,  of  those  saine  permanent  ideals.  Under 
the  unmanly  tears  of  Achilles  and  the  unfaithful  travel-lust  of 
Ulysses  these  twin  spirits  of  warfare  and  wandering  respectively 
constrain  them,  and  in  spite  of  all  thrir  weakness  the  world  con- 
tinually admires  and,  .^omeljow,  groAs's  to  love  them.  This  is  writ- 
ten iu  the  present  teri.-e,  for  Junnanity  has  not  changed  at  heart. 
If  one  will  road  the  lives  of  the  inQW  who  came  to  Virginia  in  1G07 
as  they  are  portrayed  in  even  the  more  generous  narratives,  such 
as  Mrs.  Pryor's  The  Birth  of  the  Xation,  he  will  discover,  with 
two  or  three  singular  exceptions,  a  most  thoroughgoing  company  of 
vagabond?,  men  ^^•ho  ought  to  have  gotten  out  of  decent  society  any- 
where and  "who  ouglit  to  have  been  gotten  out  at  any  cost;  but  over 
them  th-ey  have  a  certain  glamour  of  romance,  and  in  them  a  certain 
something  to  admire  and  love,  because,  for  all  their  unfaltering 
rascality,  they  crossed  an  unfamiliar  sea  and  dared  a  new  adven- 
ture. So  Carl^'le,  remarhing  aeutc^ly  that  history  is  the  shadow^  cast 
by  great  men,  has  galjjcred  together  his  six  heroes,  setting  them 
before  us  as  the  enduring  types  of  all  our  human  stress  and  hope. 
But  while  he  has  swept  all  ranks  and  ministries,  from  gods  to  men 
of  letters,  he  shows  us  in  each  simply  the  man  who  battles  aud  the 
man  who  goes;  in  other  Avords,  the  man  who  does.  Analyzing, 
then,  to  iir.d  behind  their  strokes  and  sti-ides  what  makes  them  go, 
Carlylc  discovers  the  marks  and  sots  the  tests  by  which  to  tell  a 
hero.  First,  says  he,  ''a  deep,  great,  genuine  sincerity,"  which 
needs  no  explanation.  Then  the  hero  "looks  through  th.e  shows  of 
things  into  thingsJ'  This  is  vision.  Again,  though  Carlyle  doc3 
not  use  the  word,  one  can  feel  him  reaching  for  it,  the  hero  grip3 
whatever  god  he  knows,  and  this  is  consecration.  Added  to  these 
three  marks  and  tests  of  the  hero  is  another,  obvious  to  all :  tho 
l>ero  accomplishes  results,     lie  may  not  Ece  them,  and  may  di*- 


1010]  27^6  Seventh  Hero  413 

lx?licve  that  tlicj  rofilly  exist,  but  they  do  surely  show  themselves 
at  last.  The  hero  is  einpov\-erecI.  Sincere,  visioiied,  consecrated, 
empowered — to  show  ns  men  dimensioned  after  this  fashion  Car- 
lyle  has  rifltd  tlie  ages.  His  great  men  are  of  many  centuries  and 
several  hmds:  Odin  ainong  the  northern  snows  and  !Mohaiinned 
from  his  deserts,  and  LnlLer  and  Cromwell  and  Dante  and  Shake- 
speare and  Knox  and  Xapoleo]!,  Johnson  and  Iloussean.  They  are 
a  goodly  company,  but  this  is  worthy  of  remark:  they  arc  not  eon- 
temporaries.  It  is  because  of  this  dislocation  in  the  kinship  of  the 
heroes  that  these  pages  arc  written.  Carlyle's  lectures  are  past 
criticism  in  some  respects,  but  they  are  incomplete.  Tliere  arc  not 
six  heroes  only,  but  seven;  and  the  seventh  is  the  consummation 
of  the  six.    The  seventh  hero  is  the  hero  as  missiomn-y. 

There  is  a  certain  class  of  readers,  happily  growing  fevrer,  to 
v.'hoin  it  may  come  with  a  sense  of  shock  that  tlie  consideraii^'U  of 
epic  heroisms  should  run  to  the  modern  missionary.  There  has 
been  much  belittling  of  liini  m  these  late  days,  as  there  was  nrac\\ 
scoffing  at  hiui  in  his  earlier  endeavors.  V/e  have  heard  all  manner 
of  cruel  and  foolish  charges  laid  against  him.  ^ow,  however,  tliC 
days  hav(!  come  when  back  crf  all  such  accusations  loom  the  im- 
mensities he  has  wrought  in  vrorld-widc  and  individual  life.  But 
the  missionary  picture  as  it  is  bid  before  ns  with  increasing 
Eoverity  of  conscience,  in  its  practical,  businesslike,  even  commer- 
cial elements,  has  omitted  certain  other  features  which  may  ]'>'^r- 
haps  recall  our  neglected  recognition  and  claim  anew  onr  alh'giance 
and  devotion.  The  pathos  of  the  missionary  has  been  overdone: 
the  sentimentality  has  been  cverwroug-lit.  We  have  long  i-ince  put 
by  tlie  weeping  lierald  and  have  swung  too  far  the  other  way. 
Feein'T  in  him  a  religious  agent,  delivering'  certain  religion.-',  cduca- 
tional,  etliieal  returns  n],>on  the  ba^is  of  the  investment  mauc.  it 
is  tin:e  he  was  tested  again,  and  by  the  hero's  tests,  for  it  is  evident 
if  we  are  to  eom.c  to  a  sane  appreciation  of  the  missionary  as  somc- 
llilng  liigher  than  the  eonnnfrcial  agent,  soni'.-thlug  nobl.-r  than  the 
t(>:irful  martyr  v/ho  s\ifl'ers  mm-e  in  aiiticip:iti')r>  tlian  in  re:!'''.ty, 
;he  tests  to  which  he  is  to  bo  put  must  be  the  tests  of  this  eternal 
heroism  which  lives  througli  all  the  centuries.  The  missionary  is 
r.ot  heroic  because  of  nnv  romantic  or  tender  sentiments  which  Irtve 


-1J4  Mcihodist  ncview  [May 

been  woven  around  Lis  cxdJui;.  Xeitlier  liis  if;o]alion  nor  bis  lone- 
liness nor  tiic  sadness  of  f.iiewi-ll  when  lie  embarks  can  make  him 
a  hero.  Is  lie  sincere,  vi.-loncd,  conseer;i1ed,  empowered?  We  ^hall 
discover  ibis  wbere  bLroi>Jii  is  ahvavs  discovered,  in  the  sti'okes  be 
strikes  and  {he  steps  he  takes;  i]i  ullier  words,  in  the  work  he  has 
altenn)ted  and  lias  Avur.  ^\'hot  iirst,  then,  of  the  missionary  as 
divinity?  Yvhat  is  the  inark  of  divinity?  Carlylc's  Odin  never 
had  a  glimpse  of  it,  tlmn^di  (])(.■  Odi)i  of  the  Sagas  gives  some  casual 
and  snjKi'iieial  revehitiuii  of  ii.  It  is  not  force,  nor  any  super- 
natural frenzy  nor  niagi;ir;cd  emotions  of  well-intentioned  men. 
The  mark  of  divinity  is  love,  even  uiUo  death.  Its  great  word  is 
sacrifice;  its  great  aeilviiy  is  search;  its  great  places  are  Gctb- 
scma/jcs;  its  ^:real  symbuls  ajc  a  cross  and  a  sepulcher.  Carlylc 
has  said  tlnU  the  heru  as  divinity  is  a  product  of  old  ages  not  to  be 
re]K''ated  in  tlie  new.  A  ])i-odnct  of  old  ag-es,  truly!  But,  having 
been  once  produced,  it  lias  its  repeated  incarnations.  It  is  the 
missionary's  highe^1  atrribiUc.  He  is  a  searcher  for  the  lost,  a 
sacrifice  iov  tlie  sinful,  a  savior  of  the  world.  One  who  had  caught 
the  missionary  virion  ]n-aycd  in  early  yontli  that  God  would  send 
hiin  tu  tlie  dar]:est  phiee  in  all  the  darl;  obi  earth.  CilniMur  wan- 
ders lonely  among  tb-  ^MCnguls  an.d  Sykes,  among  the  ]\.[atabele 
people,  waiting  tlironpb  weary  years  for  tlie  first  token  of  an 
awakened  soul.  J.  G.  Palon  buries  vnili  his  own  hands  his  wife 
and  baby  on  the  sliores  of  mclaneboly  Tanna,  and  there,  alone, 
works  out  the  wurks  of  Cd.  lleniy  ^'dartyn  lands  in  India  and 
cries,  ''^s'ow  let  me  bui'u  ent  for  God!"'  and  bis  cry  is  ansv/ered 
wlien  the  pitiless  fevei'  kill.-,  bim  on  the  march.  Henry  Drummond 
has  told  us  how  he  found  the  Livi)igstonia  mission  station.  He 
came  into  the  house  of  llie  bead  missionary. 

It  ^vas  spotlessly  clean;  English  furniture  v.^as  in  the  room,  a  medicine 
chest,  familiur-looking  (U.^^hcs  were  in  the  cupboards,  bool»s  lying  about, 
but  there  v,-an  no  missionary  in  it.  I  Avcnt  to  the  next  house — it  was  the 
schnol;  the  benches  wore  there  and  the  bhichboard,  but  there  were  do 
scholars  nnd  no  teachers.  1  ii:u>;cd  to  ihe  next— it  was  the  blachsmlth 
shop;  thcra  wore  the  tools  and  llie  anvil,  but  there  \.'f'S  no  blacksmith. 
And  so  on  to  the  next  and  the  nrxt.  all  in  perfect  order,  and  all  empty. 
Then  a  native  ai)proachcd  and  led  me  a  few  yards  into  the  forest.  And 
tV.cro,  amonr?  the  mimora  tree;'.,  under  a  hur;e  granite  mountain,  were  fcur 
or  livf- graves.     Tlicse  were  Ihe  mi.s.;ionarics. 


JOJO]  The  Sevcnlh  Hero  415 

One  cannot  rorii]  that  storj  but  he  shall  hear  the  Great  I\fis- 
fionarv  and  l]io  Gn:U  Divinity  sayinc:;:  "I  am  the  good  shepherd; 
the  good  thcpho'd  givelh  his  life  for  the  sheep."  Said  a  certaiji 
Indian  ^Mohammedan :  ''1  think  Jesus  Christ  must  liavc  been  a 
\Qr\  wonderful  man.  lie  must  have  been  something  like  IMr. 
Hewlett  of  Benares."  Commerce,  science,  diplomacy  have  laid 
their  hands  upon  the  hands  and  lips  and  heads  of  heathen  men; 
they  liave  not  chang;  d  a  single  heathen  heart  save  for  the  worse. 
They  discipline  but  tli'>y  cannot  disciple;  they  polish  but  they  do 
not  empower;  they  ejtrieh  but  they  do  not  redeem.  The  mission- 
ary, by  the  contagion  of  his  character,  saves  his  people,  becoming 
to  them  the  visible  evidence  of  that  iniinite  goodness  which  is  the 
burden  of  his  gospel. 

Bi'inging  divinity  thus  into  the  levels  of  the  W(»rld  to  which  he 
goes,  the  njissionnry  lieconies  the  hero  as  pi'0})het.  To  interpret 
liunmn  alfairs  i]i  terms  of  the  diviiie;  Jiay,  to  shovv  tliat  all  alTairs 
are  divine  affairs,  all  days  holy  days,  all  deeds  sacred  deeds,  all 
life  heavenly  life;  to  show  these  things  and  to  shape  his  measure 
of  humanity  into  the  e.\])ression  of  them — this  is  the  prophet's 
])ractical  task.  He  has  no  theory  of  development  to  })rove,  no 
experiment  to  make  in  evolutionary  morals.  He  has  a  j^hilosophy 
of  the-  Eternal  and  demands  a  regeneration  of  life.  The  ]"]enc-h 
governor  of  Madagascar  told  the  first  missionary  there  that  ho 
could  never  make  the  blacks  Christians,  for  they  v/ere  brutes.  Tlie 
author  of  one  of  the  most  inspiring  little  books  written,  the  !Mi.s- 
sionary  Interpretation  of  History,  says:  ''The  missionary  wailed 
a  bit,  and  then  pub]i^h(d  his  answer.  Hundreds  of  churches  and 
thousajuls  of  lay  ])reachers  with  their  devout  follower.s  have  long 
since  .  .  .  stilled  the  inhnman  word."  The  East  India  Com- 
pany sent  a  solemn  memorial  to  Parliament  declaring  that  '•'the 
sending  of  Christia)i  missionaries  into  our  Eastern  possessions  i^; 
tlie  maddest,  most  extravagant,  most  expensive  and  most  unwar- 
rantable ]n'oiect  that  was  ever  proposed  by  a  lunatic  fanatic." 
!Nou"  a  modv-rn  missionarv  author,  commenting  on  the  mcnioriak 
write.^  snggestivrly,  ^'To-day  the  Company  is  a  bad  memory,  whik- 
hundreds  of  churches  dot  the  Ganges."  This  transfijrmation  lias 
bf 'ui  wroaght  by  the  most  practical  means,  for  youi-  missionary  is 


416  Mclh.odist  Bcviev)  [Maj 

no  "lunatic  fanatic."  Proi/lirts  are  men  of  commonplaces.  J. 
Kcjuieth  Mackenzie,  a  vomig  medical  inisf^ionary,  was  Summoned 
to  the  sick-room  of  the  wife  of  Li  llnng  Chang.  She  was  enrej  of 
whatever  complaint  it  was  whieii  balllcJ  the  native  physicians,  and 
the  statesman  erected  a  hospital,  put  Dr.  Mackenzie  in  charge,  and 
there  the  first  Chinese  medical  students  were  train.cd.  The  govern- 
ment soon  followed  with  an  organized  system  of  niedical  instruction 
on  a  large  scale.  SouK'timcs  tlic  cjiange  is  wrought  by  homelier 
methods,  for  the  misriiouavy  is  a  humorist  and  can  employ  the 
comedies  of  life.  Dr.  Lindley,  a  missiunary  an^oiig  the  Zulus,  has 
described  the  process.  A  man  barters  at  the  mission  station  some 
small  article  for  a  calico  sliirl,  which  he  immediately  puts  on.  He 
discovers  that  he  cannot  enjoy  In^;  .shirt  l)ecause  his  legs  are  bare. 
The  next  day  he  buys  a  pair  of  cheap  duck  pants.  Xow  he  cannot 
sit  on  the  ground  aiiy  more,  or  ho  y\ull  soil  the  white  duck,  and, 
accordingly,  he  is  at  the  mission  station  bartering  for  a  three- 
legged  stool.  And,  says  Dr.  Lindley,  "when  that  man  gets  that 
calico  shirt  and  those  duck  pants  on,  and  he  sits  on  that  stool  nine 
inches  high,  he  is  about  niiie  thousand  jniles  above  all  the  heathen 
around  him."  This  is  because,  in  that  simple  ju'ocess,  he  has 
traveled  the  stages  of  the  race.  His  shirt  is  the  result  of  an 
awakened  ambition.  Ilie  ti-ouscrs  are  the  product  of  a  r;ew  mod- 
esty. The  stool  is  the  evidence  of  a  new  economy.  The  total  result 
is  independence,  self-respect,  aiid  dignity.  The  man  is  then  ready 
for  the  fuller  and  appro]>riaie  Iransformation  of  the  soul.  Some- 
times the  prophet  foretells.  Among  the  atrocities  of  Old  Calabar 
v/as  the  burial  of  a  living  child  wilh  its  dead  mother,  while  when  a 
chief  died  there  w^as  whoh"";alo  bm-ial  of  living  men  with  him.  To 
one  of  the  first  missiomiries  a  stern  old  chief  said  :  "Do  you  tell  mo 
that  when  I  die  my  sons  are  going  to  put  me  in  an  empty  grave 
alone,  and  nobody  with  me?"  The  jnissionary  look(>d  at  the  war 
canoes  decorated  with  the-  heads  of  ninrdered  rm^n,  and  said,  "Yes." 
The  king's  reply  was  short  and  uneriuivocal.  Said  lie,  "You  are  a 
fool."  Tlien  his  sons  came  u]->,  according  to  Dr.  Pierson,  who  lias 
recorded  the  incident,  and  asked,  "What  is  the  matter  ?"  The  king 
repeated  what  the  missionary  had  said.  Tlieir  answer  was  the 
answer  of  dutiful  sons.     Said  (hey,  "He  is  a  fool  and  a  foreigner. 


KnO]  The  Seventh  Hero  417 

What  docs  be  know?"  But  Ibat  chief  lived  until  tlie  custom  of 
burying  people  alive  was  completolj  abolished.  Fifty  yards  froin 
bis  own  house  a  Obristiau  chapel  \vas  built  and  the  preacher  in  it 
was  one  of  those  same  sons. 

Of  the  missionai-y  as  poet  more  can  be  suggested  than  said. 
If  ]\ratthe\v  Arnold  was  right  in  defining  poetry  as  a  criticism  of 
life,  the  missionary  is  poet  laureate  to  the  universe.  One  can 
hardly  put  on  paper  even  hints  of  what  the  missionary  has  done 
in  this  realm  without  being  accused  of  an  attempt  at  fine  writing. 
]jut  it  would  be  a  wonderful  bit  of  literature  that  would  ad'  qiialely 
delineate  the  transformations  the  missionary  has  wrought  in 
human  life,  transformations  which  can  be  expressed  only  iu  jmetry. 
On  the  one  side  you  would  have  the  ])icture  of  the  weird  and  almost 
meaningless  sounds  of  savage  incantation  changed  to  Chrislian 
hymns;  on  the  oibt.'r  you  wo)ild  have  the  innumerable  cries  of 
heatlien  suffering — by  torture,  by  normal  cruelty  of  heathen  life, 
by  the  hopelessness  of  heathen  theology — changed  to  tlie  joy  and 
quiet  hope  and  the  music  of  Christian  fortitude  and  trust.  Your 
missionary  sees  in  the  jungle  the  grotesque  contortions  of  the 
witches'  frenzy — and  the  dance  of  death  in  King  Solomon's  I\rine.s 
is  no  exaggeration — and  w^eaves  the  passio}iate  rhythm  of  it  ii't'* 
the  gentler  forms  of  penitence  and  praise.  He  hears  by  day  and 
night  the  shouts  of  savage  Avari'iors  in  their  ghastly  dances  whiili 
presage  crime  and  horror — as  witness  the  experiences  of  the  nii-- 
sionarios  among  the  Xgoni — and  tames  their  lips  to  sing  the  song.-^ 
that  Christian  centuries  have  hallowed  in  the  better  Avarfarcs  of 
the  cross.  In  J 850  ':\h'^.  Butler  wnite  that  "India  is  the  land  of 
breaking  hearts."  "We  need  not  have  recalled  to  n-  tlu).>c  old  in- 
numernh](.'  horrors— the  sacrifice  of  children,  the  fnneral  ])yres  on 
which  child  widows  died,  the  dancing  girls  in  temph  s..  creatures  of 
squalid  lust  amid  the  holy  places;  these  were  the  commonest  fea- 
tures of  Indian  life  when  ^NFrs.  Butler  wrote.  India  is  still  tbo 
land  of  breaking  hearts.  The  weeping  is  not  wholly  hushed,  thi; 
little  cbildrru  arc  not  altogether  rescued,  the  womanhood  is  not 
wholly  saved,  but  amid  the  weeping  is  the  sound  of  Christian  voices 
ftinging  h^  mns.  This  is  not  to  be  aninned  of  India  alone.  'J'he 
yrorld  around,  the  missionarv  has  brought  a  liubt  and  music  inio 


418  McLliodlsi  Hcvicw  [Mar 

life.  From  China's  rice  fiekl.-.,  out  of  coolie  lips,  above  tlie  brakes 
where  bu&y  islanders  foj'^'ot  their  former  savagery  in  acts  find  trades 
of  ])eaec,  altove  the  ki-iiiils  of  kaiilrs  Avhcro  the  drums  of  wiir  were 
wont  so  long  to  clamor,  aLo\'e  tlic  .-^hnlUu  of  the  camels'  feet  nj3on 
the  sands  of  the  dc-^eiis,  jilxive  the  whisper  of  the  winds  among  the 
cherries  of  .Ta]>an,  above  the  world  aroniul,  there  rises,  in  many 
tongues  and  tones  bnt  wiili  a  single  meaning,  the  poetry  of  hope. 
It  is  the  achievement  of  the  nn'ssionary,  who,  like  Dan'c,  lias  seen 
hell,  and,  like  Rhakes}H;ii-v^,  h:is  Ijeheld  a  world  of  mci!,  l)ut  who, 
like  no  one  bnt  hiinself,  lias  loolced  as  well  npon  the  face  of  God. 

Of  the  missionary  as  pvI^^l  mneli  inight  be  written  if  it  were 
necessary;  but  hcie  is  the  mi.->ionary  as  wo  have  always  thought 
of  him,  though  our  thought  has  seldom  if  ever  done  him  justice. 
Tie  has  here  his  definite  yet  an  illimitable  task.  He  must  open  the 
gates  of  the  mysteries  to  minds  at  first  unfitted  for  them,  aiid  then 
irreverent  and  most  likely  to  be  inditrercnt.  Where  all  things 
S])enk  of  Cod  and  no  ears  are  0})en  to  lirar  the  rnes-age,  he  must 
bring  home  tlie  voice  of  sea  and  moun.tain.  rock  and  field  and 
flower,  till  each  shall  testify  indubitably  of  the  Infinite  behind. 
So  J\Iackay  of  Formosa  L  d  his  Chinese  boy  up  the  Qrian-yin 
mountain,  arid  frtmi  the  smnmi!,  looking  on  shoi-e  and  sea,  sang 
with  him  tlio  one  hundredth  psalm  liM  to  the  Chinese  boy  it  vras  a 
new  apocalypse.  ]\Iore  iniperaii\e  is  the  missior.ary's  obligation  to 
take  this  Vvorld  not  oijly  into  the  liigher  realms  of  loveliness  and 
culture  but  into  the  la  art  of  personal  spiritual  experience.  We 
have  drifted  into  the  comfortable  feeling  that  raAV  heathenism  is 
over  and  that  v^'o  have  left  only  a  mild  and  gentle  form  of  igno- 
rance. It  ta>kes  a  column  in  the  newspapers  every  once  in  a  while, 
telling  us  of  cannibaliM'i  in  some  .-ea  islaiKl,  or  child  slaughter  in 
the  J'hilij)pines,  to  startle  \is  back  to  the  older  conviction  that  the 
v/orld  is  still  sinful.  "Jdie  mis-ionnry  sees  this  at  first  hand;  to- 
day's news  is  ancient  hi:  lory  to  hinn  lie  is  forced  to  wateh  the 
sacrifices  of  grains  and  foods,  captives  taken  in  war,  sons  and 
daughters  laid  on  fore.-t  .".liars,  and  little  children  lisjiing  up  to 
cruel  priests.  And  somehow,  by  the  passion  of  a  heart  allanie,  bv 
the  eloquence  of  a  mind  on  fiiv',  by  somc^.  subtler  empowerment  he 
accepts  as  from  a  livir.g  Sj.'irit,  he  becomes  a  universal  Job.n,  cry- 


JIUU]  The  Seventh  Jlcro  419 

iiig  rccr.rrcntly,  "Behold  the  Lamb  of  God."  There  can  he  few 
more  iM-^piriiii^^  vi.sioii'^  o])cdient  to  the  suininons  of  the  will  tliau 
that  c>f  iho  sit;lit  \\]iieli  only  ihe  eye  of  God  can  compass,  when  one 
majestic  comijany,  girdling-  the  globe,  bows  low;  tlic  sight  where, 
spealdng  a  hundred  tongues  and  clothed  in  a  hundred  colois, 
among  the  hills  of  continents  and  on  the  shores  of  islands,  in  bar- 
ren deserts  and  splendid  cities,  in  the  shades  of  inland  forests  aiid 
in  the  nubhsl  colleges  of  cultured  men,  se])arated  by  many  oceans 
yet  an  usidividcd  company  of  sjnrit,  the  hosts  of  God  bow  low  at 
a  eomujon  holy  table  and  the  missionary  as  priest  fullllls  his  high- 
est function,  tlic  presentation  to  the  church  militant  of  the  broken 
body  and  shed  blood  of  its  ti-iumphant  Lord. 

The  .missionary  as  man  of  letters  is  the  most  fascinating  of 
the  heroes.  To  see  his  v.'urlv  is  to  be  impressed  with  the  gigantic. 
]le  thinhs  in  continents;  he  writes  in  worlds.  One  of  the  autliors 
of  i]\Q  Ely  vohune  on  Missions  and  Science  states  the  problem 
before  him  thus: 

Thnt  there  was  need  of  their  (the  missionaiicsl  loj'ing  the  foimdatioa 
of  a  luitional  liieralure  araoug  peoples  thai.  ])acl  not  evea  an  alphabet  is 
phiin;  but  the  literature  of  racst  of  the  heathen  nations  that  already  had 
on?  of  their  0'.vn  v.ss  so  full  of  falsehood  in  science,  superstition  in  religion 
and  gross  lininorality  and  filthincss,  that  it  only  created  a  necessity  for  a 
now  literature  free  from  these  fatal  defects. 

'J'o  cri'alc  a  literature  from  alphabet  to  epic,  this  is  the  tash  of  the 
missionary  as  man  of  letters;  aud  well  has  ho  done  his  worh. 
Accurately  developed  languages  are  ihe  heys  to  civilization  a?id 
scievilific  advance;  their  value  cannot  bo  overestimated.  The 
statemer.t  is  not  too  hvovA  v.-liich  j'rofessor  ]\Lackenzie  lias  made, 
that  '*no  one  body  of  men  has  done  so  inuch  to  make  the  wi<lest 
and  most  thorough  study  of  languages  possible  as  the  missionarii'- 
of  the  niiu  teenth  century."  This  is  some  distance  from  the  widely 
ci:rre)it  coneeptio]i,  not  yet  among  the  ar.tiquilies,  that  the  mission- 
ary is  a  jviuus  old  gentleman,  M'ith  a  high  hat  aiid  a  King  Janus 
Libb\  ]):•(  afhing  the  doctrine  of  hell  to  a  handful  of  naked  savages, 
w];o  think  his  Prince  Albert  coat  is  his  natural  skin.  That  is  the 
l)ic1ure  formerly  stereotyped  as  thr  frontispiece  of  missionary 
hl.'igi;)phy  a!i<l  coniimu'd  now  in  comic  joiirnals,  the  most  comicid 


420  Mclhodisl  llcvlcw  [Maj 

feature  of  which  is  their  lack  cif  humor.  The  real  picture  is  of 
Hohert  llorrisoii  Avorl.iug  sixteen  year.s  to  giitlier  a  library  of  ten 
thousand  Chinese  boo];s,  and  at  last  printing  a  dictionary  of  fifty 
thousaiid  Chinese  woi-ds,  and  so  unlocking  the  literature  of  the 
silent  ernjnrc  to  V/eslorn  siudy.  In  ISOO  there  were  fewer  than 
tifty  translations  of  the  Lihle ;  in  1000  there  were  four  hundred 
translations,  and  nine  tenths  of  the  people  of  the  world  had  the 
Eible  printed  in  their  own  language.  What  this  jncaus  may  be 
illustrated  by  the  romance  of  the  Greenland  missionaries.  The 
natives  of  Greenland  were  ignorant  of  their  own  language,  having 
no  wa-iting  and  no  aljilmlK  t.  The  niisnioniu-ies  reduced  the  spoken 
words  to  writing,  devcln]i:  ij  the  gramniai',  translated  the  Bible  and 
some  other  literature,  and  then  taught  the  natives  to  read  their 
own  language.  The  work  of  the  l\everend  Dr.  Hiram  Bingham  in 
reducing  to  writing  the  speech  of  the  Gilbert  Islanders,  translat- 
ing the  Bible  into  it  and  sn]^ci'\  i.-ing  the  printing  of  it,  duririg 
which  he  died,  is  a  romsincc  beside  which  the  deeds  of  a  world  of 
old-time  heroes  is  as  the  play  of  little  children.  ^'When  I  think  of 
what  he  has  done  during  those  fifty  years  in  the  Gilbert  Islands," 
said  Professor  Edward  C.  ]\roore,  oi  Ilarvai'd,  "anything  that  the 
rest  of  us  do  appears  too  small  to  nir-iition.  I  seem  struck  dumb 
in  his  presence."  The  inis^ionnry  as  man  of  letters  has  gone  fur- 
ther. Beginnir.g  witli  ;in  alpliab;  t  he  ends  in  a  university.  The 
Christian  college  SA'Stem  of  India,  th.e  Clu'istian  and  scientific  lit- 
erature in  Arabic — these  are  his  work.  Jn  1S29  there  was  not  a 
school  for  girls  and  not  a  woman  who  could  read  in  all  the  Turkish 
empire.  Forty  years  afliu'  tin'  mis-ionary  schools  liad  been  there 
the  Turkish  government  jn-cmnlgated  school  laws  and  a  general 
scheme  of  education,  and  n<'W  har<lly  a  tovrn  is  without  ils  school 
for  girls.  Mr.  Arthur  11.  Smith,  in  China  and  America  To-day, 
has  written : 

The  real  princiidcs  i]j»on  whi'h  tho  ncv,-  Turkey  nuist  be  built  will  be 
those — and  tlioso  only — v.iiicli  by  Anieric;in  iiiis-sionsrics  ha\o  been  t?.uf:bt 
in  the  citie*^  ani  the  obsfure  mountain  villacros  of  European  and  Asiatic 
Turkey,  and  have  been  burned  into  the  intellectual  and  moral  and  the 
spiritual  consciousness  of  the  Btudonts  of  many  races  in  polyglot  Robert 
Ck>llc'se,  Coustuntlnoplo.  There  is  indeed  to  b(t  a  new  Turkey,  when  all  this 
weary  sced-sowiug  wil!  be  i>orroivfd  not  to  h:ive  been  in  vain. 


JOIO]  The  Seventh  Hero  421 

So;  woi  only  (L rough  liis  finiclions  as  man  of  letter?,  but  by  all 
the  cflicicucii-'S  with  v\]»ich  lio  is  dowtrecl,  by  nil  the  heroisms  he 
incarnates,  the  rnissiona.i'v  grows  before  the  world,  nltiinately  fts 
its  king. 

The  missionary  as  king  will  have  no  contradiction  in  his 
claim  in  our  own  lands.  Whether  or  not  the  Conslitulion  follows 
the  flag,  the  flag  follows  the  iuissionary.  What  influeuccs,  perhaps 
unrecognized  at  flrst,  did  tlie  inissionary  exert  among  the  Indian 
tribes,  what  disciplines  did  priest  and  cliaplain  work  among  the 
troops  of  conquest  to  stay  and  soften  their  otherv/iso  undisciplined 
advance  !  What  patience,  hope,  cheer,  were  carried  to  lonely  jnonecrs 
by  uin-emembcred  circuit  riders,  encouraging  them  to  battle  yet  a 
little  longer  against  tlie  wilderness  !  The  settlement  of  Oregon  will 
not  be  soon  forgotten,  nor  the  presence  of  those  Flathead  Indiana 
whose  appeal  foj*  help  was  answered  1\y  the  presence  of  the  Lec3  in 
the  ^yillamettc  Valley,  nor  even  the  unavailing  ride  of  Dr.  Whit- 
man across  a  continent  of  snow  to  sa\c  that  splendid  territory  to 
our  American  estate.  Beyond  our  own  possessions  and  history 
the  story  is  as  true.  Shortly  after  tljo  most  cruel  of  the  famines 
in  China  in  the  se\'cnties  the  British  consul  at  Tientsin,  Forrest, 
testified  that  more  had  been  done  toward  the  opening  of  China  by 
the  unselfish  charity  of  the  missionaries  during  that  famine  than 
by  a  dozen  wars.  The  martyr  history  in  which  is  recorded  the 
Christian  conquest  of  Uganda  from  ihc  time  of  Stanley's  challenge 
to  Christendom  is  tlie  dramatic  picture  of  the  King  coming  surely 
to  his  throne,  and  he  is  enthroned  thci-e  forever.  In  still  as  direct 
yet  more  political  connection,  the  missionary  is  involved  in  the 
ftdvancc  of  European  nations  in  their  colonial  tasks.  Germany's 
sphere  of  influence  in  Africa  has  been  much  in  public  notice,  but, 
as  Mr.  Spoer  has  vrrincn,  the  first  raising  of  Germany's  flag  over 
African  L<oil  was  above  the  heads  of  Bluunsh  missionaries  in  Xama- 
qualand.  It  is  part  of  the  world's  history  that  only  the  mitsion- 
arics  saved  Uganda  and  Xyassaland  to  the  British  crown;  while 
the  revolution  wrought  in  IMadagascar,  not  only  in  fiersonal  and 
social  morals  but  even  in  national  theory  and  the  practice  of  civil- 
ization, matches  the  marvels  of  the  ^v'ew  Testament.  ]"'robably  no 
more  thoronghgoin.g  special  })leading  has  ever  b.-^en  written  by  an 


42-3  Methodist  licvicw  [May 

aiilbor  compc-tciit  lo  do  otlierwise  tbaii  Professor  Ladd's  lu  Korea 
With  ^ilarquis  Ito,  .supported  n-?  lie  is  by  Dr.  Xoblo,  Ibe  foremost 
lilctbodist  Ej)iscopHl  missionary  there.  ]3ut  Dr.  Noblo's  position 
in  ofTicial  Korea  is  more  sipiificant  than  his  words,  and  attests, 
despite  his  own  criticism  of  tlie  missionaries,  that  yonder,  while 
viceroys  exercise  authority  and  tlio  missionary  is  numbered  by 
unfriendly  critics  among'  the  cau.'-es  of  the  untempered  restless- 
ness, the  missionary  himself,  undefeatecl,  is  toiling  at  the  structure 
of  the  state,  and  back  of  kings'  councils  he  will  yet  bo  determining 
the  fashion  of  principalities  and  powers. 

Here  ends  the  present  pa])er.  I'o  glimpse  even  in  a  fragment 
that  which  many  volunifs  would  but  inadequately  record  is  to  see 
that  here  is  a  hero  v/lio  ha>;  \hv  battle  spirit  and  the  courage  to 
explore,  who  gives  liard  blov/s  and  takes  long  steps;  in  short,  who 
does.  To  see  what  he  has  accomplished  is  to  recognize  his  sincerity, 
vision,  consecration,  and  empowerment.  To  realize  his  task  is  to 
confess  dependence  ujion  his  fidelity.  To  discount  him  is  to  reject 
the  history  of  the  v.-orld. 


1910]  Ixacc  Conflict  42' 


Ai:t  VT].].— JLVCE  COXFJJCT 
Feedkkic  llAinasox,  llir-  Eri(;;lish  pbilosopher,  is  quoted  as 
saying'  that  the  oue  great  shadow  wbieli  clouds  the  future  of  the 
American  republic  is  the  approachiiig  tragedy  of  the  irreconcilable 
conflict  between  the  isegro  and  the  while  man  in  the  development 
of  our  society.  A  similar  statement  is  credited  to  j\Ir.  James 
WvycQ.  In  Zion's  Herald  of  last  June  Dr.  II.  K.  Carroll  pictures 
(ho  situation  as  revealed  in  many  visits  to  the  South,  In  some 
respects  ho  finds  the  change  for  the  better  in  the  attitude  of  the 
white  man  toward  the  ]S\Y<ro  little  short  of  revolutionary.  V,m  in 
politics,  in  society,  or  in  any  business  matter  where  the  Xrgro 
asserts  his  rights  against  a  v/hiie  man,  '"'the  discrimination  against 
the  black  nnin  is  geueral"  throughout  the  whole  South.  Yet  '"states- 
men like  President  Taft  have  come  to  see  that  nothirjg  can  be  done 
in  the  way  of  legislation."  To  an  unexpert  mind  it  might  sorin 
that  legislation,  in  the  shape  of  the  Pourteenth  and  Fifteonih 
AmciKlmciits,  VN-as  v,-aitiug  on  the  executive.  But  the  country 
rccogiiizes  that  the  ''powers  that  be"  have  consented  to  consider 
these  Amendments  temporarily  "out  of  commission."  In  such 
case,  as  Dr.  Carroll  says,  nothing  can  be  done  by  the  federal  gov- 
ernment to  secure  to  him  (the  Xegro)  rights  denied  him.  '"It 
would  appear  that  the  Xegro  must  labor  and  wait,  wait  and  labor, 
while  prejudice  slowly  dies  in  the  dominant  race  and  makes  ju^ler 
treaiment  possible."  ''The  remedy  must  come  through  the  educa- 
tion of  the  conscience  of  the  South  on  the  suliject." 

]-!ul  is  this  prejudice  dying  out?  'Mw  William  Archer,  the 
English  dramatic  critic,  in  a  very  thoughtful  article  in  ]\rcClure\s 
Alagazine  for  July,  1000,  says  that  iiotwithstaiuling  remarkable 
progress  in  education  and  in  material  good  on  the  j'ai-t  of  both 
races,  '"tlie  feeling  between  the  races  is  worse  rather  than  l>etter." 
]*rofessor  .lohn  Spencer  Bassett,  of  Trinity  College,  ^s'orth  Car-- 
lina,  a  Southerner,  says:  "We  are  just  now  entering  the  stage  of 
conflict,  and  this  is  becau.sc  the  Xegro  is  beginning  to  be  strong; 
enough  to  make  o]->positi(>n.  .  .  .  /l.s  Jcnfj  as  one  rare  co}i{'  nds 
for  (he  uhsoluic  infcriorii}/  of  iJic  other,  tlic  stru(j(;h-  will'go  on 


42d  Mcihodht  llcvicw  [Ma/ 

xviih  increasing  \nicmliy."  Tlio  same'  idoa  is  maintained  bj 
Thomas  Dixon,  Jr.,  ]urljn]»s  llie  nio^t  notorious  exponent  of  tho 
extreme  Sontlicrn  vit'W.  lie  disapproves  of  the  v/oj-k  of  Mr. 
Booher  T.  Washington,  l)ceau.se  it  "can  oiily  intensify  tl)G  difticul- 
ties"  of  the  race  ])robhin.  lie  sajs  this  is  due  to  "a  fo\v  Lig  funda- 
mental facts."    Thfse,  in  bi'ief,  are  as  follows: 

No  amount  of  educatioa  can  UKike  a  Negro  a  vvhite  man. 

Amalgamation  the  cix-atcst  cahunily  that  could  posoibiy  befall  tLia 
republic. 

"The  one  thing  a  Soiitlieru  v.hite  man  cannot  cnduro  is  an  educated 
Negro."     (See  his  article  in  tho  Saturday  Kveniug  Post,  Ausu<;t  19,  1905.) 

As  to  amalgamation,  rrof(  ssor  AVilliam  Benjamin  Smith,  of 
Tulane  L'niversity,  Kcw  Orleans,  an  ahJe  Southern  apologist, 
argues  that  it  v;ould  he  "trcn;on  on  the  }'art  of  the  Caucasian  races 
to  their  hii'tliright  and  their  drstiny"  to  tolerate  the  social  equality 
of  the  hlacl:  race,  hccause  social  equality  would  surely  lead  to 
intermixture.  .Mr.  Archer  also  sees  iu  the  sex  question  the  crux  of 
the  prohlcni.  He  insists  that  for  the  two  races  to  live  together  in 
mutual  toler.inec  and  forhc  ai'ance,  but  Avithout  mingling,  is  a  sheer 
impossibility.  He  sees  but  two  po^'silulitics — marriage  between 
the  races  jnight  be  legalized  and  the  color  li)ie  obliterated,  or,  the 
Xcgro  race  might  be  geogTaphically  segregated.  The  former  would 
be  ijitolerable;  the  latter  is,  he  thinh.s,  practicable.  What  the 
future  relations  of  the  two  races  are  to  be  no  one  now  knows.  Some 
things  about  the  ])resent,  hn\vc\er,  arc  reasonably  plain.  It  is  not 
the  formal  or  legal  declaration  of  social  equality  that  leads  to 
miscegenation.  Witness  the  tliird  or  more  of  our  ten  million 
Kegroes  having  admixture  of  white  blood.  (Sec  article  by  ]\[r. 
I^ay  Stannard  Baker  in  the  April  Amoican  Jilaga.-^ine,  190S,  p. 
r)S"2.)  Again,  the  idea  of  segregation  or  de})ortation  is  wholly 
visionary.  We  cannot  dej^ort  the  i\(grocs  to  Africa  or  anywhere 
else.  No  more  can  we  stay  their  advaii.-e  in  education  and  civiliza- 
tion. It  rejnains  to  consider  how  to  rcjnove  some  hindrances  in  the 
way  of  their  progTcss. 

One  thing  needed  is  a  clear  view  of  the  real  nature  of  the  race 
problem.  Mr.  Quincy  Ev;ing  gives  such  a  view  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly  for  March,  JUO'.'.     He  show.s  conclusively  that  the  IS^egro 


jDiO]  l\acc  Conflict  425 

ii<  not  a  ]irolil(.'ni  bccaupc  of  liis  laziness,  or  ignorance,  or  brutality, 
or  (,'i  iniinaliiy,  or  all-voinid  iiil'^Uretual  and  moral  inferiority  to 
tlu"  v.-]iite  niai;.    ^V]lal,  then,  i.-^  the  lioart  of  \\u\  race  problem? 

The  foiuidallon  of  it,  true  or  fal.se,  is  the  white  man's  conviction  that 
tlio  Negro  iis  a,  race  and  as  an  inuividual  is  his  inferior,  not  human  in  the 
Kcnsc  that  he  is  luinian,  net  entitled  to  the  exercise  of  human  rights  in  the 
Kcnte  lluit  he  is  entitled  to  them.  The  problem  itself,  the  Cosence  of  it,  the 
licart  of  it  is  the  white  man's  determination  to  make  good  this  conviction, 
coupled  with  constant  anxiety  lest  by  some  means  he  fchould  fail  to  make 
it  good.  .  .  .  The  race  problem  is  the  problem  how  to  keep  the  Xcgro 
in  focus  with  the  traditional  sta.udpoint. 

Mr.  Ewing  covers  here  in  siib-T^tance  the  whole  case 
against  the  JS'egro  as  presented  by  ]\Ir.  TJixon,  whu?c  a.ssumption 
of  an  impa.ssable  gulf  of  progress  separating  the  races  is  mere 
rhetorical  flonri?h,  ^Yhy  go  bade  four  thousand  years  to  learn 
wh'vther  {\\v  jScgro  contributes  to  human  progress?  In  the  Chri.s- 
tian  ^V^>rk  and  Ji^vangelist  for  January  8,  15,  1:2,  there  is  an  article 
by  ^Ir.  Andrew  Carnegie  on  ''Tlie  Xegro  in  America,"  of  which  the 
editors  have  this  to  say:  "It  is  a  masterly  presentation  of  the 
(subject,  and  proves  its  conlcniion  conclusively,  that  no  other  race 
has  ever  rnnde  so  great  progress  in  fifty  years  as  has  the  Kegro 
race."  But  ~Mr.  Dixon'really  disbelieves  his  own  appeal  to  history, 
as  he  elsevrhere  alloAvs  the  Xcgro's  capacity  for  advancement.  He 
even  pleads  that  the  Xcgro  ''should  have — what  ho  never  has  had  in 
America — the  opporturiity  for  the  highest,  noldest,  and  freest  de- 
velc)]>ment  of  his  full,  rounded  manliood."  2\ot  in  the  while  mans 
cniudni,  however,  but  in  Africa!  ]\[r.  Dixon's  conduct  of  his 
ca -f,  though  brilliant,  \n  a  vray,  is  vitiated  throughout  by  his  as- 
sum])tions.  His  deep-seated  ]>rejudice  forbids  the  appreciation  of 
the  educated  Christian  Xcgro  for  what  ho  is.  He  will  have  him 
judgf-d  by  the  savage  of  centuries  ])ast.    Here  arc  his  words: 

lOducalicn  is  a  good  tiling,  but  it  never  did  and  never  will  alter  the 
Cr^ential  character  of  any  man  or  race  of  men  ,  .  .  Behold  the  man 
^hnm  the  r:ig.s  of  slavery  onco  concealed— nine  millions  strong!  This 
creaiuro,  with  a  racial  record  of  four  thousand  years  of  incapacity,  half 
cl.ild,  half  animal,  tlic  si.orl  of  impulse,  whim,  and  conceit,  "pleased  with 
H  rattle,  tickled  v.ith  a  straw,"  a  being  who,  left  to  his  will,  roams  at  night 
nn!  Kleops  In  the  day,  whose  native  tongue  ha.s  framed  no  word  of  love. 
V. 'u-:r;>  pa.-<:-ionp  once  arou.sed  are  as  the  tiger's     .     .     .    -wlicn  he  i.v  dUi- 


420  Afelhodist  neiiew  [May 

cated,  and  ceases  io  fill  his  useful  sphere  os  servant  and  peasant,  what  are 
you  going  to  do  with  him? 

Four  iiiillions  of  such  crealiircs  in  the  South  before  the  war,  yet 
My.  Dixon  presumes  to  say  the  Civil  War  created  the  Xegro  prol>- 
1cm!  IiiUIkt,  let  us  say,  tlie  war  uncuccred  the  problem!  Tho 
mightiest  of  evils  r:ro\virp,  steadily  under  slavery,  yet  all  unsus- 
pected until,  the  fal)ric  of  slavciy  iorn  av.-ay,  to  the  generation  later 
the  harm  wrought  on  botli  races  begins  to  appear. 

The  fact  is,  the  South  is  sullV'ving  from  two  race* problems, 
and  not  one  only.  Tln^  fir^t  we  may  call  the  real  aSTegro  problem. 
A  white  man's  biirdc  u  indeed  it  is  so  to  administer  for  her  diverse 
peoples  as  to  do  no  injustice  to  white  or  black,  whil*"^  helping  one 
race  out  of  the  degradation  of  centuries.  And  were  it  not  for  the 
other  problem  which  divi(K:s  the  people,  what  joy  to  men  and  angels 
to  see  tliis  American  natiou  setting  heart  and  brain  to  a  task 
worthy  her  splciidid  })owcrs — ''such  a  task  as  never  confronted 
man  in  all  his  rccoi'dcd  history."  The  other  probkni  we  will  have 
to  call  the  white-race  probh-ui.  Such  ''problem  arises  only  v»-hen 
the  people  of  one  race  are  mir.ded  to  adopt  and  act  upon  some 
policy  more  or  less  o].'p]'e?sive  or  repressive  in  dealing  with  the 
people  of  another  race."  Tills  has  for  its  objective  solely  the  inter- 
ests of  tho  white  ]-ace,  for  whose  sake  the  iiiterests  of  the  XcgTO 
must  be  sacrificed.  This  traditional  jirobleni  concerns  itself  with 
holding  the  Xegro  down,  vdiilc  the  real  problem  has  t<>  do  v.-ith  the 
perplexities  of  saving  tlu'  Xcgro  from  his  past  and  lifting  him  up. 
While  a  multitude  of  recent  writers  agree  in  portraying  as  above 
the  prevailing  Southern  sentiment,  only  one,  Ray  Stannard  Baker, 
in  The  American  ]\ra;'azinc,  August,  IDOS,  does  justice  to  the  new 
South  on  Xegro  education.  He  sees  in  the  "Ogden  ]\[ovement" 
and  tli'^  ''Southern  1-MiU'ntional  Association"  evidences  of  a  dis- 
tinct change  of  view  coming  to  pov;er  among  Southern  leaders. 
These  people  declare  their  belief  that,  "whatever  the  ultimate  solu- 
tion of  this  grievous  problem  may  be,  education  must  be  an  im- 
portant far'tor  in  that  solution."  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  a 
growing  sym])athy  in  tlie  Xoith  Y,Ith  the  Southern  white  man's 
burden,  rresident  'J'aft  and  his  three  predecesscjrs  in  office  have 
shown  such  sympa.thy.     Xuilhern  sentiment   is  so  far  with  the 


3  010]  .  Piacc  Conflict  427 

South  ns  to  forbid  any  clash,  lliough  State  ]cg-islation  ovcmd-'S  tlie 
Constituliou.  Governor  Vnrdanian,  of  ^Mississippi,  lOO-i,  glories 
in  the  fact  that  his  State  nullifies  the  Fifteenth  Amendment: 

And  inslcad  of  going  to  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  and  saying 
there  is  no  distinction  made  in  Mississippi  bcciuise  of  color  or  previous 
condition  of  servitude,  tell  the  truth  and  saj-  this:  'AVe  tried  for  raanj' 
years  to  live  in  Mississippi,  and  share  sovereignty  and  dominion  v/ith  the 
Negro,  and  wc  saw  our  institutions  crumbling.  .  .  .  We  rose  in  the 
majesty  and  highest  type  of  Angio-Sa>:on  manhood,  and  took  the  reins  of 
government  out  of  the  hands  of  tlie  carpetbagger  and  the  Negro,  and.  so 
help  us  God,  from  no^Y  on  we  will  never  share  any  sovereignty  or  dominion 
with  him  again." 

Perhaps  our  acquiescence  with  prescnt-d:iy  Southci-n  "opportun- 
ism" may  be  due  more  to  genuine  sympathy  with  the  underlying 
assumptions  than  we  like  to  acknovdedge.  What  means  the  com- 
placent reference,  in  speeches,  editorials,  even  in  sermon?  and  the 
utterances  of  church  hoards,  to  the  "dominant  races"?  Vriiy  llic 
constant,  subtle  assumption  of  essential  race  superiority — the  as- 
surance tliat  the  final  worldng  out  of  human  history  is  committed 
to  his  hands?  A  ^lemorial  Day  sermon  in  a  Lo?ton  paj^er  quolcs 
coiicerning  the  battle  of  ]\Ianila  Bay:  "It  was  the  most  important, 
historical  event  since  Charles  ^Martcl  turned  back  the  ^Moslems, 
A.  I).  732,  because  the  great  question  of  the  twentieth  century  is 
v.hether  the  Anglo-Saxon  or  tlie  Slav  is  to  impress  its  civilization 
on  the  world.'"  The  Anglo-Saxon,  gTO^Am  proud  from  long  eou- 
tinued  possession  of  certain  favors  of  heaven,  regards  him -ell"  as 
the  most  notable  illustration  of  the  "survival  of  the  fittest."  TIk  re 
is,  in  his  opinion,  only  one  race  capable  of  world  leadership.  "'J'he 
Anglo-Saxon  is  the  dominant  race  of  the  v/orld  and  is  to  lie."  It 
can  do  no  harm,  however,  to  note  certain  signs  of  the  times  wbich 
.'^er^nj  to  read  us  a  more  wholesome  lesson.  Fnder  the  cajil  if'U,  "'ilie 
Coming  of  the  Slav,"  The  Literary  Digest  says : 

The  tremendous  potency  and  still  more  tremendous  possibilities  of  the 
Slavonian  element  in  European  nationalities  have  been  recently  brou;:^ht  to 
the  world's  notice  by  tlie  revolt  of  Ferdinand  of  Ihilgaria  and  the  mutter- 
ings  of  Servia  and  of  Montenegro,  behind  all  three  of  which  stands  the  vast 
fmpirc  of  Russia.  "The  Slavs  are  beginning  to  feel  their  strength  and  to 
ar^ert  theni-sGlves,"  declares  Mr.  \V.  T.  SUead  in  the  Contcmiiorary  Review 
(I^Edon).     In  hi3  opinion  the  Slavic  race  is  really  one  of  the  mojl  for- 


42S  Mvfhodist  Preview  [Maj 

midablo  factors  In  European  i)olilic!i.  He  tells  lis:  "Of  all  the  great  races 
of  Europe  the  Slavs  have  recpived  the  fewest  favors  ivom  the  fates.  Provi- 
denco  has  been  to  them  a  cruel  stepmother.  They  have  been  cradled  ia 
adversity  and  reared  in  the  midst  of  misfortunes,  which  inight  well  havo 
broken  their  spirit.  From  century  to  century  they  have  been  the  prey  of 
conquerors,  European  and  Asiatic.  But  all  this  Is  changing,  and  for  the 
Slav  the  light  is  rising  in  the  darkness."  Mr.  Stead  prophesies  that,  after 
passing  through  tlio  stern  ordeal  of  amictiou,  they  ^vill  assert  theiiii;elvcE, 
will  lay  aside  their  tiudcncy  to  anarchy,  "and  the  future  is  theirs."  He 
prophesies  a  vast  stretch  of  free  self-governing  States  from  Petersburg 
to  Prague,  and  from  Prague  to  Adrianople,  ...  in  which  the  Slavs,  by  th« 
sheer  force  of  numbers,  will  of  necessity  be  in  the  ascendant. 

There  is  but  one  voice  to-cl;iy  from  those  coinpetent  to  speak 
of  the  Chinese.  'J'liey  arc  an  intellectual  race,  capable  of  un- 
limited development,  both  mental  and  spiritual.  A  Cono^-egalion- 
alist  Year  Book  calls  the  Chinaman  "the  Anglo-Sa.xon  of  the  East." 
Thp  Boxer  licbcllion  re\eal(<l  (Ik-  utter  devotion  to  Christ  of  v.diich 
vhej  are  ca])ab]e.  ^A'hat  heights  of  ethical  character  they  niaj 
later  reveal  no  one  can  )jow  say.  A  type  of  Christianity  seem? 
likely  to  ai-ise  among  them  not  only  better  suited  to  their  need*; 
than  any  Wcsterji  Xyyo,  but  also  competent  to  throw  new  light  on 
the  higher  ethical  ]u-ol)lems  of  mankind.  '"Christian  unity  stands 
a  better  chance  of  a.dequate  expression  in  China  than  in  America,'' 
declared  a  missionary  at  Xorlhfield  last  sunnner.  It  is  not  un- 
believalile  th.at  in  tlie  ))resent  century  China  may  furnish  the  world 
some  of  its  greausl  religions  teachers. 

Again  consider  how  God  is  sending  world  problems  to  our 
shores,  trying  if  we  be  v.-orthy  of  our  centuries  of  light  and  privi- 
lege. Where,  if  not  in  Christian  America,  ought  the  world-old 
struggle  between  ca})italists  an<l  wage-workers  to  find  au  end? 
''More  than  one  elhe.ologisl  fears  that  the  darker  races  are  getting 
together  and  preparing  for  a  death-grapple  v.-ith  those  who  have 
too  long  oppressed  them."  But  God  is  sending  this  race  problem 
to  us.  vVnd  it  is  ours  to  show  how  Christ's  teaching  solves  it.  Our 
Christian  i:eal  and  wisdom  are  called  for,  not  les.oi  at  The  Hague, 
but  more  at  the  centers  of  conflict  in  Xew  York  and  Chicago,  in 
Philadelphia  and  Saint  Loui.>^,  iu  Pittsburg  and  J^oston,  in  Wall 
Street  and  the  halls  of  Congress.  Then  the  i)roblcni  of  crime  and 
]i;innerisiii,  on  tlie  one  hand,  and  the  corruption  of  the  rich  and 


19 10]  Jlace  Conflict  429 

powerful  on  tho  other  Land,  are  pressing  for  solulion.  The  Social- 
ist pays,  '"'If  the  work  peo])lc  were  as  willing  to  do  illegal  and 
violent  things  to  get  wealth  as  the  rich  people  do,  this  would  be  a 
fearful  world  to  live  in."  Josiah  Strong  says,  "Evidently,  un- 
less Avc  Americanize  the  foreigners  in  our  cities,  immigration 
will  foreignizc  our  civilization."  Of  necessity  we  are  Americaniz- 
ing them,  and  are  in  turn  being  foreignizcd.  ]3ut  are  we  certain 
that  the  American  factor  makes  for  the  elevation  of  society  ?  The 
great  question  is  not  v^'hether  the  Anglo-Saxon  or  the  Slav  is  to 
impress  his  civilization  on  the  vs'orld,  for  no  such  one-sided  M-ork 
is  possible.  The  gi-eat  question  is  whethi?r  the  Anglo-Saxon  aiul 
Slav  and  all  races  shall  cooperate  in  a  brotherhood  of  njan  to 
establish  justice  in  the  earth  and  to  pi-oraote  the  general  v.-elfai'c 
of  mankind.     President  Charles  Cuthbcrt  Hall  says: 

It  Is  a  tremendous  -thongbt  that  with  the  growth  of  the  democratic 
spirit  in  the  twentieth  century,  which  is  the  growth  of  the  right  valuation 
of  personaiity— Individual  personality  and  national  personality — there 
may  bo  at  hand  a  rediscovery  of  the  mission  of  Christianity  to  the  world 
which  v.'ould  mean  a  return  to  the  cosmopolitanism  of  Jesus  Christ.  (Ad- 
dress before  the  Religious  Education  Association,  1905.) 

Such  a  program  will  call  a  halt  to  many  a  scheme  dear  to  the  heart 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon.    The  Boston  Herald  says : 

Perhaps  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  Is  its  aggrcs-- 
sive,  domineering  character.  Wherever  it  has  gone  it  has  made  its  mark 
by  its  forceful  and  often  brutal  energy.  When  brought  in  contact— and 
this  has  been  frequently  the  case — with  a  people  whom  they  have 
looked  upon  as  less  developed  than  themselves,  the  Anglo-Saxons  have 
Invariably  overridden  whatever  political  rights  the  latter  might  have 
l>osse:>.-cd.  and  in  practically  all  cases  they  have  justified  tbemfelves 
on  the  ground  that  they  were  doing  this  for  the  benefit  of  those  whose 
wishes  and  customs  they  have  rudely  set  aside.  A  large  number  of  illumi- 
nating illustrations  of  this  could  he  given  from  the  history  of  England 
aiid  the  hi.story  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  in  America. 

As  to  our  own  work  abroad  there  is  difference  of  opinion; 
many  competent  judges  give  us  an  unenviable  reputation.  But  on 
many  fcajures  of  our  home  civilization  there  is  sul)stantlal  agrci- 
m-iit.  To  v.liich  of  our  great  cities  can  the  citizen  point  with  pride 
and  say,  "Tliis  is  what  America  stands  for  in  civilization  I  P.ehohl 
llie  highest  reach  of  the  wealth  and  culture  and  citizenshiji  of  the 


430 


Methodist  ficvicw 


n\Iay 


Anglo-Saxon"  ?  0),ly  tLc  other  diiy  Govornor  Glenn,  of  Xoitli 
Carolina,  salJ,  'The  nrc-al  cities  of  the  land  arc  snapping  their 
fingers  in  the  face  of  the  Ahniohi y/'  Wliat  the  Anglo-Saxon  needs 
is  not  a  farther  inP.ation  of  Jiis  pride  and  vainglory,  but— in  tlie 
light  of  his  history— he  needs  au  infusion  of  true  humility.  Eacc 
pride,  conceit,  arrogance,  presumption,  are  not  the  Inidges  of  man's 
worth  and  true  dignity;  they  constitute,  rather,  a  good  part  of  tho 
problem  of  the  ^\-orld.  This  is  tlie  heart  of  the  race  problem  in  our 
Soutldajid.  TJiis  is  the  cause  of  that  intolerable  burden,  the  "armed 
camp"  called  Europe.  This  it  is  which  is  now  blocking  the  way  of 
that  next  great  step  in  the  civilization  of  humanity,  nan-iely,'the 
federation  of  the  nations  in  a  brotherhood  of  2nan.  Patriotism  too 
often  signifies  only  that  despicalde  sentiment,  "Idy  country,  right 
or  wrong.'-  How  invich  greater  the  thought  of  Christopher  Gads- 
den in  the  ili'st  Conliuemal  Congress,  as  he  exclaimed,  "Let  none 
of  ns  be  any  longer  in  the  fir^t  place  a  Xew  England  man,  a  >^"ew 
Yorker,  a  Mrginian,  but  all  of  ns  xVmericans."  It  is  something 
to  know  that  the  interests  of  the  nation  are  above  those  of  the 
State.  Likewise,  the  thiest  spirits  of  the  age  recogrJze  that  world 
interests  outrank  those  of  State  and  nation.  In  Zion's  Herald  of 
August  4  a])pears  the  sentiment,  "the  banner  of  the  cross  being  the 
oidy  one  that  should  ever  float  in  our  seas  above  the  Stars  and 
Stripes."  Only  let  the  nations  who  say  this  really  mean  it,  and 
wo  have  one  and  the  same  flag  above  those  of  the  natioiis ;  race 
interests  become  subservient  to  liuman  interests,  and  the  most 
enlightened  politics  p]-evail.  Xo  longer  will  nation  jealously  strive 
against  nation — Germany  against  France,  Europe  against  China, 
America  against  Europe,  and  each  against  all — but  we  become 
citii:ens  of  one  great  kingdom  and  Christ  is  Lord  over  all. 


1910]  Ilcic  I  Found  Stanley  431 


Akt.  IX.— HOW  I  rOUXD  STANLF.Y 

The  rccc7it  rciidi))^-;  of  iho  Life  of  Henry  M.  Stanley  Lrougbt 
to  mind  a  pliijiiiig  c.xjx-ricnco  in  London  in  the  middle  of  the  sum- 
mer of  IS'.'O,  \vl]en  a  liiijtpy  cliaiicc  enabled  me  to  hoar  tbe  famous 
cxjdoror  till  of  Ids  mr-eling-  Alexander  Mackay,  tlic  Scotch  mis- 
sionary, of  his  own  faith  in  God,  and  his  confidence  that  Jesus 
Christ  would  win  out  in  Africa.  It  was  a  brigjit  hour  in  my  life, 
and  it  happened  on  this  wise. 

I  was  sitting  at  a  small  table  in  a  modest  restaurant  near 
Ludgate  Circus  after  a  visit  to  Saint  Paul's  Church.  The  hour 
was  near  one  o'clock.  An  unusual  quiet  seemed  to  have  srtth'd 
dowji  upon  the  otherwise  roaring  street.  While  waiting  for  my 
order  a  clergyman  took  a  seat  at  the  same  table.  He  was  evidently 
dressed  with  more  than  ordinary  care,  as  if  to  be  prepared  for  a 
special  j-cceplion.  Like  a  thoroughgoing  Englishman,  he  sat 
silent,  and  there  would  have  been  no  conversation  had  I  not  begun 
V.  itli  n  question,  which  was  olTered  in  the  nature  of  a  bait,  about  an 
old  building  hard  ly  on  which  I  had  noticed  a  Latin  verse,  and  I 
asked  him  why  it  was  so  peculiarly  appropriate.  lie  bit,  and  to 
my  surprise,  and  delight  as  well,  entered  into  a  rather  animated 
conversation.  lie  filled  my  ideal  of  an  Oxford  scholar — ])0S5iblY 
stroke-oar — athletic,  clean-limbed,  high-minded,  and  ad'able  when 
once  he  had  yielded  his  confidence.  It  was  not  difficult  to  im- 
agine him  on  the  Tsls,  like  "Jim  llannington''  of  Brasenose,  "row- 
ii'.g  liis  heart  out"  ratlu  r  tlian  be  beaten  by  a  rival  college.  The 
next  ten  minutes  were  a  time  of  refined  pleasure.  Just  before 
lie  ro?e  to  leave  he  said  in  a  brightly  eager  way,  "I  am  about  to 
attend  a  rece])tion  to  be  given  to  Mr.  Stanley  in  the  rooms  of  the 
Church  ^fisiiojiary  Society.  I  wish  you  might  be  with  me 
Ihere/' 

I  assured  him  \hat  no  pleasure  could  be  fmer,  then  asked  him 
v.lmt  the  rxjilorer  was  to  s}>eak  about. 

''(),  he  is  to  tell  us  of  his  observations  upon  the  work  of  'Mr. 
Vr.\v]::\y  in  the  Uganda  Country,  with  whom  h<;  stojtped,  you  know, 
((>Y  three  weeks  as  he  wei\t  down  toward  Zan/.ibar." 


432  Mdhodist  Ixevicw       "  [^^J 

''Is  the  iiiceliiig  open  to  llie  public?''  I  a?kcd  hiin.  with  eager- 
ness. 

"Iso,  I  am  sorry  to  saj  that  everyone  must  have  a  card  of  in- 
vitation," was  his  discouraging  reply.  "The  place  is  near  here; 
just  through  yonder  archway  across  the  street/'  and  with  that  he 
bade  me  good  day. 

Tlic  one  real  grief  after  twenty  years  is  that  I  did  not  get 
the  name  of  my  friend  of  a  bright  quarter  of  an  hour,  that  later 
on  I  might  liave  had  opportunity  to  thaidc  him  for  wliat  followed. 

Shortly  after  lie  left  me  I  strolled  out  and  went  across  the 
street  and  through  the  aichway,  and  found  myself  in  a  paved 
court,  or  square,  opposite  to  mo  being  a  hotel,  and  to  my  right  a 
long  sign  stretchiiig  across  a  half  dozen  windows:  "Church  ]\Iis- 
sionary  Society."  Yes,  there  it  was,  the  headquarters  of  the 
missionary  life  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  doubtless  some- 
where np  in  those  rooms  inspiring  memories  of  the  great  file- 
leaders  of  foreign  evangelism — Sehvyn,  Pattisoii,  ITanniugton, 
and,  above  all,  David  Livingstone.  Was  it  to  be  that  I,  who  had 
been  bi'ought  uj-*  on  Livingstone,  from  the  day  he  left  Blantyre  to 
the  day  he  was  laid  reveroitly  in  the  main  aisle  of  Westminster 
'Abbey,  could  not  even  have  a  peep  into  the  quarters  where  Stanley 
was  to  tell  of  Livingstone's  successor  ?  If  so,  there  was  nothing  to 
do  but  to  submit  to  the  inevitable.  Just  then  I  saw  two  fine  old 
English  "thoroughbred.^,"  doubtless  from  the  Isis  or  the  Cam, 
hurrying  down  from  the  steps  of  the  hotel  and  making  for  the 
door  of  the  Society  licadquarters.  A  lone  clerk  stood  at  the  desk 
as  I  walked  into  the  oniec  of  the  hotel.  In  answer  to  my  rather 
aimless  question,  "Where  is  Mr.  Stanley  to  speak  to-day?"  he 
spoke  quickly:  "Just  follow  those  gentlemen  yonder;  they  are  on 
their  way  up  to  the  room."  Xow  there  was  hope,  a  trifle,  and  I 
determined  to  go  as  far  as  this  would  take  me.  With  no  small 
haste  I  made  after  the  two  "thoroughbreds"  and  walked  modestly 
behind  them  as  they  mounted  to  the  .'^econd  floor  of  the  building. 
In  the  long  hall  they  were  met  by  a  rotund  card-taker,  who  bowed 
as  the}''  handed  him  their  ticlcets  of  admission.  Then,  looking  up, 
he  gave  me  a  stiff  glance  with  the  words,  "Card,  sir!"  I  saw 
only  ix'treat  in  his  eye.     AboN'e  me  on  the  landing  and  leanijig 


J 9 10]  ^iow  I  Found  Stanley  433 

over  Uie  railing  v/cro  clerks,  and  tboy  M-erc  dropping  down  tbc 
tantalizing  words,  "He's  begun  liis  spcccb !"  Retreat  ?  Xot  unless 
Ibere  was  no  wav  forward.  Yet  my  salt-and-pepper  suit  was  not 
commending  me  to  tbe  man  holding  out  bis  band  for  a  ticket. 
That  was  c^vidci.l.  It  would  not  bo  out  of  tbe  way  to  state  my 
case,  so  I  said:  '"i  know  I  bavc  no  rigbt  to  be  bore  to-day,  but  as 
I  am  an  American,  and  claim  :^^r.  Stanley  as  a  fellow  citizen,  it 
will  be  enough  if  I  can  merely  look  through  tbe  open  door  and  see 
him  for  a  bit.     I  was  told  to  follow  the  two  gentlemen  who  have 

just  entered." 

''Well,  now,  this  is  quite  nnfortunate.  AVe  admit  only  by 
card  to-day,  yon  know,"  said  be.  'Tcrbaps— if  you  bad  a  card, 
you  know — simply  for  identification." 

Now  for  it,  for  good  fortune  was  pushing  mc  on,  as  tbr-  day 
before  T  bad  visited  our  American  ambassador,  'Mr.  Robert  Lin- 
coln, and  liad  been  presented  with  several  of  the  engraved  embassy 
card\— ''Tbev  raav  be  of  some  use  to  you,"  was  said.     Out  came 
mv  fountain  pen,"  and  while  my  friend  taking  cards  watched  me 
with  considerable  interest  I  wrote  my  name  above  that  of  our  dis- 
tinguished ambassador.     The  result  as  I  banded  it  to  him  was 
tremendous  and  immediate:  "Eminently  satisfactory,  sir.     Ju^t 
walk  this  wav,"  and  approaching  a  dozen  men,  filling  up  the  do..r 
of  the  room"  in  which  ]\rr.   Stnydey  was  addressing  a  crowd  of 
leaders  of  the  mission  work  of  the  Church  of  England,  my  friend 
said  with  some  emphasis,  '^Gentlemen,  please  stand  aside  and  lor 
this  gentleman  in!"     And  now  here  am  I,  who  ten  minutes  ag-- 
was  sitting  at  a  restaurant  table  across  the  street,  in  tbe  midst  of 
bishops,  canons,  and  other  master  spirits  of  tbc  English  Church, 
and  tbore,   not  forty  feet  in  front  of  me,   is  Stanley,  his  face 
tanned  by  the  hot  sun  of  the  equator,  his  hair  prematurely  white, 
bis  large  eyes  full  of  au  intense  light,  just  back  from  Africa  four 
davs,  telling  of  bis  descent  into  tbe  equatorial  plains  after  skirimg 
:^^ount  Ruwenzori.     In  the  Ankoll  region  he  first  found  evidences 
of  tbc  work  of  the  wonderful  Scotcbmau  wliom  be  stylcl^   'the 
greatest  mi^slonarv  I  ever  met,  next  to  '^h^.  Livingstone."     As 
tb.'v  dr.  w  near  to'  tbe  western  side  of  tbe  great  lake  named  for 
Queen  N'ictoria  they  suitered  annoyance  from  the  pelty  thieving 


434  Mcthodid  llcview  [May 

of  some  unknown  ]i:uigt-rs-on  upon  the  line  of  march.  Several 
evenings  llic-y  h:id  licarJ  the  sound  of  singing  near  by,  and  \vliat 
seemed  to  be  prayers. 

After  we  reached  the  plateau  the  Waganda  carae  in.  They  v/ere  a 
nice,  cleanly  dressed,  sobpr,  and  indepcudcut  people.  They  had  been  on 
our  path,  and  had  found  on  the  road  one  of  our  haversacks  filled  with 
ammunition,  powder,  and  percussion  caps.  They  brought  it  up  to  me, 
and  said  \vlio  they  were.  They  were  Samuel  and  Zachariah,  of  the 
Protestant  Mission  of  Uganda.  And  thoy  laid  the  bag  at  my  feet,  and 
when  1  examined  it  I  found  it  contained  ammunition — property  which  is 
very  valuable  th^re.  Y.'cll,  now  I  had  it  by  my  chair,  and  while  I  Avas  in 
conversation  a  Mussulman  slipi)ed  his  fingers  there  and  snatched  it  av.-ay, 
and  I  never  saw  it  more.  T!:ai  Mussulman  belonged  to  my  force,  and  I 
was  so  ashamed  of  it  that  I  did  not  mention  to  the  visitors  what  had 
become  of  it. 

So  be  ]:ncw  that  t]ic?e  men  from  Uganda  vrcre  not  thieves. 
Mr.  Stanley  went  on  to  tell  of  a  visit  of  these  two  men  after  dark 
to  hi.s  tent  and  of  their  r>  cital  of  the  growth  of  the  mission.  They 
made  other  visits  in  the  days  following. 

It  was  most  graphic,  nmst  beautiful.  .  .  .  Now  I  noticed  that  as  soon 
as  they  left  my  presence  they  went  to  their  own  little  huts  and  took  out 
little  books  which  they  had  in  their  pockets  in  their  skirts.  And  one  day 
I  called  S:unuel  to  me  and  asked:  "What  book  is  that  that  you  have?  I 
did  not  know  that  the  Waganda  read  bocks."  And  that  was  the  first  time 
that  I  knew  that  they  had  the  gospel  in  Luganda 

By  the  way,  U-ganda  is  the  country,  "Wa-gaiida  is  the  people, 
and  Lu-ganda  is  the  language. 

Mr.  Stanle}^  said  that  nearly  everyone  in  the  party  had  a 
small  pamphlet  in  Lnganda — prayers,  and  the  Gospelof  ]\Iatthew. 
During  one  of  their  conference's  on.e  of  them  asked  him  with  a 
de])recating  smile,  "Are  all  white  men  Christians?"  That  was 
more  than  Stanley  could  venture  to  say,  though  he  ''hoped"  they 
were. 

Tlicn  he  put  a  point-blank  question  to  mo,  "Are  you  a  Christian?" 
Then  I  asked  him,  "Do  you  consider  yourself  a  Christian?"  "Of  course  I 
do,"  he  replied,  "I  am  one  of  Mr.  MacJay's  men.  There  arc  about  two 
thousand  five  hundred  of  us." 

!^[r.  Stanley  said  that  he  had  not  formed  very  good  impression.^ 
of  the  'U'^aganda  in  IST"),  lhiid<ing  them  shifty  and  unreliable,  but 
the  better  impr(;s.':.ion'?  he  got  in  3  8S9  were  soon  confirmed  by  ifr. 


1010]  llov:  I  Found  Stanley  4Sb 

ilaokay.  As  I  cannot  talco  j^paco  to  give  in  order  all  that  ilio 
groat  explorer  said  al)out.  the  marvelous  expansion  of  tlio  inission, 
I  must  be  content  to  recall  more  snatches  of  his  wonderful  tribute 
to  the  v^'ork  of  j^faclcay.  lie  said  he  admired  the  pcoi)le  im- 
mensely. 

They  are  cleanly,  they  aie  most  intelligent,  and  they  are-  decent.  .  .  . 
They  are  fiill  of  the  traditions  of  their  country,  and  just  the  material  to 
become  good,  thorough,  enrucst,  cnthiiEiastic  Christians.  ...  I  was  much 
aroused  by  the  story  of  the  persecutions  they  had  endured  in  the  days 
after  the  death  of  the  old  king,  Mtesa,  when  his  maddened  s\iccessor 
seized  the  converts  and  put  them  to  death,  or  clubbed  them,  or  sold  them 
into  slavery  to  the  Arabs.  Such  fortitude,  such  bravery,  such  courage! 
It  is  unexampled  in  the  wh.olo  history  of  Africa.  The  more  I  heard  the 
Btory  of  Zachariah  and  Samuel,  and  others,  the  more  I  was  carried  back 
to  the  days  of  Nero  and  Caligula.  I  saw  here  jubt  the  same  courage  that 
the  early  inartyrs  of  Rome  exhibited.  Really,  there  were  instances  of 
eQual  faith,  ct  ecjual  devotion,  of  equal  heroism  in  the  cause  they  had 
embraced.  .  .  .  Gentlemen,  if  all  the  churches  in  tho  whole  Saxon  world — 
your  Saint  Paul's,  your  Westminster  Abbey,  and  all  other  churches — 
v.ere  leveled  to  the  ground,  and  every  trace  of  the  Christian  religion  were 
blotted  out  in  all  the  world  save  there  in  Uganda,  yonder,  where  the  faith- 
ful Scotch  missionary  has  labored  to  lay  deep  the  foundations  of  the 
Christian  faith,  I  am  convinced  that  there  is  enough  intelligence,  enough 
consociation  of  life,  enough  spiritual  energj'  to  start  the  whole  glorious 
procession  around  the  world  again. 

A  question  jmt  to  him  bv  the  VTaganda  converts  referred  to 
deeply  'moved  the  members  of  the  ]\Iissionary  Society,  who 
listened  with  eager  faces  to  the  story  of  !Mr.  Stanley.  Sainuol 
and  Zachariah  ashed,  ''Do  you  think  our  white  friends  v^ill  help 
\is  //  v;e  only  slioin  ihem  ve  arc  men?"  "I  have  not  tho  slightest 
doubt,'-  said  he,  "that  if  they  believe  in  what  I  tell  them,  the^ 
will  help  you  to  the  host  of  their  ability."  And  they  said,  "We 
will  pray  to  God."  One  incident  so  fully  revealed  the  character 
of  Mackay  that  it  .'^hould  be  added  before  I  bring  this  brief  nar- 
rative to  a  close.  After  IFr.  Stanley  had  finished  his  address  some 
questions  were  put  to  him.  One  gentleman  said:  "-^Ir.  Slaidoy,  I 
)totioo  that  in  your  late  book  you  have  a  picture  of  the  Emin  Pasha 
K-xjicdilion  taken  uixkr  a  leafy  shelter  when  you  were  resting  at 
the  foot  of  the  lake.    AVliy  is  not  :Nrr.  :^rackay  there?" 

"I  am  glad  you  have  ask.rd  me  that  question,"  replied  the 
c>q)lor(r,  'Tor  the  fact  v.ill  show  you  l;o\v  modestly  Air.  "Maokav 


4oG  MeiJiodisi  L'cvicw  [-^fiy 

bore  liiinsclf.  \Vc  were  arranging  ourselves  for  a  picture  one  day, 
Emin  Paslia,  Dr.  Jionney,  Stairs,  and  Jephson,  aud  a  few  others 
of  the  party,  and  I  said  to  "\Iackay,  'ITcrc,  ]\Iaekay,  come  in  here 
with  us.'  'Xo,  thank  you,  ^Mr.  Stanley,'  he  .'^aid,  'I  do  not  belong 
to  the  Eniin  Pasha  Expedition,  and  I  should  not  wish  to  have  my 
picture  where  it  did  not  belong.'  So  you  do  not  see  him  with  us — 
to  my  gTcat  regret." 

Alexander  Mackay  died  on  the  8th  of  February,  1800,  four 
months  after  the  departure  of  the  Europeans  among  whom  he 
would  not  be  pictured  for  fear  of  conveyijig  an  erroiieous  impres- 
sion. Such  was  the  might  of  a  single-eye  purpose  that  it  lifted 
him  from  the  promise  of  n.interial  success  in  Europe — the  honor 
scholar  iu  Edinburgh  hcIiooIs;  it  set  him  down  in  darkest  Africa, 
for  fourteen  years  to  face  all  sorts  of  perils,  finally  to  die  of  fever. 
But  what  a  reward,  and  what  a  triumph !  He  rests  now  at  the 
intersection  of  two  roads,  which  run  the  one  to  the  north  and  the 
other  to  the  east  at  the  southern  end  of  Lake  Victoria  Xyauza, 
and  the  while  marble  cross  over  his  gi-avo  benrs  his  name  and  tells 
of  his  work  in  three  languages — English,  Arabic,  and  Suahili.  A 
new  name  has  been  found  for  the  old  road  whieh  early  explorers 
called  "Jlell's  Highway,"  for  is  not  its  name  forever  more  to  be 
that  of  the  Cross  ? 

Since  Mackay  gave  to  the  old  King  ]\Uesa  "The  Bool;"  for 
which  he  asked  so  eagerly  in  1870,  a  wonderful  change  has  come 
over  the  vrholc  Uganda  Protectorate,  not  so  much  in  things  ma- 
terial as  in  things  spiritual.  The  people,  the  most  elevated  and 
civilized  of  African  natives,  are  doing  marvelous  things  for 
progress.  They  have  over  twenty-eight  thousand  pupils  in  schools 
under  Ihe  Instruction  of  iienrly  five  hundred  teachers.  They  pub- 
lish literature  of  a  high  character.  They  liave  erected  nearly  nine- 
teen hundred  Chrisliau  cliurel'.  buildings  and  a  vj^ble  cathedral  at 
their  capital,  IMengo,  ca]-)able  of  liolding  four  thousan.d  wor- 
shipers. The  native  Protestant  church  is  self-supporting,  and  is 
busy  with  its  foreign  missionary  work  among  near-by  pagan 
tribes.  So  the  statement  of  Staidey  on  that  day  in  1800  is  being 
verified.  What  a  contrast  betv.een  its  record  and  (hat  of  the  Congo 
State!     Uganda  is  now  capable  of  reenforcing  the  ranks  of  any 


1010]  How  I  Found  Stmdcij  437 

body  of  educators  in  equatorial  Africa,  and  of  bringing  to  God 
«rid  to  civilizalion  the  pooi)]e  lying  in  the  thick  darkness  that  riniis 
around  the  reniarka])le  people  v/lia  to-day  owe  so  much  to  Stanley 
and  ]\Iackay.  The  day  after  Stanley  received  news  of  the  deatk 
of  Liviugslone  he  wroiQ  in  his  diary:  "May  I  be  selected  to  suc- 
ceed him  in  opening  up  Africa  to  the  light  of  Chri?tiauity.  .  .  . 
May  Livingstone's  God  be  with  nie,  as  he  was  with  Livingstone  in 
all  his  loneliness.  May  God  direct  me  as  he  wills.  I  can  only  vow 
to  be  obedient,  and  not  to  slacken."  From  187.')  to  1890  he  cer- 
tainly had  not  slackened.  And  now,  at  the  cV.se  of  this  most 
thrilliiig  address  to  the  heads  and  friends  of  the  Church  ]\[ission- 
ary  Society,  the  presiding  oflicial  turned  to  some  canon  and  asked 
him  to  lead  in  prayer.  The  room  was  crovv'ded,  and  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  kneel  down.  Xot  even  the  chairman  did  more  than  bend 
his  head  in  his  liand.  But  Stanley,  the  greatest  man  in  the  room, 
turned  around  and  got  upon  his  knees  and  buried  his  head  iu  the 
old  liair-cloth  sofa  and  prayed  with  a  roomful  of  men  much  moved 
by  what  they  had  heard  of  the  "grace  of  God"  made  known  to  far- 
off  Africans  through  the  fearless  zeal  and  abundant  intelligence 
of  Maekay. 


£.i^^^&^ 


^3S  Mclhodhi  llcvievj  [Maj 


Aet.  X.— WIIEP.E  the  FATIIEPtllOOD  OF  GOD  FAILS 
To  gain  aiiylJilng-  like  an  adequate  conception  of  God  is 
exceedingly  difncult.  The  most  lliat  the  finite  mind  can  do  is  to 
think  of  the  Inihnte  in  symbols  or  forms  with  which  it  is  familiar. 
\Vc  abstract  from  onr  cxix-rioncc  the  best  of  which  w^e  have  knowl- 
edge, ascribe  that  to  God,  and  say  God  is  all  that — and  more.  The 
highest  form  of  existence  known  to  ns  is  that  of  a  person,  llcnce 
we  say  God  is  a  Pers(jn,  havijig  all  the  noble  powers  jjossessed  by 
any  human  person— and  more.  To  make  it  clear  that  human 
li)]iitations  do  not  enter  into  onr  tliought  of  God  we  might  declare, 
with  Paulsen,  that  God  is  snprapersonal,  meaning  by  that  to  ex- 
press our  belief  that  the  divine  Being  is  iumieasurably  beyond 
any  form  of  i)ersonality  of  A\-hich  we  are  a^\'are,  It  seems  better, 
however,  with  Lotzo,  to  think  of  all  human  beings  as  imperfect 
forms  of  personality,  and  to  hold  tltat  God  alone  represents  the 
perfect  idea.  So  wlien  ^^•c  call  Go.l  a  King,  a  Judge,  a  Shepherd,  or 
a  T'athcr,  we  do  not  thiiik  of  him  as  a  temporal  king,  weak  or  arbi- 
trary, or  as  an  earthly  judge,  shortsiglited  and  liable  to  error,  or 
as  a  human  shcpheivl,  fearful  and  helpless,  or  as  a  worldly  father, 
cruel  a7id  hardhearted;  but,  rising  above  these  limitations,  we 
porii-ay  him  as  tlie  jicrfcct  Xing,  llie  infallible  Judge,  the  almiglity 
Shepherd,  the  fnulllesb  Father.  These  terms  are  ascribed  to  God 
frequently  in  tlie  Scriptures.  Tlio  endearing  term,  "Father," 
sanctioned  by  Jesus  in  the  j'aridjle  of  the  prodigal  son,  and  given 
conspicuous  position  in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  is  the  one  generally 
cmijloyed  in  theological,  honiiletical,  and  devotional  literature. 
On  Ihe  whole,  it  is  v.-cll  ad;i])(fd  to  convey  our  concc})tion  of  Deity. 
The  Fatherhood  of  God,  however,  fails  to  adequately  represent 
the  divine  Being  in  all  the  varied  experiences  of  human  thought 
ajid  life.  Hence,  for  anyone  to  rest  in  tliis  conception  as  tliough 
it  vrere  full  and  fimd  is  a  grave  mistnke.  Host  ])crsons  will  readily 
admit  as  much,  but  ;d  the  same  x'waq  tluy  are  quick  with  the  query, 
Is  it  possible  to  think  or  sny  anvthing  more  constraining  and 
comprelicnsive  tlian  this  about  God  ?  AVhat  i)hrase  can  be  sug- 
gested which  v.'iJl  help  us  to  any  noblei-  idea  of  Ihe  Infjjiite  than 


1910]  Whr're  ihe  Faihcrliood  of  God  Fails  439 

tlic  one  tauglit  by  Jt-sus  ?  In  roply,  all  siicb  questioners  may  be 
invited  to  look  ftgain  at  the  fanuly  institntion.  Hcnrj  Druniniond 
has  Avell  said:  "Xol  for  eenLuries,  bni  for  millcnuiunis  bas  tbc 
family  survived.  Time  has  not  tarnished  it;  no  later  art  has 
improved  npon  it ;  nor  bas  genius  discovered  anything  more  lovely, 
nor  religion  anything  more  divine."  Assuredly,  if  religion  has 
produced  nothing  more  divine,  here  within  the  family  circle  must 
be  found  another  terra,  if  there  is  any,  which  will  give  us  a  grander 
conception  of  Deity.  Jesus  himself  has  anticipated  our  quest  in 
the  use  of  tho?e  heart-moving  words,  '"'O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem, 
thou  tbiit  killcst  the  i)rophets,  and  stouest  them  which  are  sent 
unto  thee,  how  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy  children  together, 
even  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings,  and  ye 
would  not!"  The  maternal,  not  the  paternal,  nature  is  here 
ascribed  to  the  divine  One.  In  this  Jesus  was  in  turn  anticipated 
by  the  inspired  v.riters  of  Old  Testament  times.  In  the  book  of 
Isaiah  one  may  read  as  follov/s :  '"Can  a  vroman  forget  her  sucking 
child  ?  .  .  .  Yea,  she  may  forget,  yet  will  I  not  forget  thee" ;  "As 
one  whom  his  mother  cornforteth,  so  will  I  comfort  you."  The 
Psalmist  also,  in  these  assuring  words,  declares  his  faith  in  the 
motherliness  of  God  :  "For  my  father  and  my  mother  have  forsaken 
nie,  but  the  Lord  will  lake  me  up."  And  in  the  scriptural  account 
of  the  creation  Dr.  1\L  S.  Terry  discovers  a  hint  of  the  riiaternal  in- 
stinct in  the  Iniiniic.  The  inspired  record  reads  thus:  "God 
created  man  in  his  own  image,  in  the  image  of  God  created  be  him  ; 
male  and  female  created  be  them."  The  suggestion  is  that  the 
mide,  tlie  father,  does  not  fully  ex})ress  the  image  of  God;  the 
ftniale,  tho  mother,  is  needed  to  exhibit  adequately  the  divine 
image.  AVliy  not,  therefore,  ascribe  to  the  Almighty  all  the  best 
qualities  of  mother  as  well  as  all  the  best  qualities  of  father? 
Have  we  not  suffered  by  such  omission?  These  questions  fui-nish 
a  clue  to  Avhat  we  believe  is  a  neglected  onpha.-is  in  Protestantism. 
Til.-  fret  dom-loving  spirit  of  Protestantism  acc.>rds  an  ino'oasingly 
largo  pla^e  to  vroinan  in  the  social,  industrial,  professional,  and 
]'olitical  life  of  the  world.  Sh.e  bas  takm  her  place  beside  man 
in  almost  every  department  of  human  activity.  In  this  country 
the  occujnitions  in  which  she  toils  are  said  to  number  a  thousand. 


440  Mclhodi.st  Bcvicw  [Maj 

ISTcvertlieless,  those  soel;il  re  formers  who  would  rafikc  her  even  as 
the  man  are  greatly  in  error.    Tennyson  has  truly  said, 

■Woman  is  uot  undevclopt  man, 
But  diverse;    could  v,c  niake  her  as  the  man, 
Sweet  love  v.-ore  slain:    whoso  dearest  bond  is  this, 
Not  like,  to  like,  but  like  in  dificrence. 

Then,  assnnii7ig  the  form  of  proplieey,  the  poetic  strain  continues  : 

Yet  in  the  long  years  likcr  must  they  grow; 

The  man  be  more  of  woman,  she  of  man; 

He  gain  in  sweetness  and  iu  moral  height, 

Nor  lose  the  wrestling  tliew.s  that  throw  the  world; 

She  mental  breadth,  nor  fail  in  childward  care, 

Nor  lose  the  childlike  in  the  hnger  mind. 

This  likeness,  then,  will  never  n mount  to  identity,  since  woman  ia 
physiologically,  psychologically,  and  religiously  different  frora 
ma]].     So  Tennyson  julds. 

Defect  in  each,  and  always  thought  in  thought, 

Purpose  in  purpose,  will  in  will,  they  grow. 

The  single  pure  and  perfect  animal, 

The  two-celled  heart,  beating,  with  one  full  stroke, 

Life. 

Just  as  it  takes  the  two-celled  heart  to  heal  the  full  stroke  of  human 
life,  so  it  l:ikcs  the  twofold  conception  of  fatherhood  and  niother- 
hood  to  make  our  idea  of  Cod  sufiicie]itly  complete  for  practical 
religious  needs.  Driimuiond,  in  his  discussion  of  '''the  evolution  of 
a  father"  and  ''the  evolmion  of  a  mother,"  makes  it  clear  that  the 
father's  gift  to  the  world  i.-^  ]-ighteousncss  and  the  mother's  gift 
love.  AVith  the  thougb.t  (d"  fatherhood  avc  may  satisfactorily  con- 
ceive the  ijghtettusness  of  Cod,  hut  we  fail  to  propei'ly  compre- 
hend the  ^vo!lderiul  Ionc  of  the  divine  heing. 

lioman  Catholics  escape  this  difficulty  hy  turning  the  Trinity 
practically  into  a  cjualernity.  ]\[ai-y,  the  motlier  of  Jesus,  hecomcs 
a  kind  of  a  fourth  ]»rr.-^on  in  ili<'  (iodhead,  and  she  personifies  iu 
idtal  form  all  the  ])ure,  tender,  and  com])assiona(e  (pnililies  of 
motherhood.  A  glance  at  chui'ch  history  may  help  us  lo  under- 
stand this  lament ahle  di\ergence  from  Xew  Testament  teaching. 
When  Christianity  cojiquered  tlie  Ilornan  world,  the  danger  wa« 
that  pagan  elements  would  enter  into  tl-.e  wor.-hiii  (if  (lie  elmreli. 


1910]  Where   Ihe  FalJirrhnod  of  God  Falls  441 

Should  special  occa-ioTi  aii^o,  it  v.-ouLl  not  bn  diiliciilt  for  pro]^lc 
who  had  been  acc'Usi.C)mcd  to  llio  v.or.-hip  of  female  deities  to  add 
a  feminine  form  to  the  three  ]\r>nns  of  the  Trinitv.  This  occasion 
was  furnished  by  tlio  doctrinal  strife  known  as  the  iSTcstorian 
controversy.  U'ho  bone  of  contention  was  the  use  of  a  word, 
OeoTotcog,  ''']\Iother  of  God."  Xestorius,  bishop  of  Constantinople, 
a  representative  of  the  Antiochan  school  which  jdaced  emphasis 
upon  the  human  factor  in  Chrisrs  life,  objected  to  the  term  as 
likely  to  convey  a  wrong  impression  conccrni)ig  the  parentage  of 
Deity.  lie  held  that  not  God,  but  the  temple  of  God,  was  born  of 
Mary,  and  his  words  wheu  properly  construed  hardly  warranted 
the  chnrge  of  heresy  against  him,  namely,  that  he  believed  Christ 
not  merely  to  have  two  natures,  the  hmnan  and  divine,  but  in 
reality  to  be  two  distinct  persons.  Yet  C'yril,  bishop  of  Alexandria, 
who  iinduly  emphasized  the  divir.e  nature  of  Christ,  seized  iipou 
the  objection  to  the  terin  Otoro/io^-  as  an  occasion  to  denounce  Xes- 
torius  as  a  heretic,  with  the  result  that  the  Council  of  Ephesus,  in 
A.  D.  43J,  acting  in  jjaste  before  the  arrival  of  the  Eastern  bishops, 
v,-ho  were  more  friendly  to  the  accused,  anathematized  Xestorius. 
The  condemned  l)i^hop  never  regaijicd  standing  in  the  church. 
Although  the  differences  among  the  church  authorities  were  ad- 
justed by  the  acceptance  later  of  the  compromise  proposal  of 
Theodoret,  in  which  the  two  distinct  natures  of  Christ  were  as- 
ferted  as  over  against  the  extreme  vle^v  of  Cyril,  and  the  expres- 
sion, ''^Mother  of  God,"  was  vindicated  as  over  against  the  objection 
of  ;Nestorius.  Yrom  that  time,  A.  D.  431,  the  use  of  the  term 
'•'Mother  of  God"  was  a  sign  and  shibboleth  of  the  orthodox  belief. 
In  art  much  was  made  of  the  j\radonna  and  the  Child,  altars  and 
churches  wn^re  dedicated  to  ^lary,  and  veneration  passed  into 
wur.ship.  In  time  ]")ainti]ig3  ajipcared  with  the  nimhii.'i  given  to 
Mary  as  well  as  to  Christ  and  the  angels;  later  the  Virgin  was 
rei-resented  as  the  queen  of  heaven,  in  the  center  of  the  apse,  a 
po.-ition  previously  accorded  only  to  Christ;  and  at  last,  in  the 
twelfth  century,  she  was  enthroned  with  CJirist  as  liis  equal  (as 
tlic  mosaic  in  the  cliurch  of  Saint  .Maria  in  Trastevere  bears  wit- 
i!c-^s).  Tn  the  thought  of  the  church  all  the  best  qualities  of  mother- 
hcKjd  w<'re  portrayed  as  characteristic  of  ^lary,  and  all  weaknesses 


'^J^  Mclhodisl  L'criciu  [May 

and  sborlfomiiigs  wore  left  cil:  of  t]io  picture.  LegciKk  wore  now 
accepted  conceruiiio;  iLe  l)iiili  and  dcatli  of  .\rary  to  which  previ- 
ously credence  liiid  not  ])een  given,  and  ]\Lary  thus  became  the 
immaculate  one,  the  perfect  queen  of  heaven,  the  mother  of  mercy, 
upon  whom  repentajit  sinners  mn^t  call  To  her  popular  belief 
ascribed  ''a  sinless  concept iuu,  a  .sinless  birth,  resurrection,  and 
ascension  to  ht^aven,  and  a  participation  of  all  power  in  heaven 
and  eoi-th."  Gabriel  V/w],  a  IJimian  Catholic  w)-iter,  =aid  that 
"our  heavenly  Father  oavc-  half  of  his  kingdom  to  the  most  blessed 
.Virgin,  queeDi  of  luaven.  ...  So  that  our  heavenly  Father,  who 
possessed  justice  ajid  uwvcy,  retained  the  former,  and  conceded  to 
the  Virgin  Mary  the  exercise  of  the  lattei-."  To  many,  therefore, 
Mary  became  the  one  source  and  the  oidy  ground  of  hope.  Dis- 
criminating Eonnni  Catholics  might  distinguish  between  Jiypcr- 
duUa,  the  worshij)  paid  tu  Mary,  and  the  lairia,  the  worship  paid 
to  God,  but  with  a  mulliiude  Mariolatry  became  idolatry,  and  thev 
thought  of  Mary  as  '-ihe  ladder  to  ]x^iradise,  the  gate  of  heaven,  the 
jnobt  true  nuxliati-ix  betv.x-en  God  and  man."  God  might  be  the 
King  of  Justice,  but  3.1ary  vras  the  Queen  of  Mercy;  God  might 
1)0  the  Father  of  souls,  but  .Mary  is  also  their  :>Iother.  An  accepted 
l^oman  Catholic  interpreter  furnishes  the  following:  "  SSince  the 
very-  tigers,'  says  our  most  loving  :^rother  ;Mary,  'cannot  forget 
their  young,  huw  can  I  forget  to  luve  you,  my  children  ('  " 

Such  is  the  outeouie  of  separating  justiee  and  mercy,  -vvhieh 
are  both  attributes  of  the  Eternal  and  Infinite  Being.  Discard 
Mariolatry  you  may  and  nin-f ;  but  in  doing  so  do  not  fail  to  re- 
member that  all  that  is  best  in  that  magic  word  "mother"  belongs 
to  God.  There  is  a  ujaternal  instinct  in  the  Infinite,  and  the  sweet- 
est words  in  the  langiuige,  "njolher,  home,  and  heaven,"  ai)i»ly 
alike  to  Deity.  God  is  heaven,  and  heaven  is  home,  and  he  who 
dwells  there  will  "mother"  us  all.  This  view  not  only  presents 
an  inspiring  hope  fcir  the  future,  but  it  also  has  a  value,  apologetic, 
homiletic,  and  devotional,  here  and  now.  Ascribe  to  God  mother's 
spirit  of  self-sacrifice  and  you  make  it  doubly  diOicult  for  the  un- 
believer to  say  that  he  cannot  aeeej,l  as  credible  the  story  of 
sacriHee  at  Calvary.  In  Fitelu  tt's  Beliefs  of  Unbelief  (p.  127) 
the  reader  discovers  a  forceful  putting  of  the  case:  "Let  us  imagine 


j'jJOj  Where   ihe  FaUicrliood  of   Cod  Fails  4J:3 

that  in  the  pnLii  of  a  inollier's  bond  lay  tlie  infinilo  wealth  of  ('o<] ; 
that  to  the  toiulcrnc^s  of  a  liuinau  mother's  lipni-l  were  linked  the 
wlbdoni  and  the  onmipotcnce  of  God.  VvHiat  son  would  then  doubt 
the  pos.-5ibility  of  there  coining  into  bis  life  a  redemption  as  rich 
in  grace,  as  dazzling  in  scale,  as  that  depicted  in  the  Gospels  ?  .  .  . 
A  mother's  love  linked  to  omnii)otence  would  malic  cvei-ything 
possible."  Again,  the  unfailing  tenderne-s  of  motlu  r  hel])S  us  to 
understand  the  long-sufTering love  of  God.  She  belifnt'S  in  lu-r  Vvisy- 
ward  son  when  the  righteous  indignation  of  father  has  barred  the 
door  against  the  ( rring  child.  That  boy  is  her  child,  and  she  can- 
not give  him  v]k  J.et  the  prenchri-  pi-each  from  the  text,  ''Can  a 
mother  forget  her  sucking  child  (  .  .  .  Yea,  these  nuiy  forget,  yet 
will  ]  not  forget  thee,"  and  no  sinnii^.g  soul  can  fail  to  feel 

Tberc  is  no  plane  where  earth's  sorrows 

Are  so  felt  as  up  in  Ilciivcn; 
There  i.s  no  place  where  earth's  failings 

Have  such  kindly  juclguitnt  given. 

Isor  need  this  note  of  comi)assion  in  song  or  sermon  tend  to  ea.-e 
the  conscience  and  so  defeat  moral  ends.  ])(»ubtlesN,  the  worship 
of  Mary  has  had  that  result  in  Pioman  C'athr.lic  lands.  But  is  this 
not  due,  partly  at  least,  to  the  fact  that  the  wakefulness  and  watch- 
fulness of  mother  is  overlooked?  Let  the  Protestant  preacher 
develop  the  seed  thouglit  of  such  a  text  as  Isa.  31.  ;"»,  where  Jehovyh 
is  likened  to  a  mother  bird  hovering  over  Jerusalem,  and  let  it  be 
sh<..wn  that  Gcd,  who  neither  slumbers  nor  sleeps,  is  ever  expecting, 
ever  watching,  to  sec  only  the  best,  just  as  a  human  mother  in  the 
audience  anticipates  the  best  d<"livery  of  that  graduating  speech 
frem  her  son  upon  the  stage,  and  what  hearer  can  feel  that  he  may 
be  at  ease  as  loiig  as  he  continues  to  disappoint  God  by  Avrong 
doing?  "All  the  v;orld"s  a  stage,"  and  all  the  persons  who  ])lay 
upon  it  arc  nnder  the  continual  surveillance  of  a  love  which  is 
satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  one's  best.  Observe,  also,  that  the 
unique  power  of  mother  to  comfort  helps  us  to  eomiirehend  the 
comfort  whercv.ith  we  are  comforted  of  God.  The  little  child  v.hen 
hurt  turiis  in;.tinctively  tu  mother.  Father's  sfn.ng  arm  may 
furnish  i»rotectlon  in  time  of  danger,  hn[  to  bind  uj)  a  wound  ai:il 
lo  soothe  the  feelings  the  tender  touch  of  mothers  hand  is  need(  d. 


4-14  Mcihodist  lievicw  [^i^ay 

So  ^vlu-rc  llio  lliongbt  of  (be  divine  Father  pitying  us  fails  to  reach 
our  grief-strickeu  lives,  ilie  o;hcr  thonght,  of  God  comforting  with 
all  the  tenderness  of  a  mollwy,  may  bring  solace  and  satisfaction. 
With  great  beauty  and  fullness  of  detail  has  the  editor  of  the 
]\iiVJKW  presented  this  phase  of  the  subject  in  his  volume,  The 
Eipening  Exj^orience  of  Life.  Truly  does  he  say:  *''Jf  Cod  wanted 
to  lay  hold  on  the  most  tender  and  potent  thing  in  the  world  with 
which  to  convey  to  uj.tnldnd  an  idea  of  infinite  comforting,  he 
found  it  in  a  mother's  love;  and  we  will  miss  the  moaning  of  the 
tenderest  promise  in  the  Old  Testament  if  we  do  not  learn  from 
it,  by  studying  a  mother's  comforting,  what  thoughts  of  God  are 
warranted  in  us  by  his  own  words." 

Perhaps  the  quisiioii  will  now  arise  v/hether  we  are  ready  to 
change  the  inlrcxluctojy  v\'ords  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  to  pro- 
pose a  revision  of  the  parable  of  the  prodigal  son.  By  no  means. 
What  is  written  is  v.-rilten  and  is  v\-orthy  of  acceptation  by  all. 
Put  equally  great  is  the  folly  of  neglecting  other  important  things 
which  are  unalterably  Avritten.  iSTo  one  need  emphasize  the  father- 
hood less,  but  v;hy  not  emphasize  the  motherhood  more?  Just  as 
man  and  woman  are  joined  together  and  become  one  flesh,  so  do 
these  coi]ceptions  of  fatherhood  and  motherhood  unite  in  any 
adequate  thought  of  the  Divine  Parent.  What,  therefore,  God  hath 
joined  together  in  his  Word  and  in  his  nature,  let  not  man  put 
asunder. 


10 10]  Tlie  Piraclicr  of  tlic  Evangel  44J 


Art.  XL— the  rj^vEACIIE  P.  OF  THE  EVANGEL 
K"o  Olio  c-aii  begin  to  cstiiii.'iU-  the  power  of  the  spoken  word. 
Beside  it  iLe  written  niessnae;  ^'^  Jt  appears  iu  public  press  and 
cnrrenl  literalurc,  is  eolorless  and  {:inie.  In  every  age  the  prophet 
lias  niiule  use  of  it  to  beat  down  ini])!e1y,  to  teaeh  righteousness, 
to  give  freedom  to  the  oppressed,  aiid  to  h\y  the  fonndations  of  the 
jcingdoin  of  God.  The  first  great  moral  force  after  martyrdom 
wliich  aroused  the  old  Tvoman  world  from  its  torpor  and  sensuality 
was  the  power  of  the  Christian  pulpit,  and  to  its  influence  in  suc- 
ceeding generations  histor)'  bears  unanimous  ir.-iimon}'.  Ju'^t 
now,  it  may  be,  one  does  not  hear  the  tones  of  the  distinctively 
religious  prophet  pacing  along  the  old  Ap])iaii  AViiy  of  eloquence 
and  thrumming  u]ion  the  deepest  strings  of  the  human  heart.  His 
brothers,  the  political  prophet  and  the  social  enthusiast,  have 
ptolcn  mnch  of  his  message,  but  many  of  these  are  in  the  true  suc- 
ci--sion,  fur  Christianity  in  its  S}.lendid  vitality  has  burst  through 
ail  ecclrsiastieal  bounds,  and  if  tb.e  church  can  oid_y  keep  pace 
with  the  S]U]-it  of  Christ,  there  is  no  convinciiig  evidence  that  the 
power  of  the  Christian  pulpit  will  ever  be  eclipsed.  There  are 
several  reasons  for  the  diminished  emphasis  which  we  modern •« 
put  upon  the  distinctly  pulpit  ministrations  of  the  Protestant 
ch-rgynian.  At  I'ottom  it  is  duo  to  the  fact  that  we  have  shifted  the 
basis  of  authority  in  religion.  Protestantism  transferred  the  c:;i- 
jdiasis  frou]  an  infallible  church  to  an  infallible  Pool:,  and  v/iih 
a  belief  in  verbal  inspiration  and  scriptural  inerrancy  men  could 
bo  silenced,  comforted,  enlightened,  rebuked  by  a  single  phrase 
(•lii..-en  almost  at  raiidom  from  the  rieh  and  varied  story  r.f  the 
iiiblo,  V^e  have  come  to  see,  however,  that  the  Jiible  is  a  comj're- 
lu'hsive  body  of  literature  extendirig  over  many  centuries  and 
marking  many  stages  of  progress,  and  that  its  authority  is  not 
bn.-ed  upon  its  literal  accuracy,  but  upon  the  S]>irit  of  G(»d  within 
its  revelation  which  speaks  to  the  S]>irit  of  God  within  the  Irart 
<(f  man.  It  strikes  its  roots  deep  into  tlir»  reason  and  conscience 
of  humanity.  Tt  stands  on  its  own  autboi-Ity  as  the  unique  and 
nn:i]q)roachable  Word  of  God  t.»  man,  for,  beyond  all  controversy. 


4-lG  lllclhodlsl  Review  [:^]Ry 

llio  ]jil)]c  La?  n  voice  of  compelling  iiiajosty,  and  its  trutli  is  veri- 
fied in  tlu.  iniiver.-al  exjicrience  of  tlio  race.  As  a  result  of  this 
shifting  of  eniplui^is  from  tlie  letter  to  the  spirit  it  is  quite  a  mut- 
ter of  course  that  tlu'  outward,  vi>JMc  authority  of  the  preacher 
should  he  (liiuinidi( 'I.  IL-  i.-  no  longer  the  isolated  and  infallihlc 
tcaclu-)'  Avho-e  Ij-sr  diril  i-;  io  Vo  oh.-'ved.  He  is  a  man  among  men. 
'I'ho  olcl-l'a>liini)ed  hi'Ji  iiul])it,  lifting  itself  graudlv  ahove  the 
lieads  of  tlie  congregatirm,  entei'cd  hy  a  paneled  door  in  the  cliau- 
cel  and  reached  l>y  the  scala  saucia,  which  the  feet  of  the  profane 
tremhloil  to  viol:ii(\  auJ  llius  ]m'u\  i(]ir:g  for  the  minister  a  sjilendid 
isolation,  is  no  loug.  r  tvjiical  of  our  conception  of  his  authority. 
It  is  the  unan?-VN-oraV>]e  truth  of  his  evangtl  Lathed  in  the  passion 
and  fire  of  his  own  g-xlly  life  which  gains  for  him  a  liearing,  if 
he  has  one.  TLo>e  who  listen  are  of  a  sudden  hushed  into  rever- 
ence and  inclined  to  ?;d>niission  not  hy  the  ipse  dixit  of  a  fallible 
preacher,  roLcd  in  gown  and  Lands,  but  because  the  mouth  of  the 
Lo;-d  haih  sjohcii  thn.iinh  a  true  man  and  a  ti-uc  message.  Hence 
the  ycry  ju-t  and  v/holcsome  obliteration  of  that  false  line 
of  cleavaiie  v»-hich  ilistinguishes  the  uiini-ter  in  the  ])ulpit  from 
the  niinirtir  in  th'.'  lur.i'hft  ])lare,  or  the  minister  in  the  commit- 
tee, or  v,lu'rr'\er  chc  his  aeli\uties  may  occupy  him.  It  is  not, 
then,  Lccau.-rc  he  i.-.  a  mini-ter  in  any  ollieial  oi-  ecclesiastical  sense, 
but  l)ccanse  he  is  a  .codly  man,  wL.o  l;;,s  lived  his  way  into  the 
lieart  of  ChvisiV  Sriii'M  and  fell  his  way  into  the  hcai-t  of  Christ's 
love,  and  thought  his  way  info  the  heart  of  Christ's  evangel,  that 
his  pulpit  becomes  a  ]f]:\vv  of  authority  and  pov.'cr.  It  follows 
that  the  minister  in  the  pul])it  must  be  above  all  things  absolutely 
real  and  genuine  wilhoui  di-guisc  or  jn-etensc.  ^fany  faults  and 
failings  may  be  fo^-given,  bnt  oiio  thing  is  unpardonable — a  pidpit 
pej-formance  in  whieb  iL.e  minister  seems  to  be  chieily  impressed 
with  the  ofiicial  dignity  and  foi-mal  functions  of  his  olficc.  Take, 
for  instance,  his  manner  in  the  ])nl]u*1.  If  it  is  stilted,  lofty,  and 
unnatural,  encouraging  in  the  minds  of  his  people  the  false  and 
antiquati  d  idea  that  be  is  somehow  a  dilferent  sort  of  being  from 
themselves;  if  his  public  prayer  is  a  foinn-^l  address  to  the  throne 
of  grace,  without  sjxintin'.eity  or  sym]iail;y;  if  his  voice  assumes  a 
])io\'.s  tone,  u):natural  n:odidation;  if  his  nussage  i':;  full  of  stilted 


.191U]  The  ]\\achrr  of  Ihc  Evangd  4-17 

]tlii-a.-c  and  fcigiK-d  seulinioiit,  (H>gui>lng  llie  real  nian,  iIk-u  bo 
is  qnitf  out  of  i)'aco  ii;  tlie  iiioc!cj-n  iiiinislry  of  the  cliurcli;  and 
his  pcoplo,  if  thoy  Imvc  any  Pcn?o  of  huinov,  will  desire  nothing 
qnitc  so  nineli  as  to  .-^c  e  hi^s  empty  bnbhlo  of  professional  authority 
priebcd  and  dissii)atcd.  Fi-oni  the  amount  of  attention  which 
.hi\\<  gave  to  the  condemnation  of  ecele.siastical  hy])Ocrisy  it 
wcr.ild  M(  in  cry.-tal  clear  iliat  the  lirst  requisite  of  the  Christian 
ministry  is  genuine,  undi^guisf^d,  unprofes>>ional  mauhood.  The 
?piiil  of  the  prayer,  the  sermon,  the  exhortation  must  be  nothing 
less  than  the  manifested  spirit  of  the  man.  Whatever  of  the  divine 
life,  humility,  reverence,  faith,  love  of  truth,  indignation  against 
evil,  comjiassion  fdr  nicu  may  lie  in  ilio  minister,  the  same  will 
become  the  very  atmosphere  of  his  pnl])it. 

iXext  to  sincorily  let  me  name  Innn'inU]).  There  is  a  funda- 
mental identity  of  nature  which  Innds  togeiher  all  races,  all  ages, 
all  conditions.  The  language  of  this  uidversal  experience  when 
once  it  breaks  loose  from  the  bonds  of  conventional  phraseology, 
is  a  language  that  needs  no  lexicon.  Priam  begging  the  body  of 
Jlector;  Achilles  the  Vrrathful,  Ulys.^es  the  much  enduring,  are 
no  stra]igers  to  us.  AVe  meet  them  on  tlie  streets  to-day.  Th(^ 
grief  that  killed  Eli  kills  men  novr. 

There  is  neither  soon  nor  late 

In  that  chamber  over  the  gate. 

Nor  any  long  ago 

To  that  cry  of  hnmr.n  woe, 

"O,  Absalom,  my  son." 

''Three  thousand  yenrs  have  passed  since  a  slave  mother  would 
not  let  her  little  child  be  killed,  and  nearly  four  thousand  since 
Jacob  toiled  seven  years  twice  over  and  thought  them  but  a  day 
for  the  L)\e  he  bore  his  Tlachrl."  And  these  incidents  are  still 
common  to  the  i-acc.  Xevcr  so  k(cnly  as  now  have  we  felt  this 
sense  (.)f  human  solidarity  in  tlie  < -sontial  unity  of  c'xjterience, 
binding  together  pauper  and  millionaire,  child  and  sage,  criminal 
and  saint.     The  minister  must  be  bathed  in  the  blood  of 

Tills  great  Humanity  whioh  beats 

Its  life  along  our  stormy  streets. 

Xo  amount  of  intdicf  lual  ar:(l  liii  rary  si, ill  in  the  pidpit  can  nud;t' 
up  for  lack  of  symp.'.thy  v.ith  acliud  m-.n  aial  wonu:n  who  toil  and 


448  ]\Ic(hodi,-l  J^rvicvj  []\Iny 

suffer,  tloLibt  and  .^lrn--l('.  in  The  rj-oaclicr  and  Ills  ]\[odels,  Ih-. 
Stalker  hns  drinvii  no  i":ineifnl  ])ic{uri,'  when  he  sn ys : 

There  is  an  unearthly  style  of  proachinti  without  the  blood  of  life  in 
it:  the  people  with  their  burdens  in  the  pews — the  burden  of  home,  the 
burden  of  business,  tlie  burden  of  the  problems  of  tlie  day— while  in  the 
pulpit  the  minister  is  elaborating:  seme  nice  point  wliioh  has  takf>n  his 
fancy  in  the  course  of  his  studies,  but  has  no  interest  whatever  for  thein. 
Only  now  and  then  a  stray  sentence  nioy  pull  up  their  waudcrins  attention. 
Perhaps  he  is  saying,  "Xow  some  of  you  will  reply" — and  then  follows  an 
objection  to  v,'!ial.  he  h:;s  been  stating  which  no  one  but  a  wooden  man 
would  ever  think  of  makiiirr.  But  he  proceeds  to  deniolish  It,  while  the 
hearer,  knowing  it  to  iie  mo  concern  of  his,  let ires  into  his  own  interior. 

Tlie  pulpit  \vhicli  is  niciily  i;  ])l;:co  for  snch  apadcinic  and  schol- 
arly discussion  has  failed  of  its  fnnction,  Avliicli  is  primarily  a 
synipatholic  relation  of  tnilli  to  life.  '•While  the  sermon,  must 
have  heaven  for  its  fai^;.-r,  it  mv,>{  have  earth  for  its  mother,"  some 
one  remarhs.  It  is  J.  G.  Jlolland  v.ho  reminds  us  i)i  Bitter  Sweet 
that  there  are  three  classes  of  people  in  the  world:  the  master 
minds,  v/ho  dwell  v.itli  their  heads  anioni^  the  stars,  and  then  a 
second  com])nny,  v/hose  function  it  is  to  receive  the  truth  f)'oni 
master  minds  and  to  crumhle  it  n]>  to  feed  the  third  class— the 
great  mass  of  hungry,  weary,  yearjiing-  men  and  women.  To  ful- 
fill the  ofiice  of  this  second  company,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  one'!* 
positiourii^  the  aristocracy  of  scholarship,  is  to  discharge  the  true 
ohligaiidn  of  the  (.  Iiii.  I);in  pidpit.  This  humanity  of  the  preacher 
will  bring  him  into  syni pathetic  touch  with  the  awakened  social 
conscience  an.d  the  tlirc.l.liing  pnl.-e  of  every  movement  of  recon- 
struction and  reforiM.  lie  Avili  fi-ee  liimself  from  George  Eliot's 
charge  of  undue  "oiher-worldlincss,"  and  will  emphasize  the  in- 
terdependence of  all  life,  the  obligation  of  streugtli  to  weakness, 
the  necessity  of  sarrifice  and  social  scTvice.  It  is  not  enough,  hov>'- 
cver,  for  the  man  in  l]>e  jiulpit  to  have  a  true  heart  and  a  human 
interest,  Anoflur  thing  is  absuluiely  essential.  The  minister 
must  have  a  mcsmgo  whidi  ho  can  deliver  with  intelh3ctual  con- 
viction and  emotional  intensity.  Xo  matter  wliat  his  eloquence 
and  charm,  if  he  has  nothing  lo  say  which  is  wcu-th  while,  uo  mes- 
Bage  that  meets  the  needs  of  the  liearers,  they  will  forsake  him  as 
Eoou  as  they  find  it  out.  Iff  may  pari  with  cerlain  faitlis,  he  may 
hold  others  loosely,  lie  may  intei-j)r(.i  others  in  his  own  v/ay,  and 


;1010]  Tlic  Preacher  of  ihe  Evangel  449 

tlill  have  a  Avord  of  God  to  deliver.  ]lut  this  process  of  eHiniiia- 
tioii  and  negation  caiiiiot  go  on  indcfiiiiuly.  There  is  a  point  be- 
Yund  wliich  the  preacher's  Avord  ceases  to  be  with  authority. 

■J'lie  expansion  of  kiio'.vledge  Avhich  lias  taken  place  Aviihin 
the  last  century  has  given  birth  to  critictd  methods  of  study  which 
have  been  applied  to  the  history  and  literature  of  religion  as  well 
as  to  all  other  departments  of  hnov.dcdge  and  of  life.  The  higher 
criticism,  for  instance,  has  made  a  careful  historic  and  literary 
study  of  every  book  in  the  Bible  to  deteruiinc,  if  possible,  its  date, 
authorship,  contents,  and  reliability.  The  results  of  this  method 
of  study  have  been  most  bencliceut.  It  seems  impossible  for  any- 
one auy  longer  to  question  the  legitiuiacy  and  ultimate  desira- 
bility of  such  a  careful  examination  of  the  sources  of  religious 
truth.  It  has  shown  u.-  much  that  v/as  false  and  trivial,  unim- 
portant and  incidental,  but  it  has  ako  emphasized  more  clearly 
that  whicli  is  essential  and  fimdamental.  Many  of  these  conclu- 
sions are  not  yet  established  and  some  of  them  have  been  an- 
nounced v\-ith  such  dogunitic  certainty  that  one  is  led  to  question 
the  reliability  of  the  critic;  but,  on  the  Avliole,  the  results  have 
been  so  generally  accepted  that  there  is  no  lou£',er  any  need  of 
apology  or  defense.  It  is  time,  however,  to  euiphasize  the  danger 
which  follows  in  the  wake  of  a  critical  and  negative  mood.  I  have 
been  reading  the  Journal  of  Professor  Amiel,  that  quiet  and  medi- 
tative teacher  in  the  University  of  Geneva,  whose  microsco[)ic 
analysis  of  his  ov.n  beliefs  and  moods  and  niotives  led  to  sterility 
of  genius,  a  lack  of  enthusiasm  for  the  normal  interests  of  life,  an 
inability  to  believe  with  any  purpose  or  to  act  with  any  result, 
wliich  made  of  his  promising  career  a  tragic  failure.  The  pitiful 
thing  about  it  is  that  he  himself  was  conscious  of  his  abuse  of  the 
critical  faculty.     Ilear  this  out  of  his  own  bitter  experience: 

How  liialign,  infectious,  and  un-^'holcsoine  is  llie  eternal  smile  of  that 
Indifferent  criticism,  that  attitude  of  irouiral  contemplation  v.hich  cor- 
rodes and  demolishes  cverythinii;  that  morkintc,  pitiless  temper  which 
holds  it5-,clf  aloof  from  every  j.ersonal  duty  and  every  vulnerable  affection 
and  cares  only  to  understand  witliout  comniiltins  itself  to  action.  Criti- 
cism become  a  habit,  a  fashion,  a  system  means  tiie  dtstruclion  of  moral 
cuerpry,  of  fnilli,  and  of  all  spiritual  rules,  for  life  is  an  nffirmation.  To 
IJvo  wo  must  believe  sonethius  with  .ill  our  mind  and  soul  and  stren-^th. 


•150  Mcthodid  JUvlcw  [.May 

Tlio  churoli  i.-;  in  dougor  of  aLusiiig  tho  critical  facultv.  1 1  is 
^vo]l  thill  critici.-iii  Las  demolisliod  tlic  scatioldiug  of  religion 
wbicli  \vc  have  ton  long  identified  with  the  structure  itself,  but 
humanity  cannot  fecil  upon  ncgalions.  It  must  have  something; 
positive  on  which  to  nourish  its  JiJ'c  It  is  time,  therefore,  tliat 
Ave  Avcre  at  the  huiluing  again.  If  the  cliurcli  is  to  continue  to 
inovc  tlio  Avorld,  it  mnsi  have  a  nu'<sagf'  v/liieh  it  believes  Avitli  all 
its  mind  and  soul  and  .-rlicngth.  It  must  devote  itself  to  the  con- 
struction of  siirh  a  faitlu  Our  creeds  and  systems  and  institu- 
tions may  change,  but  human  needs  do  not  alter.  ^Fcn  still  know 
what  it  is  to  sin  an.d  to  carry  about  in  their  lives  the  scars  of 
broken  lav\-.  Tl'ey  .^lill  knov/  what  it  is  to  sorrow.  They  still  feci 
the  pain  of  failure  ai:d  ruined  b.opes.  They  still  grow  old  and 
die,  and  they  are  .-liJl  huvigry  for  the  positive  faith  that  v.'ill  save 
them  from  their  sins,  comfort  them  in  their  sorrows,  illuminate 
them  in  their  darkness,  and  nourish  them  vdieii  the  strain  of  life 
has  left  them  weak  and  faint.  The  church  inn.st  give  them  this 
message  for  which  they  hunger.  Let  the  critics  and  scholars  con- 
tinno  to  light  over  tlir  debatable  grouiid  until  ihcy  have  reached 
conclusions,  but  there  are  certain  fundamental  and  eternal  trutlis 
Avhich  the  church  has  in  its  keeping  and  which  humanity  cannot 
outgrow.  Let  it  coiitinue  to  emphasize  the  reality  of  sin  and 
reconciliation  to  life  and  pain  an.d  sorrow  through  the  sacrificial 
love  of  God  in  Jc-us  Cln-ist  our  Lord.  Let  it  set  forth  the  prin- 
cijjles  in  the  social  teaching  of  Jtsus,  the  duty  of  service,  the 
lo^■e  for  man  as  man  without  regard  to  )-ace,  color,  or  condition, 
the  spirit  of  comradeship  ilnd  mutual  regard  v/hich  alone  can  solve 
our  pi-oblems  in  human  reationship.  Let  it  continue  to  urge  men 
to  live  (heir  lives  not  in  llie  light  of  the  immediate  present  but  in 
the  light  of  that  g!(  lit  l!o].e  which  breaks  across  (he  years.  Tho 
r;=thcrhood  <if  (Jud.  the  Saviuurhood  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  brother- 
hood of  man;  the  woild  has  not  vet  out;>ro\vn  this  evanael. 


_w„-A, 


Rl^..   U. 


^l 


j;jJOj  The  rreachcr's  Pulijit  J'raycrs  451 


Art.  XII.— the  rifEACITETrS  rULriT  rr.AYEPvS 

PuLi'iT  prayers  arc  M-orlli  careful  study.  People  stare  about 
or  mentally  uaiuler  afar  during  the  period  they  oceiijn-.  The 
]a'ayer  ou^^lit  to  grip  the  attention.  All  hearts  should  be  lifted  into 
ihe  presciice  of  God.  He  is  near,  thonph  \ve  fail  to  recognize  it. 
The  f^ermon  falls  flat  ujdcss  the  preceding  devotions  emphasize 
that  fact.  Strength  is  needed  for  the  sermon,  but  not  all.  The 
opening  services  will  command  the  best,  both  to  unify  the  audience 
and  start  the  brain  and  loose  the  spirit  of  tlie  i)reacher.  It  is  a 
dangei'oiis  expedient  to  invite  a  visitor  to  offer  the  opening  petition. 
This  is  the  pastor's  ])roviuee.  He  knows  the  flock  and  their  ills 
and  joys.  The  visitor  v\-lio  expects  recognition  may  jjronounce 
the  benediciion.  This  is  better  than  to  put  a  stranger's  voice  into 
the  initial  moments.  If  all  the  devotional  moments  are  used  to 
pick  u])  (he  various  scattered  minds  m  the  audience,  the  sermon 
vill  .-tai-t  v.ith  a  hearing.  An  oi)euing  quietness  must  be  secured. 
Our  fathers  and  mothers  Avere  generally  ti'ained  to  offer  silent 
jirayer  as  they  entered  the  sanctuary.  Some  knelt  by  the  ]-)ew. 
Others  bowed  the  head.  These  customs  might  profitably  be  re- 
vived. A  few  churches  begin  the  hour  with  the  singing  of  the 
doxology."  This  makes  a  unity  at  the  start,  but  the  noise  enaldes 
some  to  eo^•er  conversation.  ]^<Iinds  can  al.-o  more  easily  wander. 
]t  is  more  effective  to  stand  in  ab.^olute  silence  for  two  or  three 
minutes,  Peciuest  every  one  to  stop  wherever  tluy  arc  at  the 
moment,  so  that  there  VN-il!  be  no  moving.  It  is  announced  that 
thi-  silent  time  is  to  be  sjient  by  each  one  mentally  reminding  him- 
self of  the  real  presence  of  Cod.  The  unusual  quiet  stops  minds 
and  brings  near  the  jnirpose  of  the  place  and  hour.  Late  ones 
mi<s  it.  Tardy  ones  find  th(Mnselves  standing  in  the  aisles.  Xoisy 
enes  must  cease,  ^lost  ])eoplc  will  emjdoy  the  time  in  prayer, 
ihus  rarifying  the  atmosphere  for  the  whole  following  period. 
Olose  the  (juiet  moments  with  a  few  sentences  which  thank  God 
for  his  presence  and  the  blessings  possible  for  open  hearts.  Dull- 
spirited  jMople,  under  the  s})ell  of  this  vivid  reminder,  will  be 
aroused  because  thev  do  not  feel  th'*  Guest's  touch,  or  catch  the 


452  Mdhodi^l  Jlcvicw  [May 

aroma  which  exudes  from  his  garmoiits.  The  follcnviiifr  prayer 
may  bo  suggestive:  ''Lord  Jesns,  wo  oome  r.s  thy  di.sci])les.  Wc 
are  gathered  in  th:y  iii.uie.  Thou  hast  prouiiscd  to  be  in  our  midst. 
Thou  art  here.  We  thauk  tliec.  IsJay  avc  accept  the  bread  prof- 
fered by  thy  fingers  and  go  away  refreshed.  Send  us  out  enlight- 
ened. ]\[ay  this  joyful  vision  of  thy  face  live  with  us  all  week, 
for  thy  Father's  gloiy.  Amen."  The  colketion  offers  place  for 
spiritual  culture  through  a  ])rayer.  Money  matters  bother  most 
churches.  Stinginess  has  a  strong  grip.  It  is  difficult  to  shake 
off.  Wc  have  disgraced  religioji  by  calling  church-nioney  raisirjg 
"begging."  Wc  n]ust  lift  it  away  from  this  stigma.  Dollars  mu^t 
be  given  to  Christ,  ]iot  to  the  preacher,  missionary  society,  or 
church  building.  Go]<l  and  silver  arc  so  much  concentrated  service. 
If  given  to  be  seen  by  men,  it  will  not  be  noticed  by  God.  The 
costly  ointment  may  still  be  poured  on  his  feet  if  money  gifts 
express  our  love.  He  who  commended  the  widow's  mite  counts 
every  collection  worthy  his  notice.  "We  may  make  the  offertory  a 
bit  of  heart-Avorshi]).  The  gifted  soloist  is  likely  to  distract  atten- 
tion. If  the  organist  tloes  not  know  the  maste^'-touch,  absolute 
quiet  during  the  passing  of  the  plates  will  do  no  harm.  The 
right  spirit  must  be  introduced  at  the  start.  Many  ministers  offer 
the  prayer  when  the  collection  is  returned.  It  creates  a  giving 
attitude  to  pray  over  tb.c  empty  ]-)latcs,  while  the  collectors  hold 
them,  just  before  starting  out.  It  will  affect  the  gi\  ing.  Here  is 
a  prayer  that  may  help  (o  iriu-trale  its  aim:  '"Our  Father,  we 
thank  thee  for  the  gift  of  ihy  S"n,  Jesus.  We  thank  thee  for  his 
love  and  for  the  transfcu-ming  work  he  has  wrought  in  the  world 
and  on  our  hearts.  ^Ve  than.k  thee  for  the  church  and  the  fellow- 
ship of  saints.  Vrc  thank  thee  for  the  work  committed  to  our 
hands.  Help  us  to  do  our  full  ])art.  Teach  us  how  to  serve.  May 
we  show  our  love  in  the  (jffrrina<  we  now  bj-ing.  Kead  in  our 
hearts  the  deep  and  sacrificing  affection  this  nioncy  expresses,  1k- 
cause  it  is  the  best  vrc  can  do.  I'hf^u  who  didst  sit  over  against  the 
treasury,  sit  here  and  watch  our  gi\ing  and  smile  upon  us  with 
thy  commendation,  and  use  us  for  the  constant  upbuilding  of  the 
kingdom,  in  Jesus's  name,     A  nun." 

Tjie   jnain   prayer   makes  the;  l;'.rge>;t  demands   upon   us.      The 


]OiO]  The  Prcoclicr's  Pulpii  Prayers  453 

posture  is  not  unimportaiit.  So  many  of  the  audience  now  sit 
bolt  upright.  This  is  lc.=s  true  in  the  Soutli  than  in  some  sections 
of  the  Xorth,  ]La>l,  and  \^'ost.  It  is  too  bad  that  the  old-fashioned 
kneeling  custom  has  so  gcno^-ally  disappeared.  It  would  pay  to 
put  in  kneeling  stools  as  exist  in  some  Pennsylvania  ]Methodist 
churches.  It  is  a  beautiful  thing  to  see  a  whole  audience  kneeling 
in  reverent  quietness.  It  would  be  better  to  have  all  stand,  if  it 
aids  the  effort  to  catch  the  thought  and  attention  of  all.  Xo  whisper- 
ing or  noise  can  be  allowed.  If  the  organ  motor  squeaks  have  it 
fixed  on  Monday.  If  human  noise  of  any  sort  is  discovered,  pause 
in  the  midst  of  the  prayer  until  it  stops.  A  clear  and  penetrating 
though  not  a  shouting  voice  will  aid  the  devotional  attitude  of  the 
company.  They  should  hear  the  v/ords  but  not  be  wearied  or 
harrowed  by  the  voice.  The  more  music  in  the  utterance,  the 
better  the  elTcct.  The  sepulchral  sounds  and  whispers  are  a 
hindrajice.  The  tender,  natural  conversation  which  grows  out  of 
the  familiarity  of  a  son  and  father  should  characterize  it.  The 
first  words  I'equire  thought.  It  is  not  necessary  to  repeat  all  tl^e 
titles  given  to  God.  It  is  well  to  recall  the  power  and  dignity 
of  Dciiy,  but  that  may  be  exaggerated.  People  already  put  liim 
loo  far  avray.  High-sounding  terms  cover  up  the  Father  and 
make  him  unreal.  lie  is  interested  in  our  condition.  The  Elder 
Brother  came  to  take  aw:iy  strangeness.  We  are  no  loiiger  foreign- 
ers but  fellow  citizens.  We  are  sons,  and  may  come  as  such.  A 
learned  professor  visited  Emmanuel  Church,  Boston,  broken  down 
with  nervous  prostration.  lie  said  to  Dr.  Worcester,  *'If  you  can 
convince  me  that  God  is  7iiy  Father,  I  will  go  out  of  here  a  well 
man."  Our  prayer  must  reveal  this  intimacy.  It  should  be 
natui-al  and  easy  and  full  of  heart.  Confidence  will  characterize 
it.  Words  are  not  thrown  into  s})ace,  but  they  are  addressed  to 
an  ear  of  sympathy.  The  words  are  not  as  important  as  the 
spirit.  Purinlou-  said,  "Words  are  the  only  thiiigs  God  never 
hears  in  a  prayer,"  Yet  the  vocabulary  strengthens  and  directs 
the  right  hoart  atrilnde.  We  must  recognize  the  personality  and 
nearness  of  Jehovah  if  the  petition  has  any  strength  in  it.  "Lord 
God  of  Hosts,  Oninipotert  Buler  of  the  Universe  and  Conserver 
of  all  forces,  look  on  tlu-se  poor,  finite  weaklings  gathered  in  thy 


451  2fc{ho('/isl.  Jlrrlew  [^^^J 

presence"  may  be  vrell  in  ?oine  eoinpiiiiles;  it  will  not  touch  most 
andicnccs  into  wor^^liipfulness.  Jesn.s  taught  us  to  start  prayer, 
'^Our  It'ather  who  art  in  hcu\en."  That  thought  is  rich.  *^Our 
Father,  we,  thy  deiu'ndeut  eliildreii,  called  to  become  like  Christ, 
wait  in  tli}-  presence,"  has  a  fiiie-heyed  familiarity  that  lends  to 
freedom. 

Prayer  is  not  begj,l)iM'.  It  is  not  an  itemized  list  of  required 
things.  God  is  more  willing  to  give  than  wc  ai-e  to  receive.  lie 
knows  our  needs.  When  we  are  ready  he  will  fdl  us.  All  our 
devotions  aim  but  to  ]iut  us  v.-liere  he  can  bless.  Hence  tbe 
purpose  of  prayer  is  to  fit  ns  so  that  the  Father  can  give  u<,  his 
children,  the  thijigs  we  need.  Thanksgiving  will  occupy  a  large 
place.  It  will  form  an  atmos]">]ijre-clearing  gratilude.  "We  will 
then  behold  past  blessings  hil!i<M-to  unrecognized,  innate  talents 
covered  or  forgotten,  friendly  faces  hidden  by  the  blur  of  our 
despair,  and  open  (hiors  ]n-oiiii-ing  increased  usefulness.  Cc'Unt 
common  condilions — jiealih,  home,  and  hap])iness  period^. 
Itemize  several.  Ti(>'^all  Christian-country  conveniences.  Special 
propitious  local  happeniiigs  may  be  named.  Do  not  forget  recent 
church  blessings  or  oi)portunities  now  opening.  Remember  the 
lieart-feeding  thii^gs,  such  as  friends,  cheer-b ringers,  and  dear 
ones.  An  amazing  li.-t  will  grow  until  the  voice  gets  glad  and 
the  faith  bceouKs  fii'in.  Then  u.-e  jn-omises  by  claiming  comiiig 
events.  Christ  has  a.-surcd  ns  that  be  will  lie  in  the  "midst." 
Rejoice  in  audilde  words  that  he  is  there.  Praise  him  for  sure 
help  in  the  service  and  new  underlakings  soon  to  be  or  already 
entered  in  his  name.  This  is  our  right.  It  i^  evidence  of  an 
inviiu'il)]e  faith.  (Confession  will  naturally  follow  ihe  wonder 
which  grows  in  llie  iih-ry  of  all  b.is  goodness.  Sins  are  not  then  so 
easily  excused.  I'glincss  clothes  them.  Xeglected  grace  explains 
thcjji.  Ail  are  admitted.  That  gains  pardon  and  forearms  for 
the  fnlnre.  False  scll-confidcnce  is  lost.  Failures  stand  out  m 
right  i-elaiions  and  a  .-])nn'ii\u:  dc.-ire  comes  to  correct  them.  Wo 
ask  for  aid  with  a  toachfid  hfai-t.  .Mistakes  are  admitted,  r.ot 
backed  up  by  worse  ones.  We  sit  as  a  much-moved  child  in  the 
presence  of  melting  love,  eager  to  enter  the  huge  life-openings 
before  us. 


]0]0]  The  rnnchcr's  PuJp'd   Praijcrs  4:.j 

Then  may  come  t]ic  exact  petit ioji is.  Wc  arc  ready  for  them. 
His  will  is  our  deliglit.  All  v.'c  ask  is  dei^ired  only  that  vre  may 
make  a  oetlcr  disciple  M'itli  less  .stains  and  failures.  Some  such 
details  as  the  following  will  follow:  '"Uve  iu  our  homes.  Good 
Father.  ]\I::y  our  dear  ones  see  evidence  of  thine  indwelling  in 
our  words  and  vrays.  Enahle  us  to  train  the  little  ones  so  that 
tliey  Mill  gladly  and  lionoraMy  wear  thy  name.  ]\Lake  us  good 
friends  to  folk.  Scatter  cheer  through  us  as  the  spring-coming 
hird  does  by  its  song.  So  sunshine  us  that  vii-tuo  may  get  food 
wherever  wc  go.  "\\'in  sinners  to  hope  and  cleanness  through  the 
beauty  of  thy  face  shining  out  of  u-^.  Saturate  our  church  with 
thy  presence.  Drive  out  all  chilling  cu^^tonis  or  hurtful  nieth<)ds. 
;May  the  stranger,  because  of  our  brothcrliness,  recognize  this 
sanctuary  as  the  Fathei-'s  house.  Scatter  any  selfish  cliques.  Save 
us  from  spending  ourselves  on  the  nnneedfiil.  Arouse  our  whole 
membership  to  service.  Give  food  to  everyone.  Gladdeu  the 
luncly,  aged  ones.  Deliver  those  in  middle  years  from  rutlish 
haliil-;.  Direct  the  v/anning  enthusiasm  of  youth,  llel})  us  to 
be  arms  to  the  children  to  bless  them  in  thy  name.  All  these 
■  things  we  ask  for  all  the  clnirches  who  love  and  exalt  tlie  Chiist  of 
God?" 

Then  will  naturally  follow  the  petitions  for  world-betterment. 
Public  offieials  will  be  rememberedj  not  abused.  ]\[issions  will 
come  to  the  eye.  Locally  known  workers  will  be  named.  Special 
movements  will  be  marked  out.  ]\[any  particular  nuitlcrs  will 
come  up  which  hearty  interest  will  insert  here.  The  close  will 
briefly  recall  again  God's  presence  in  the  room  and  breathe  an 
expectation  of  his  guidance  in  the  whole  content  of  the  coming 
monu.'nt-.  A  fitting  close  may  be;  ''All  our  petitions,  0  Father, 
are  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  man.    Amen." 


<^lCC{!^'j!/r 


456  Mclhodist  Jicvlew  [May 

EDITORIAL    DEPARTMENTS 

NOTES   AND   DISCUSSIONS 


A  BIT  from  Cr.rl^vlo'r;  Sartor  lic-artiis:  "  Tiicrc  is  no  Eeligion/ 
reiterate.^  the  Profc&sor.  Fool !  J  toil  thc-e  there  is.  .  .  .  ]kit 
thou  as  yet  tlanikv-t  in  no  ternple;  joinest  in  no  psalm-worship; 
feclest  well  that,  ^^•}lere  tiicre  i>  no  ministering  prie.-t,  the  people 
perish?  Jlc  of  comforl  !  Tluni  ;!rt  jiol  alone,  if  thou  liave  faith. 
Spake  we  not  of  a  con)nuinion  of  saints,  unseen,  yet  not  unreal, 
accompanying  and  hrotherlike  emhracing  thee,  so  thou  be  worthy? 
Their  heroic  sufferings  rise  uj)  melodiously  togetlier  to  licaven,  out 
of  all  lands,  and  out  of  all  times,  as  a  eacred  Miserere;  their  heroic 
actions  also,  as  a  boundless  everlasting  psalm  of  triumph.  Xcithor 
say  that  tiiou  hast  now  no  symbol  of  the  godlike.  Is  not  God's  uni- 
verse a  symbol  of  ibe  godlike;  is  not  immensity  a  temple;  is  not 
man's  history,  and  ineu's  history,  a  perpetual  evangel?  Listen,  and 
for  organ-umsic  thou  \r[\t  ever,  as  of  old,  hear  the  morning  stars 
sing  together  !'*' 


A  I^EVIYAL  OF  PtELIGIOX^ 

C-^ri:fcl  sludvnis  of  social  tendencies  report  a  reaction  against 
the  prevailing  la.xity  in  conduct  and  o})inion.  This  is  sometimes 
characterized  as  a  moral  renaissance.  It  goes  deeper:  it  is  nothing 
less  than  a  revival  of  religion.  Yet  it  does  not  appear  to  be  the  re- 
sult of  any  of  the  ordin.ary  evangelistic  efforts  or  agencies.  It  is 
springing  up  in  unwonted  })laces,  and  is  finding  utterance  by  unpro- 
fessional and  unfamiliar  voices. 

Anyone  who  has  ears  to  hear  must  catch  now  and  then  in  the 
common  speech  of  men  a  note  of  unusual  seriousness.  Tlie  facts 
which  have  been  coming  to  light  during  the  last  few  years  respecting 
tlic  terrible  infidelity  OTid  abuses  of  power  in  high  places  have  touched 
the  heart  of  the  common  )jian  with  a  sense  of  solidlude.  In  days 
like  these  the  airy  optimism  wliich  con  see  no  perils  in  the  path  of 
the  nation  is  an  impertinence.  Snisible  men  are  not  ashamed  to 
confess  their  fears,  and  in  Ihcii"  sludy  of  existing  conditions  the  truth 

•  Itrpnri ted  from  theCcnturj  .M.ir:n-inc  f'lr  .\pii!,by  pcruiLsHion  of  the  Ccalury  Cunipany. 


1010]  Xolcs  and  Di^cusiions  457 

is  broiiglit  liome  to  tlicm  that  the  romcdy  which  is  needed  is  a  deep- 
ening of  the  life  of  tlie  people — something  organic  and  elemental 
wliich  siiall  change  the  common  currents  of  thought  and  feeling  and 
renovate  the  s})ring?  of  character. 

Xo  doubt  fomo  correction  in  th.e  common  moralities  is  needed. 
To  our  complex  and  cryptic  financial  system  we  must  learn  to  apply 
the  i)rinciplc3  of  ethics;  the  eighth  commandment  needs  a  large  nc^v• 
annotation.  JIumaiPinvention  was  licvor  so  prolific  as  it  is  to-day, 
and  its  resources  have  been  taxed  in  devising  new  ways  of  stealing. 
They  must  be  searcliod  out  and  legibly  labeled:  that  is  the  business 
of  the  lav\-maker?.  But  wlien  all  this  shall  have  been  done,  the  deep- 
est need  of  the  people  will  still  be  unsupplied.  That  is  the  awakening 
in  their  consciousness  of  the  sense  of  the  great  loyalties  on  which  life 
is  built.  Moral  rules  are  not  enough;  what  is  needed  most  is  moral 
motive  power — the  love  of  righteousness,  the  impulse  to  integrity,  the 
cjithusiasm  of  virtue.  And  this,  as  even  the  connncn  man  is  begin- 
ning to  feel,  is  kindled  only  by  religion — by  fellowsliip  and  commun- 
ion willi  that  *'Power  not  ourselves  which  makes  for  righteousness." 

Thus,  even  those  vrho  have  been  supposed  to  be  farthest  from  the 
common  creed  are  clearly  recognizing  that  a  merely  secular  morality 
is  not  enough;  that  there  must  be  something  sacred  and  supreme  in 
it,  else  it  will  have  Utile  meaning  for  us  and  little  power  over  us. 
Dr.  Felix  Adler,  in  his  book  on  The  Eeligion  of  Duty,  in  which  ho 
powerfully  argues  that  duty  must  include  a  religious  element,  says: 
"The  moral  law  is  not  a  convenience  nor  a  convention;  it  is  not  im- 
posed in  order  that  we  may  achieve  happiness  for  ourselves  or  others. 
Tiie  moral  law  comes  cut  of  infinite  dejilhs  and  heights.  There  is  a 
voice  that  speaks  in  us  out  of  the  ultimate  reality  of  things.  It  is  not 
subject  to  us,  but  we  arc  subject  to  it  and  v.e  must  bend  our  pride," 

Dr.  Stanton  Coit,  of  London,  another  leader  of  the  same  school, 
declares:  "The  whole  of  the  moral  law  is  by  no  means  contained 
under  the  conception  of  love  to  one's  neighbor.  .  .  .  H  Christ  meant 
iJighleousness,  when  he  sjjokc  of  'the  Lord  thy  Cod,'  if  ho  meant 
Uighteousness  worshiped  as  the  sovereign  reality  of  life,  we  mu'-t 
assent  to  his  declaration  that  the  first  and  great  commandment  is 
'Thou  shalt  love  th.e  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
toul  and  v.ilh  all  thy  mind.'"' 

All  this  nienns  tl.at  religion  is,  aflor  all,  the  jirincipal  thing;  that 
n  mere  readjustment  of  ethical  fnrmularies  is  not  cnou!:^h ;  thai  a 
doi-prr  note  than  tlii-  must  be  struck  if  we  hope  to  restore  the  lost 


4oS  Mclhodisl  Juviciv  [>^ay 

harmony  to  the  Imman  ?ou]  and  the  social  order.  There  must  be 
something  to  ^vortln]),  somethin-  tliat  kindles  onr  purct^t  love  and 
marshals  our  h.ighcst  loyalties.  Xothing  less  than  this  will  meet  the 
social  need  of  the  time,  which  is  a  call  for  a  radical  change  in  ruling 
ideas,  for  a  nii,qhty  reconstruct ioji  of  ideals,  for  new  conceptions  of 
the  meaning  and  value  o%lifc. 

The  call  is  heard,  as  we  have  already  eaid,  in  many  unexpected 
quarters.  A  daily  newspaper  pu])lislied  in  Wall  Street  declares  that 
there  is  nothing  tb.o  country  needs  just  now  so  much  as  a  revival  of 
old-fashioned  religioji.  A  daily  paper  published  in  the  interior  has 
taken  every  morning  for  a  week  the  subjects  of  its  leading  editorial 
from  the  phrases  of  I'miFs  praise  of  love  as  the  greatest  thing  in  the 
world.  Tlie  last  Christmas  nuinbor  of  a  Western  daily  journal  had  a 
brilliant  editorial  three  columns  long  upon  ''The  Holy  Spirit,"  writ- 
ten by  one  of  the  strong  journalists  of  iVmerica,  and  full  of  the  pas- 
sion of  a  genuine  religious  faith.  These  are  signs  of  the  times.  Men 
are  thinking  seriously  and  feeling  deeply  on  these  great  themes  of  the 
inner  life.  Even  those  wlio  have  not  philosophized  much  about  it 
have  the  imjiression  that  help  must  come  from  this  quarter  in  resist- 
ing the  encroachments  of  the  dominant  materialism,  and  in  bringing 
the  people  back  to  the  ways  of  sanity  and  integrity. 

One  phase  of  this  nvival  of  rr]igio]i  is  significant.  Its  main 
concern  is  less  for  individual  tlian  for  social  well-being.  The  two 
cannot  well  be  separated,  and  doubtless  those  who  arc  earnestly  pro- 
motiiig  it  have  a  consciousness  of  their  ovrn  personal  need  of  deliver- 
ance from  the  engrossing  mammonisni.  But  the  emi)has!3  rests  on 
the  common  danger,  and  tlie  salvation  sought  is  primarily  a  social 
salvation.  Tlie  notion  sei'ins  to  Ite  gaining  that  the  moral  health  of 
the  individual  cannot  well  be  preserved  in  a  fetid  social  atmosphere. 
Heretofore  there  has  been  much  protest  against  any  close  contact  of 
religion  with  business  or  with  politics.  Xow  it  seems  to  be  assumed 
that  nothing  but  religion  can  renovate  brutalized  business  and  corrupt 
politics.  It  is  a  great  enlargement  of  the  popular  conception  of  re- 
lifrion,  and  ousht  to  jrain  for  it  some  new  consideration. 


ADDKESS  AT  A  JIIGII  SCHOOL  CO:\niEXCEMEXT 

The  public  scliools  of  this  country  are  our  proudest  educational 
po.sscssion.  Tlicy  are  more  imiMirlant  tlian  colleges,  schools  of 
science,  acad'^mies  of  art,  and  consirvatories  of  music,  as  slajdes  are 


1 010]  Notes  and  Discussions  450 

jiioro  essential  thnn  luxuries,  a?  bread  is  more  important  than 
meringues  and  Cliarlottes  Russe.  We  ^vou]'j  not  thank  Europe  [o 
ojvo  us  all  the  groat  universities  that  loud  her  learned  soil,  and  take 
n^vay  fi'om  us,  in  e\chan['c,  our  cojumon  seliocls. 

]n  education,  public  or  private,  national  or  individual,  what  is 
elemental  and  fundamental  is  of  prime  importance;  in  buildini^  a 
house  or  an  educ^aiion  only  a  '^haky  and  Jiimsy  superstructure  can  be 
reared  oji  insullicient  foundation.  A  process  of  instruction  which 
pcrjnils  young  num  to  be  reading  Tacitus  aiul  Diodorus  Siculus, 
.dCscliincs  and  Cicero,  Greek  by  the  chapter  and  Latin  by  the  volume 
when  tliey  are  unable  to  write  English  sentences  or  even  words  with- 
out blundering,  is  sadly  imperfect;  and  v>-]ien  a  Doctor  of  Divinity  is 
deficient  in  the  elementary  knowledge  of  synla.x  and  orthography, 
cornel liing  else  besides  his  divinity  needs  doctoring. 

"With  us  in  America  universal  education  is  a  ])ublic  necessity, 
and  therefore  a  public  duty.  For  us  to  doubt  the  possibility  of  uni- 
versal education  is  to  discredit  the  principles  of  our  Constitution,  to 
gurrender  our  faith  iu  successful  democracy,  and  to  renou.nce  the 
blood-bought  traditions  of  our  fathers.  AYe  must  leave  it  to  the  aris- 
tocracies to  contend  tliat  the  liberal  education  of  all  the  people  is  im- 
practicable, M'hile  v,-e  make  all  haste  to  silence  their  cavil  with  prac- 
tical denionstratio]!,  emulating  in  our  eflorls  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
I'rencliman  who  said,  "Sire,  if  it  is  impossible,  it  .dial!  be  done." 

In  a  country  "where  every  men  is  a  participant  in  government 
there  is  need  of  intelligence,  and,  as  the  safety  of  the  Stale  is  abso- 
lutely involved,  it  is  the  State's  affair  to  provide  for  education  in 
order  that  tlie  republic  may  sufi'er  no  detriment  from  the  ignorance  of 
its  citizens.  It  is  the  prerogative  of  the  State  to  compel  education. 
Docs  some  man  say,  "Hold!  Tliis  is  a  land  of  liborly;  there  must 
btj  no  compulsion"?  "We  answer:  Every  goverrnneut  has  an  un(paes- 
t'oiudile  right  to  make  all  laws  an<l  take  all  measures  necessary  for  its 
own  security  and  the  operation  of  its  fundamental  theories;  and  edu- 
enlion  is  a  neces'^ity  for  democracy.  Tlie  kind  and  anmunt  of 
educatio'i  wliich  tlie  State  has  a.  right  to  rcciuire  for  every  child  is 
determinod  by  the  duties  which  tlie  citizen  will  be  obh'ged  to  discharge 
and  the  privileges  lie  should  be  tilted  to  improve.  'Die  cost  of  eduea- 
t!0)i  it  is  just  and  e.\]>cdicnl  to  throw  on  ju'operty,  7-aising  it  by 
taxaii(m;  for  it  is  pr"pei ty  which  is  thereby  defended,  and  wliich  in 
tiie  end  reaps  and  \isihlv  ri']u-e-ents  the  resultant  benefits.  W'hid  is 
tbus.laid  out  uill  be  paid  buck  trnfold.     15cyond  this  power  of  tlie 


4G0  Mclhodlst  nevicvj  [Ifaj 

State  to  compel  the  individual,  our  welfare  requires  and  our  Con- 
stitution allows  a  national  su|)orintendonce  in  the  matter  of  educa- 
tion. It  is  made  the  duty  of  ('ongre?s  to  guarantee  a  republican  form 
of  government  to  all  the  State?,  and  in  this  duty  is  implied  assistance 
to  each  State  in  providing  the  conditions  essential  to  the  maintenance 
of  such  a  form  of  govt-rnment.  Intelligence  is  the  first  of  those  con- 
ditions; and  it  may  be  the  prerogative  of  the  central  government  to 
induce  or  compel  every  State  to  a  thorough  system  of  general  educa- 
tion. A  valid  argumt'iit  can  be  made  for  the  strong  inl'jrference  of 
government,  with  legal  coercion,  to  thrust  every  c])iid  into  the  schools 
and  \i£:Q\i  it  there  for  a  goodly  number  of  the  proper  years  of  its  life. 
Great  degrees  of  pro.-peiily  are  deferred  for  our  country  until,  in 
every  State,  the  rudiments  of  knowledge  shall  be  put  within  the  reach 
of  all  and  made  as  public  as  the  dust  of  the  highway,  which  impar- 
tially blov/5  in  at  the  open  doors  of  poverty  and  sifts  in  at  the  cur- 
tained windov.-s  of  wealth,  settles  alike  on  the  glossy  broadcloth  of  the 
gentleman  and  on  the  sweat-stained  shirt  of  tlic  laborer. 

If  American  education  is  to  be  anything  in  which  we  may  con- 
sistently take  pride,  it  must  be  characterized  by  publicity,  freeness, 
and  universal  prevalence;  vilhcut  these  features  we  can  have  but 
limited  room  for  congTalulation.  It  is  needful  that  the  educational 
system  comj)o:t  and  suit  with  our  other  institutions,  civil  and  re- 
ligious. Xow  tv,o  co]ispicuo\i3  and  ruling  facts  preoccupy  the  ter- 
.ritory  of  the  Xcw  World — Christianity  and  democracy;  between  them 
there  is  eternal  and  natural  harmony.  They  have  one  central  shaping 
principle  in  common;  their  idea  and  end  is,  each  in  its  ov/n  realm,  to 
make  for  all  an  open  way  from  the  lowest  condition  to  the  highest. 
Christianity  aims  to  take  the  most  degenerate  human  being  and  lift 
him  to  the  heaven  of  heavens;  takes  him  from  his  spiritual  beggary 
and  restores  him  to  the  purple  royalty  of  his  birthright;  makes  the 
'•'chief  of  sinners"  the  chief  of  apostles;  and  so  exalts  to  honor  a 
fallen  woman,  breaking  her  alabaster  box  on  the  feet  of  Ilim  who 
had  broken  her  stony  heart,  that,  to  the  end  of  time  and  the  ends  of 
the  earth,  all  ages  and  peoples  must  be  told  the  story  of  her  devotion. 
Similarly,  democracy,  which  is  only  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  applied 
to  government,  having  the  sanie  informing  spirit  as  Christianity,  with 
the  Few  Testament  as  its  inspiration  and  text-book,  aims  to  im- 
prison no  man  in  the  place  or  condition  v>here  he  was  bom,  but  to 
guarantee  him  all  opportunities,  great  as  well  as  small.  Demoerary 
has  actually  constituted  here  that  Utopia  which  liuskin  contiunpt- 


1  ft  ]  0 ]  Notes  a n d  D isci issions  4G 1 

ou?ly  Oescribsd,  in  v/orcls  we  pro-'adly  accept,  as  a  '"'state  of  general 
?fr.'unble,  v.-herc  evcrylody  lia^;  a  cliance  to  conic  to  the  top."  Pre- 
cisily  the  thinoj  in  ubicli  we  glory  is,  that  ours  is  that  wondr-rful 
land  v.lune,  in  civil  aft"airs,  there  i?  a  path  from  the  gutter  -up  to  the 
greatest  guerdon  ever  given  to  grand  endeavor  and  noble  deserving; 
where  Lincoln  goes  from  a  fiatboat  to  the  h(^lm  of  the  ship  of  state, 
Crant  from  a  tann.oj-y  to  the  highest  rank  and  office,  and  ilenry 
Wi]--on  from  a  shoemalcer's  Inp-stone  to  the  Uniled  vStates  Senate  aj\d 
alLca-warJ  to  its  gavel  and  presiding  chair. 

There  i;3  an  inclined  plane  of  possible  ascent  from  the  lowest  to 
the  higliest  places.  The  privileges  of  life  are  not  hrol;en  into  uncon- 
nected tiers  and  flats — landings  with  no  flights  of  stairs  between;  but 
in  the  great,  mnriy-storied  hoii?e  of  society  in  which  we  dv,X'll  there 
are  broad  stairways  from  the  deepest  subeeliars  all  the  way  up  to  the 
broad,  breezy  prospect  of  tlie  hoii-etop.  Kiiskin  once  Vvrole:  "That 
organization  of  society  is  the  best  wliich  gives  to  a  man  the  least  en- 
couragemejit  to  thouglits  of  any  gi-eat  future  advance  in  social  life." 
To  those  in.  the  lower  levels  this  is  a  gospel  of  despair.  Thank 
heaven,  there  is  one  country  in  which  those  who  are  born  at  the  bot- 
tom of  society,  crowded  Ijy  one  another  and  by  the  mass  above  them, 
hear  a  voice  saying,  ''Come  up  higher.  There  is  room  at  the  top"; 
where  all  men  are  at  liberty  to  put  their  capital,  whatever  it  may  be, 
at  interest  in  the  bank  of  public  possibility  and  increase.  Hateful 
and  abhorrent  as  the  word  "Commune,"  has  at  times  been  made,  there 
is  an  ideal  of  comnnmism  for  wliich  we  mighit  well  ]iail  our  colors  to 
the  mast,  content  to  survive  or  perish  with  it^  fate — a  communism 
guaranteeing  to  every  human  being  all  the  wealth,  of  any  sort,  vrhich 
on  a  fair  and  open  field  of  unembarrassed  chances  he  can  lionestly 
v.'in.  For  such  a  communism  we  could  claim  divine  sanction,  since 
it  is  a  distribution  by  the  law  of  proportion  according  to  the  differing 
powers  and  advantages  which  God  himself  has  assigned  to  each 
Ecparate  individual.  Seeing,  then,  that  tliese  two  imperial  and  pe- 
culiar facts  in  our  national  life — Christianity  and  democracy — stand 
out  as  headlands  from  which  we  must  lay  our  course,  it  is  obvious 
tiint  the  syslcra  of  American  education  must  needs  be  adjusted  and 
li'u-inniiizcd,  in  spirit  and  in  form,  witli  them.  Whatever  may  have 
\:'.vn  in  other  tinjes  or  oilier  lands,  it  is  not  fr.r  us,  children  of  the 
Ciirisiian  faith  and  devotees  of  the  ])e<laralion  of  Independence,  to 
bhut  in  intellectual  privileges  behind  high  foncc.-s  made  insurmoun- 
table and  forbidding  with  vpi^w  fringe  of  Krried  spikes,  or  by  stone 


-1<32  Mclhodisl  ntvicic  [Maj 

wall?  villi  unkind  'umniit-riclge  of  broken  glass,  with  heavy  galc^ 
locked  and  Icuded  by  ?ojnc  CV-rbeius  of  a  custode,  but  to  surround 
them  only  with  such  light  inelosurc  as  will  protect  and  preserve  with- 
out prohibiting — fence  enough  to  defend  against  marauding  cattle  and 
the  brainless  brute,  but  not  to  keep  out  any  being  who  has  a  mind 
eager  and  hungry  for  ihc  fruit  of  tlie  tree  of  knowledge;  for  the  glory 
of  this  day  and  land  is  not  in  fences,  but  in  facilities;  not  in  separa- 
tion, but  in  share  a'nd  sympalhy;  not  in  things  which  arc  the  exclusive 
privilege  of  the  few,  but  in  those  which  are  the  broad  profit  and  benign 
blessing  of  the  many.  It  was  feudalism  which  shut  up  advantages 
and  power  in  casiles  on  the  heights,  as  tbc  old  gods  were  said  to  guard 
their  glory  on  tho  summit  of  Olnnpus;  it  vras  the  Dark  Ages  when 
learning  and  knowledge  were  secluded  within  convent  walls  and  the 
men  of  thought  all  lived  and  died  in  cloister  shades. 

All  roads  n^cd  to  lead  lo  Home,  to  the  golden  milestone  at  the 
foot  of  the  Capitoline  Hill;  and  when  our  educational  provisions  are 
complete,  every  country  turnpike  or  byroad  that  passes  the  door  of  a 
common  schoolhouse  in  the  remotest  frontier  will  be  for  all  who 
choose  an  open  highway,  leading  straight  on,  past  the  academy  and 
the  high  school  and  tbe  grammar  school,  to  the  college  and  the  uni- 
versity and  the  highest  educational  advantages  of  the  land.  God's 
will  as  expressed  in  nature  and  tlie  gospel  is  plainly  that  all  great 
benefits  shall  be  on  the  higliroad.  "Only  that  good  profits  which  we 
can  taste  vvllh  all  doors  oitcn.'"  Xature  makes  her  most  precious  gifts 
public  ones — the  air,  the  light,  llie  rain.  She  exhibits  the  sunrises 
and  sunsets  in  the  open  blue-walled  galleries  of  the  sky,  with  no 
charge  for  admission;  and  men  follow  her  divine  example  in  hanging 
the  most  transcendent  pictures — the  Transfiguration,  the  Last  Judg- 
ment, the  Communion  of  Saint  Jerome — on  the  public  walls  of  the 
Vatican,  the  UiTizzi,  and  the  Louvre,  where  every  footman  can  see 
them.  It  is  cheering  to  note,  wherever  it  ajjpears,  tbe  ter.dency  of 
the  times  to  bring  the  privileges  and  endo\\'mcnts  of  the  few  into  the 
possession  of  the  many.  It  is  music  sweet  as  the  songs  of  freedom 
to  hear  the  bonds  of  exclusivcness  snapping  asunder.  Cloistered  con- 
veniences imist  conic  out  and  comfort  the  crowd.  '  No  lad  even,  in 
the  midst  of  a  hungry  multitude,  may  keep  his  five  loaves  and  two 
fishes  to  himself,  but  nuK-t  sutler  tbem  to  be  distributed,  with  miracu- 
lous midiiplying,  to  the  needy  five  thousand,  by  the  hands  of  that 
munificence  v.liich  is  only  God  in  disguise.  We  watch  every  tide  of 
blessing  that  sets  from  above  downward,  from  within  outward,  and 


lOlO]  Kolcs  and  Discussions  463 

are  glad  an(3  groicful  ahoul  it,  for  iti^  waves  nre  teeming  with  hopo 
and  liclp  and  toucliLd  wiili  a  li.>ly  millennial  light.  All  men  have 
right  to  feci  aggrieved  at  the  reserve  which  gloats  over  its  good  things 
in  proud  and  selfish  privacy,  huilds  a  high  fence  around  its  garden  lest 
tlie  wayfarer  should  look  upon  the  flowers,  and  dams  up  the  brooks 
upon  its  premises  lest  they  should  flow  across  the  public  road  and 
lave  the  feet  of  tlie  tired  traveler  and  soothe  his  thirst. 

\\c  can  remember  reading  with  a  heart-leap,  many  years  ago, 
tluit  I'urner's  ^^lave  Ship,"  the  masterpiece  of  that  great  artist,  who 
was  born  in  a  hair-dresser's  home  in  Covent  Garden  and  buried  with 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  in  the  crypt  of  Saint  Paul's,  had  been  landed 
on  our  own.  shores,  but  we  read  with  chagrin  and  jealousy  in  the  fol- 
lowing lines  that  it  v/as  not  to  be  put  on  exhibition,  being  the  private 
jtroperty  of  a  wealthy  American.  ^Yhat  could  it  profit  us  to  know 
that,  somewhere  between  the  two  oceans,  the  finest  water  ever  painted 
on  canvas  was  hanging  on  the  inaccessible  parlor  walls  of  some  gold- 
bouiid  nabob?  John  Euskin  deserved  never  to  be  forgiveji  by  his 
fellow  men  for  his  determination  to  shut  up  his  works  in  one  costly 
edition,  so  expensive  as  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  ordinary  mearis. 
Wlicn  we  heard  of  that  we  said,  "Ah,  well,  dear  l^lr.  Euskin,  we  can 
yet  buy  Homer  and  Dante  and  Shakespeare  for  a  song— and  the  Bible 
is  the  cheapest  of  books." 

That  people  is  its  own  ■^\orst  enemy  v.'hich  makes  books  and 
knowledge,  education  or  art  dear,  or  lays  a  tax  upon  them;  it  would 
do  better  to  scatter,  gratis,  piiges  of  the  best  literature,  broadcast, 
'•ihick  as  auiumn  leaves  that  strew  the  vales  in  A^allombrosa."  We 
would  like  to  lay  on  every  blacksmith's  anvil  a  library  fron^.  the 
primer  to  the  lexicon  and  cyclopedia,  from  the  multiplication  table  to 
the  calculus,  that  he  might  be  Elihu  Burritt  if  he  have  the  brains  and 
the  desire.  What  a  eulogy  was  it  on  the  Bay  State  when  a  Westerner 
could  say,  jocosely,  in  the  United  States  Senate,  that  in  :Massachu5etts 
they  thought  a  man  must  be  a  graduate  of  ITarvard  College  to  be  fit 
for  the  otllce  of  town  constable.  Stripped  of  its  exaggeration,  what 
was  it  but  saying  that  ^Massachusetts  believes  every  ciiizen  is  the  belter 
for  an  education?  And  what  an  honor  was  it  to  Connecticut,  that 
Ju.lge  Daggett,  Kent  Law  jirofi^ssor  in  Yale,  could  say  that  in  a  long 
life  of  judicial  service  he  had  never,  save  in  three  instances,  found 
v.iin.ss  on  the  sjaiul  or  criminal  in  the  dock  who,  being  unable  to 
read  and  write,  had  b.-en  born  in  Connecticut.  There  should  be  in  our 
borders  no  serfdom  of  bodv  or  mind,  no  clanking  chains  for  sinews 


464  Methodist  P.ciiew  [:\ray 

or  soul.?,  no  conipiiUion  of  low  forchcnds  or  crinf^Ing  forms.  And  we 
pray  for  the  liuie  wlieii  a  powerful  system  of  univerj^al  education  shall 
accomplish  the  rcdemplion  and  development  of  American  inteiloet ; 
when  (lie  lowest  mental  destitution  ?hall  hear  the  voice  and  call  of  {\\q 
fairest  promise  tliat  beckons  from  the  heights  of  learning;  when  the 
divinest  cidlurc  shall  turn  to  the  thievi;,h  degradation  which  hangs 
wi-ithing  on  the  cross  of  its  own  ignorance,  and  say,  "Thou  canst 
presently  be  vsith  me  in  my  paradise  of  wisdom";  when  the  desolate 
and  hagg^'d  vraifs  of  l!ie  pavcnient,  the  Arabs  of  the  street,  all  the 
children  of  every  race,  shall  be  handed  on  by  a  constraining  education 
into  years  of  usefulness  and  peace  and  power,  and  the  naked  walls  of 
every  empty  mind  become  garnished  with  the  furniture  of  knowledge 
and  adorned  with  the  tapestries  of  wisdom.  By  making  the  land  one 
great  school  we  will  prevent  it  from  being  merely  a  workshop  and 
forge,  market  and  exchange. 

To  the  scholars  of  this  school  a  few  words  of  counsel  and  cheer, 
which  may  not,  perhaps,  ho.  so  unfitted  to  any  time  of  life  as  to  need 
pardon  of  older  ears  for  being  uttered  in  their  hearing.  Three  things 
may  be  said : 

1.  Be  "WonKEns.  Think  not  of  what  you  are  tn  get,  but  of  what 
you  are  to  do.  Find  vrhat  you  are  fittest  for,  and  do  that  one  thing 
mightily.  There  is  plenty  of  work  to  be  found,  and  some  of  it  so 
urgent  that  men  ought  to  be  breathless  over  it  till  it  is  done.  In 
work  there  is  profit.  It  ought  to  be  a  law  that  if  anybody  will  not 
v>'ork  he  shall  not  cat,  that  tlio  idlers  might  be  starved  into  industrv. 
A  life  of  wholesome  labor,  filled  with  the  daily  activity  which  is  fresh 
at  dawn  and  weary  at  night,  scatters  uncounted  blessings  on  its  wav ; 
around  its  close  is  the  radiance  of  a  beneficent  peace,  and  it  earns  an 
incorruptible  felicity.  In  work  is  safety;  the  idler's  paradise  is  one  of 
the  suburbs  of  tlie  City  of  Destruction.  In  work  is  dignity;  it  were 
nobler  to  be  a  coal-heaver,  washing  the  grime  from  one's  face  with 
Ewcat,  than  a  gloved  gentleman  idling  his  way  thiough  theworld,  nci 
living  but  only  loafing;  better  break  stones  on  the  highway  than  be  a 
brainless  fop,  a  mere  walking  advertisement  of  the  jucrchant  tailors. 
It  were  more  beautiful  and  meritorious  for  a  wonum  to  spend  h.-r 
days  over  the  washtub,  her  arms  in  suds  to  the  elbows,  than  bo  a 
frivolous  butterfly  passing  life  in  foolish  play  and  pride.  The  house- 
maid V\ho  is  washing  front  windows  yonder  with  bucket  and  broom  is 
at  worthier  busincEs  than  the  elegant  lady  who  does  nothing  uiore 
useful  than   to  stand  adiuirin:;l\-  turning  herfcU"  about  before  her 


i;rj(t]  jS'olcs  and  Discussions  405 

mirror,  like  a  fowl  upon  the  s\ni,  or  sit  simpering  at  parlor  wiiidov/s 
to  bo  adiuirccl.  The  more  meeker  of  pleasure  docs  but  cum.ber  God's 
diligent  creulion.  The  droiic  is  a  criminal,  and,  if  nien  were  bee?, 
would  bo  hunted  from  the  hive.  So  vapid  is  the  sluggard's  life,  and 
BO  pernicious  his  example,  that  the  dull  gray  alligator  sleepily  basking 
on  the  ooxy  sh.ore  of  a  Southern  bayou  is  a  less  noxious  and  more 
useful  aaijual,  since  his  hide  at  Icar-t  v, hen  he  dies  may  make  a  pair 
of  boois— which  might  be  put  to  the  excellent  service  of  kicking 
loafers  ou^jj  of  civilized  communities.  Bo  useful  !  Xothing  is  so  mag- 
nificent as  miiiistering,  notliing  so  grand  as  service.  You  ovrc  your- 
self to  your  race  ai\d  to  your  Saviour;  do  not  sink  into  the  sin  of 
Arianins — a  mortal  one — keeping  back  pari  of  the  price.  Do  all  you 
can  to  make  a  sad  world  brighter,  a  bad  world  better;  and  to  this  end, 
since  being  is  greater  and  more  influential  than  doing — 

2.  Be  Noble  and  Tjrue.  Be  noble  in  ihouglii;  for  as  v.c  think 
«o  are  we.  Ideas  make  us.  The  thoughts  on  which  wc  inwardly  feed 
will  give  color  and  quality  to  our  lives.  It  w-as  said  of  the  Venus  of 
Apcllcs  that  her  flesh  seemed  as  if  she  had  been  fed  on  roses;  Cleo- 
patra dissolved  pearls  in  her  wine  to  beautify  hr  complexion;  it  is 
fabu'd  that  Hercules  was  fed  on  the  marrow  of  wild  beasts.  It  is  as 
true  of  the  mind  as  of  the  body,  that  if  put  in  training  for  athletic 
contests,  attention  must  be  given  to  its  diet.  The  soul  must  have  its 
fitting  food,  as  the  silkworm  its  mulberry  leaves,  or  it  cannot  spin 
about,  itself  the  rich  cocoon  of  character.  One  who  does  not  think 
cannot  be  virtuous. 

Be  noble  in  deed;  for  deeds  arc  tlic  blows  v.-hich  make  a  mark, 
acts  are  the  coins  struck  from  the  die — let  your  life  be  a  mint  is.suing 
only  pure  gold  and  silver.  It  is  not  enough  to  think;  blossoms  nmst 
n;akc  fiuit. 

Do  iK)l)!e  deet-ls,  not  ilrcam  thein  nil  day  loiip:; 

So  Khalt  thou  make  life,  dcatb,  aud  llie  vast  forcvtr 

One  grand,  sweet  song. 

Be  noble  in  manners; 

For  manner.^  are  not  idle,  but  the  fruit 
Of  loyal  nature  and  of  uoblf  mind. 

^fanners,  ]ike  morals,  come  only  by  care  and  culture.  Wc  remember 
seeing  by  the  dusky  twilight  of  a  Sabbath  evening,  in  the  rich  gloom 
of  an  old  church  in  N"aples,  the  marble  liguve  of  a  woman  instructing 
n  child,  v,-ith  (his  legend  graven  beneath  the  statues,  ''Educatio  ct 

dijcipliiiii  mores  faciunl.'' 


4CG  Mctliodld  Bcvicin  [May 

Be  noble  in  nord;  for  ^vo^cls  arc  puissant  tliin.f^s.  Speech  is  a 
great  lever  for  good  or  ill.  Language  is  the  substance  of  thought, 
the  image  of  life,  the  revealer  of  secrets,  and  by  its  purity  and  por- 
fectness  is  measured  the  ouliure  of  the  individual  or  the  civilization 
of  the  race.  Purity  of  language  is  one  of  the  moralities,  its 
desecration  is  profanity.  It  is  Avorth  the  v/hile  of  those  \\\\o  speak  the 
language  of  MiUon  a};d  Macaulay  to  speak  it  well.  Let  us  not  ex- 
patriate our  jiiinds  arid  renounce  our  nativity  by  esteeming  other 
languages  }^>tter  th.an  our  own.  ]t  is  easy  to  take  on  foreign  airs  and 
prate  of  the  liiiuid  mu.-:ic  of  the  Italian,  the  flowing  facility  of  the 
French  and  the  ruggi-d  strtnglh  of  the  German;  but  it  is  wiser  and 
more  seemly  to  master  fir.-t  our  own  mother  tongue,  and  be  content  if 
we  may  oidy  spcal:  and  v/iiiu  it  purely  in  the  best  land  under  heaven, 
beneath  the  fmcst  flag  that  tioats. 

It  will  be  a  great  and  gladsome  gain  if  you  can  add  to  the  power 
of  pure  speaking  the  higlier  accomplishment  of  sweet  singing.  A 
new  charm  arrives  when  the  human  voice,  from  weaving  a  plain  web, 
warbles  into  embroideries  of  sound.  Like  prose  thrilling  into  poetry, 
like  plain-clad  queens  putting,  on  their  royal  attire  of  satins  and 
jewels,  like  Cinderella  dressed  for  the  prince's  party,  are  "noble 
words"  wheii  fitted  with  "perfect  music."  Happy  they  who  sing!  It 
is  a  gift  wliicb,  if  they  riglnly  use,  v/ill  be  a  solace  and  a  safeguard; 
they  may  sing  away-  dcs]:)ondency  and  the  devil,  as  Bro\niing's 
Balaustion,  wiih  the  Alki-stis  of  Euripides,  sang  herself  and  her  ship's 
company  into  safety  in  tbo  harbor  of  Syracuse,  and  as  Orpheus  with 
his  music  brought  tlie  Argonauts  safely  past  the  llowery  isle  and  on 
to  Colchis  and  the  golden  fleece. 

AVe  s])oke  also  of  being  irne. 

To  thine  own  self  be  triir>, 
Aud  il  iiiu-;l  follow,  .as  tlio  ni;,-lit  the  day, 
Thou  caiisl  not  then  be  false  to  any  man. 

Keep  peace  with  conscience,  court  its  approval,  for  when  you  have 
lost  this  you  have  nothing  left  that  is  worth  keeping;  without  it  the 
ajjplause  of  men  will  be  a  sound  empty  of  significance,  and  to  "liear 
the  nations  praising''  you  will  be  unsubstantial  and  illusory  as  the 
roll  of  dru]ns  in  tlic  triuiii]ih  of  a  dream. 

3.  Be  STfDKXTS  aUvays,  even  when  you  cease  to  be  selinlars,  and 
master  thoroughly  that  which  you  Irarn,  for  not  what  you  acquire  but 
what  you  assimilate  will  be  of  use.  AMuit  you  learn  should  be  timber 
bviildcd  into  vour  life,  not  lumber  stored  in  vour  mind.    ]f  aou  weave 


101 0]  Xotcs  and  Discussions  407 

kuowlcdgo  with  the  fiLer  of  your  ?oul  ami  knit  it  fast  into  the  struc- 
ture of  your  very  life,  it  shall  be  as  strou'?  wings  with  which  you  may 
fly;  hut  if  you  hold  it  lo  you  by  more  external  adhesion,  fastened 
merely  by  the  perisliable  wax  of  memory,  then  in  your  attempts  to 
mount  in  tlie  open  air  and  sunlight  of  practical  life  you  will  meet  the 
fate  of  loarus,  falling  "with  shattered  pinions  through  the  sun's 
serene  dominions." 

An  education  is  never  finished.  You  have  just  begun,  but  if  you 
have  two  /kcvs — a  knowledge  of  matheuiatics  and  of  the  English 
language— all  studies  are  accessible  to  you.  Before  you  are  ampler 
realms  ajul  fairer  fields  than  you  have  ever  dreamed,  Elysian  Fields 
green  with  the  watering  of  rierian  springs,  where  you  may  pluck  the 
unforbidden  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge,  fruit  which,  if  I  were 
asked  to  name,  I  should  call,  in  Longfellow's  phrase,  "the  golden 
pomegranates  of  Eden" — pomegranates  v,e  may  say  meaningly,  be- 
cause in  knowledge  there  are  many  gifts  and  blessings,  as  in  a  pome- 
granate, if  what  a  poet  says  is  true,  you  have  food,  drink,  odor,  color, 
all  at  once,  for  it  deligbts  the  eye  with  its  veined  beauty,  pleases  the 
smell  wiih  it?  aroma,  allays  thirst  v>ith  its  juice,  and  satisfies  hunger 
with  its  pulp. 

Knowledge  is  poMcr.  Plutarch  relates  that,  when  the  Athenians, 
under  IS'ikias  and  Demosthenes,  marching  against  Syracuse,  were 
defeated  and  taken  prisoners,  all  the  generals  were  put  in  prison  and 
all  the  soldiers  were  branded  in  the  forehead  and  condemned  to  dig 
and  starve  in  the  quarries  of  Epipolae.  Xone  were  spared.  Xo  rich 
man  wo?  advantaged  by  liis  riches,  no  strong  man  by  his  strength,  no 
handsome  man  by  his  beauty;  none  were  spared  except  a  certain  few 
who  could  recite  the  poetry  of  Euripides  the  tragic  poet.  Any  who 
could  repeat  a  chorus  or  a  prologue,  the  passion  of  a  play  or  a  few 
golden  lines,  was  spared.  Jf  he  lay  bleeding  on  the  battlefield  they 
stanched  his  wounds  and  gave  him  drink  and  food;  if  he  were  a  slave 
in  tlie  house  or  in  the  quarry  and  they  heard  him  quote  Euripides, 
they  rose  u])  in  reverence,  bowed  to  him  as  a  master,  bade  hijn  go  free. 

Knowledge,  in  their  case,  was  liberty.  In  every  case  it  is  to  be 
fcought  for  like  a  treasure  and  kept  like  a  crown. 


468  Methodisl  lieview  [Ma^ 


THU   ARENA 


THE  VEILED  PROPHET 
A  BECKNT  incident  between  Ex-Prcsident  Fairbanks  of  America  fiucl 
the  Pope  of  Kciiie,  Italy,  reminds  me  of  an  oid  sloiy,  a  story  told  by 
Feramorz  to  Lalla  Ilookh.  In  this  story  a  youth  kisses  his  loved  sweet- 
heart good-by  and  goes  to  war.  "When  next  he  meets  her  it  is  in  a  place 
of  seductiv^  temptation  to  accomplish  his  fall.  Here  she  tells  how  they 
had  reported  him  dead,  and  she  had  become  the  bride  of  one  whose  face 
Bhe  had  not  seen,  of  wliom  she  ,<^ays: 

"Ilist!   I've   Kocu   to-ni;:ht 
What  angels  know  not  of — so  foul  a  sight, 
So  horrible— O  never  may'st  (liou  see 
What  ihcic  lies  hid  from  all  but  hcli  and  me!" 

The  story  tells  how,  early  in  the  fight  In  which  the  "Veiled  Prophet" 
■vras  to  be  defeated,  he 

P.roallH'd  a  .'^horl   curse  of  blood 
O'er  his  lo?t  tbroiie — then  passed  the  Jihon's  flood, 
And,  gathorini,'  all  whoso  madness  of  belief 
Still  f;aw  a  Saviour,  hi  their  dowufalln  chief, 

prepares  for  defeat.     In  his  flight  he  takes  Zelica— 

O,  not  for  lov.^ — tho  docp--'st  Damned  must  be 
Touch'd  with  llcavon'.s  i;!ory  cro  such  fiend.s  as  he 
Can   ffol    one   glinipy.»   of   lyOvc'.s   divinity! 
But  no,  she  is  his  victim. 

...     to  behold 
As  vrliile  a   pn?:.>  as   Virlne   e'er   uuroll'd 
Blacken,  beiieatli  his  triucli,  into  a  scroll 
Of  damning  sins,  sealrd  with  a  burning  soul — » 
This  is  his  triumph  ;  this  the  .ioy  accuised 
That   ranks   him   anions:   deoiMns   all   but   first! 

As  he  looks  at  tlie  advance  of  the  enfranchising  host  ho  thus  voices 
the  hale  hl.s  silver  veil  but  hides: 

"O  for  a  sv.vcp  of  tlmt  durk  anjiel's  wing 
Who  brushed   the   th.on  andg  of  tho   Assyrinu    king 
To  darkness  in  a  moin-nt,  tlint  I  miglit 
People  hell's  charalf  rs  with  yon  host  to-night!" 

As  the  inevitable  approaches,  and  he  is  In  his  ov,n  city  besieged  by- 
javelins  that  fly 

Enwreath'd  with  smoky  nnn\es  through  tho  dark  sky, 
And  red-hot  globes  that,  oiiening  as  they  mount. 
Discharge,  as  from  u   kindled  napbtlia  fount, 
Showers  of  cons.iiuing  fire  o'er  ail  below. 


lUlO]  The  Arena  469 

he  galbf-rs  about  himself  the  few  faithful  follo-^vcrs  that  reraala  and  BeeluJ 
to  Inspire  them  by  an  address  in  which  he  asks: 

"Have  yon  forr-ot  the  eye  of  glory  hid 
Bpneath  tliis  Veil,  tlie  llasliiiig  of  whoso  lid 
Could,  like  a  siin-stroko  of  tho  dcsort,  withor 
Millions  of  snch  as  yondor  Chief  brinprs  hither? 
I.ons  have  its  lightnings  slcnt — tr>o  long — but  now 
All  earth  shall  feci  th'  unveiling  of  this  brow  I 
To-night 

*  *  u  *  * 

"*   I   will  niysoir  uncurtain  in  your  sight 

The   wonders   of   this    brow's    inefTable   light, 
Then  load  you  forth  and  wirh  a  wink  dispon;e 
You  myriadi,  howling,  through  the  universe!" 

At  tho  feast  of  death,  to  which  he  bids  them, 

Dreadful  it  was  to  sec  the  ghastly  stare, 

The  stony  look  of  horror  and  despair, 

^V!iich  some  of  these  expiring  victims  cast 

"Upon  their  soul's  tormentor  to  ihe  )a^;t — 

"Upon  that  mocking  Fiend,  v,hose   Veil  now  rai.^od 

Showed  them,   as  in   death's  agony  they  ga'/;ed, 

Not  the  loug-prouiised  light,  tlie  brow  whose  licaming 

"Was  to  come  forth  all-conquering,  all-redeeming, 

But  features  horribler  than  Loll  e'er  traced 

On  its  own  1-rood;  no  Deinon   of  the  Waste, 

No  churchyard  Ghoul  caught  lingering  in  the  light 

Of  the  blest  sun,  e'er  blasted  human  sight 

AVilh  lineaments  so  foul,  so  fierce,  as  those 

The  Impostor  now  in  grinnii:g  mockery  shows: 

"There,  ye  wise  Saints,  behold  your  light,  your  f>tar — • 

Ye  icould  be  dupes  and  victim'j,  and  ye  are. 

Is  it  enough?  or  must  I,  while  a  tlirill 

Lives  in  your  sapient  bosom?;,  cheat  you  still? 

Swear  that  the  burning  death  ye  feel  within 

Is  but  tlie  trance  vith  which  Heaven's  joys  begin; 

That  this  foul  visage,   foul  as  e'er  disgraced 

Even  monstrous  man,  is — after  God's  own  tastes; 

And  that — l»ut  see! — ere  I  have  halfway  raid 

My  greetings  through  the  uncoiirteous  souls  are  fled. 

*  *  «  *  » 

For  mc — I  too  must  die — but  not  like  these 
Vile  rankling  things  to  fester  in   the  breeze; 
To  have  this  brow  in'rufilao  triumph  shown 
"With  all  death's  grinniess  added   to  its  own, 
And  rot  to  dust  beneath  t!;e  taunting  eyes 
Of  piavos.  exclaiming,  'There  Lis  Godship  lies!' 
No — cMirscd  laccl — since  first  my  soul  drew  brcatb 
They've  been  my  dupes,  and  shaVt  be  cv'n  in  death. 

*  *  *  *  « 

So  shall  tb.-y  build  mo  nllars  in  their  zeal 

Where  kuav.s  shall  minister  and  fools  shall  kneel; 


470  McihocUd  lie  view  []\Iaj 

Where  Faith  may  mutfor  o'er  }ier  mystic  spoil 

Written  in  MikhI— and  I'iwlry  may  swell 

The  sail  he  s|)rea(I.s  for  lleaveu  with  blasts  from  hell! 

So  shall   my  hanuor  through  long  ages  he 

The  rallying  si^in  of  fraud  and  anarehy  ; 

***** 
like  me 


Kov.-,  mark 

how   rendu 

y  a  wretch 

In  one  boh! 

p!nn-e  cui 

iiin.Tices   1> 

So  ends  l]ie  story  of  "The  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khovassan";  a  story  always 
worth  the  reading. 

AVe  are  indebted  to  two  Americans  for  a  monieritary  vision,  of  tl:e 
face  of  the  Veiled  Pro'pliet  of  the  Tiber.  Archbishop  Irehnnd — first  not 
foi'  precedence'  sake,  hut  1o  cin;ihasize  the  better — with  all  the  dexterity 
of  trying  to  set  one  sect  a;;ainst  the  other  lifts  the  veil  from  this  ancient 
face.  Ancient  indeed  it  is;  it  is  the  face  of  "Hildebrand"  himself.  Ec- 
clesiastical arrogance  and  papal  pretense  are  as  jtrominent  as  ever.  Some 
things  never  change,  though  tliey  are  uoL  eternal;  swept  ou  by  the  years 
they  remain  what  they  always  have  been.  One  thinks  of  the  other 
"Veiled  Pro])hct,"  of  v.iiom  it  was  said: 

As  a  grim  tigiT,   whom  the  torrent's  nu'ght 
Surprises  in  some  pareh'd  ravine  at  night, 
Tnrns,  even  in  drowning,  on  tlie  wrelehed  flocks 
Swept  with   him  "in    that   snov,-nood   from   the  rocks, 
And  to  the  la'^t,  devouring  on   lis  way, 
Pdoodi'\s   the  stream  le-  hatli  not  power  to  stay. 

Long  after  Popeship  hr;s  bec^n  buried,  by  tlie  outgrown  tlioughts  of  men, 
deeper  than  any  Babylonian  city  was  ever  covered,  some  enterprising 
archaeologist  will  "find"  this  incident  imbedded  in  the  strata  of  the 
twentieth  centnvy,  and  will  thereby  prove  to  the  enlightened  race  that  in 
the  year  of  Grace  ninciecn  hundred  and  ten  papal  claims  were  as  arro- 
gant as  they  had  ever  hern.  AVhilo  the  nrchhishop  holds  up  the  glittering 
veil  look  at  this  face,  America:  and  remember  that  it  smiles  on  nothing 
unless  it  is  in  accord  with  the  blasting  dream  of  Gregory  VII.  To  make 
the  See  of  Rome  supreme  witlun  the  church,  and  the  church  lord  over 
the  state,  is  still  the  -sot  purpo.^e  of  this  ancient  face.  TvOok  at  it!  Look 
at  it  as  long  as  the  arch.bislioi)  will  hold  up  the  veil;  then,  turning,  look 
at  your  liberties 

as  if  Cod  had  given 
Nfitight  el^e  worth  Ioul;ing  at  ou  \h\-i  side  heaven. 

All  the  faces  of  all  the  worl.l  you  may  see,  open  and  free,  on  the  streets 
of  any  large  city  in  America.  No  face  lil.e  this  in  all  the  world.  No 
wonder  that  in  Rome  they  ha.sten  to  drop  the  'veil."  Remember  the 
"veil"  does  not  change  the  features. 

We  arc  indebted  also  to  another  American — Mr.  Fairbanks;  God  In- 
crease his  kind!  A  man  v.ho  does  not  h:'.ve  to  be  told  he  is  human.  At 
the  call  of  liis  free  fellov.t;  he  steps  into  power;   perform.s  his  task  like  a 


3010]  The  xircna  47I 

man,  making  no  claims  to  divino  Biiperiority;  steps  back — no!  steps  on 
iuto  private  life  and  goes  to  porform  tbe  act  of  liis  career  in  refusing  to 
stand  in  the  snow  at  Canossa,  and  performs  a  braver  feat  than  did  Henry 
IV  in  taking  Rome  and  besieging  Gregory  in  the  castle  of  Saint  Augelo. 

Look  at  this  face.  There  is  nothing  that  needs  covering  here.  No 
"veil"  hides  liis  purpose!  He  will  speak  vherc  he  will  speak— will  be  a 
man.  He  is  an  American,  and  if  as  such  the  Veiled  Prophet  of  the  Tiber 
will  not  receive  him  he  will  not  be  received!  Look  at  this  open  face 
and  rejoice  that  Zuleika's  charms  were  lost  on  the  Joseph  of  the  American 
people.  God  made  the  face  to  bo  seen,  not  covered.  The  freedom  of  the 
open  is  t*ie  spirit  of  America;  against  this  spirit  the  Veiled  Propliet  of  the 
Tiber  speaks.     "Which  vvill  America  follow?  F.  E.  Stockdal!;, 

Asbury  Park,  Nev/  Jersey. 


THE    PRE-UAPHAELITES 

Aftkk  the  centuries  of  formalism  and  convention  following  the  Re- 
naissance there  came  to  art  a  movement  full  of  originality,  siurplicity,  and 
unaffected  truth.  Heading  this  impulse  were  four  young  painters — 
Rossetti,  jMillais,  Holman  Hunt,  and  Woolner — men  who,  first  since 
Raphael,  Vxcre  experiencing  the  delights  of  freedom  from  hampering 
fears  of  propriety;  who  first  were  beholding  beauty  uutrammeled  by 
rules;  and  who  first  were  realizing,  with  Ruskin,  that  "the  butterfly  is 
independent  of  art."  They  were  the  founders  of  the  Pre-Raphaelite 
Rrotherhood.  The  work  of  the  Pre-Raphaelites  embodies  one  of  the 
greatest  revolutions  in  moclcrn  art.  The  former  school  taught  technique; 
the  Pre-Raphaelites  taught  spirit.  Followers  of  long-established  theory 
were  prone  to  subordinate  a  v.ork  to  its  creator;  the  Pro-Raphaelitcs 
lost  themselves  in  their  labor.  The  tyrant.  Authority,  declared:  "V.'ithin 
these  bounds  dweileth  beauty;  all  without  is  unworthy  of  art."  The  Pre- 
Raphaelites  said  to  one  another,  "Go  to  nature  tiustingly,  rejecting  noth- 
ing and  selecting  nothing."  The  critics  would  have  made  the  bultcrily 
soar  in  sweeping  curves — lighting  only  among  the  orchids.  The  Prc- 
llaphaelites  permitted  it  the  freedom  of  its  flitting  fancy,  and  were 
delighted  when  it  set  the  clover-hearls  to  nodding.  Pre-Raphaelite  art  i? 
marked,  particularly,  by  an  unfailing  fidelity  to  truth  and  a  diligent 
attention  to  detail.  Mark  the  hand  of  Rossetti,  in  the  "Blessed  Damozel." 
whore  as  much  care  has  been  exercised  in  scattering  the  wi)id-swcpt 
leaves  beneath  the  trees  as  in  lighting  the  stars  in  the  maiden's  hair. 
Kach  blade  of  grass  is  growing,  and  eaeh  wayward  tress  is  vibrant  with 
life.  Note  Burne-Jones  in  "The  Angels  of  Creation,"  where  every  bit  of 
drapery  on  the  slender  forms  and  every  feather  in  the  great  wings  has 
a  reality  of  existence  and  a  boauty  of  expression  in  and  for  itself.  Yet 
none  of  tluse  effects  is  produced  with  mechanical  exactness,  but  rather 
with  fidelity  to  the  mind's  i;nprossion,  translated  though  it  be.  Rosscltl 
and  his  colleagues  did  not  study  anatomy,  geology,  nor  botany,  to  secure 
perfection  of  l^rm;   at  times,  consequently,  their  drawing  was  defective. 


<iT2  Methodid  Jlcricw  [Mn.j 

They  (lid  study  thing;;  as  they  saw  thorn,  however,  and  thus  were  ab!e 
to  breathe  into  all  their  painting  the  sinrit  of  truth  and  purity.  They 
loved  beauty  with  sincere  affectiOTi,  loved  it  in  the  dunty  weeds  at  the 
roadside  quite  as  much  as  in  the  well-groomed  lawn  of  an  Italian  garden 
—and  their  butterfly  was  found  nuttcring  in  the  golden-rod  of  the  meadow 
uo  less  than  among  the  roses  on  the  trellis. 

The  object  of  the  Pre-Raiihaclite,  however,  v/as  not  to  secure  exactness 
in  the  treatment  of  detail,  but  to  attain  purity,  revercnco.  and  chastity  iu 
expression.  Unlike  tlio  realist  and  the  impressicnist.  ho  portrayed  ideals, 
and  they  were  ideals  of  thotight  rather  than  ideals  of  form.  His  figures 
were  oSgen  drawn  with  exaggeration,  yet  they  possessed  a  radiant  power 
and  effect  in  their  soulfulncss.  His  v/omen,  perchance,  had  long  necks, 
extravagantly  slender  hands,  and  lips  of  unnatural  fullness;  yet  they 
nianifoPted  a  sincere  spiritual  beauty  such  as  the  aposLits  of  classicism 
could  never  produce.  The  Pre -Ptaphaeiite  painted  what  he  saw— all  of 
it,  and  not  more— but  he  .saw  Avith  the  eyes  of  a  poet.  He  had  no  tricks, 
no  illusions,  no  crafty  devices,  w^ith  which  to  reenforce  his  art.  His  was 
a  style  of  childlike  simplicity — the  critics  called  it  "puerility."  He  did 
not  hunt  the  buttertly  of  beauty  with  a  net  and  a  tin  box,  to  dissect  it 
with  pins  under  a  micro.^cope,  but  sought  it  living,  full  of  vagrant  v.Oiims, 
and  "happy  in  the  sunshine."  His  art  was  a  living  art,  mysterious  and 
divine.  Thus  the  Pre-Rap)iaelites  broke  forth  from  the  bonds  of  tra- 
dition and  began  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  painting.  Modern  art  Is 
more  sane,  perhaps— more  convincing,  certainly— and,  no  doubt,  truer  to 
life  and  thought.  Yet  without  their  efforts  it  had  never  been  so.  It 
was  their  independence  which  gave  freedom  to  the  realist  and  daring  to 
the  impressionist.  Even  the  reactionary  soul  of  Y.'histlor  could  not  have 
striven  alone  against  the  authority  of  old  traditions.  The  Pro-Raphael  ilea 
were  necessary  to  teach  a  school  of  hidebound  critics  that  the  highest 
art  is  the  expression  of  beauty,  whether  of  ideals  or  of  form,  and  that 
"the  butterfly  is  independent  of  art,"  though  art  must  forever  attempt  its 
C'-^Pturo.  B.  Z.   STAMrAUQH. 

Palmer,  Nebraska. 


RELATION  OF  PISJIOPS  TO  THE  GENERAL  CONFERENCE 
I.\  Brother  iMiller's  contention  for  the  bishops  as  nipmbors  of  the 
General  Conference,  the  case  now  Is  certainly  not  one  of  opinion  but  of 
law.  What  saith  the  law?  In  ISOS  the  law  defining  the  composition  of 
the  General  Conference  was  clianged,  making  the  General  Conference  a 
delegated  body,  chosen  by  the  members  of  the  Annual  Conferences.  This 
new  law  distinctly  and  specifically  declares  as  follows:  "The  General  Con- 
ference .shall  be  composed  of  one  member  for  every  five  nieiubers  of  each 
Annual  Conference."  If  the  bishops  are  not  members  of  Annual 
Conferences,  they  aro  not  eligible  to  membership  in  the  General  Con- 
ference. Under  the  law  as  it  now  is,  the  only  v/ay  to  got  the  blshopa 
Into  the  General  Conferences  iu  to  first  gel  theiu  into  the  Annual  Conference. 


iT'lOJ  Thr  Arena  47:. 

Membership  in  the  General  Conferonce  is  now  specifically  limited,  rus 
regnrtls  ministers,  to  mcmb.?rs  of  Annual  Conferences.  Hence  the  Annual 
Conference  may  not  go  outsiue  of  its  own  members  for  General  Conference 
delegates.  This  may  be  a  misfortune  to  some.  But  if  outsiders  wish  to 
get  into  the  General  Conference,  they  will  first  have  to  get  into  the 
Annual  Conference.     This  is  the  only  door.  J.  C.  AKiiCCKi.E. 

Columbus,  Ohio. 


membt'-:rsiiip  of  a  bishop 

Ax^ddilional  suggestion  lo  Dr.  R.  T.  Miller's  learned  article  on  "The 
Bishop  a  Member  of  the  General  Cojiference— A  Study."  The  evidence 
of  a  laymaji's  membership  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  is  in  the 
"Church  Records"  of  the  local  church  with  v.'hich  he  is  connected.  The 
proof  of  a  ininister's  membership  is  in  the  minutes  of  an  Annual  Con- 
ference. That  a  bishop  is  a  member  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Churcli 
is  shown  in  the  minutes  of  the  General  Conference.  For  his  Christian 
and  Methodist  character  the  layman  is  amenable,  wherever  ha  may  be, 
to  the  local  cliurch  with  Avhich  his  name  is  recorded.  The  minister  is 
amenable  to  the  Annual  Conference  for  his  Christian,  Jilethodist,  and 
ministerial  character.  The  bishop  is  amenable  ultimately,  for  his  Chris- 
tian. Methodist,  ministerial,  and  episcopal  character  to  the  General  Con- 
ference. The  layman  has  a  right  to  vote  and  hold  ofiice  in  the  local  church 
with  which  his  membership  is  recorded  and  to  which  he  is  responsible. 
The  minister  has  the  same  rights  in  the  Annual  Conference.  Certainly 
analogy  strongly  teaches  that  a  bishop  has  membership,  vith  all  its  priv- 
ileges, in  the  General  Conference,  in  who?e  minutes  his  membership  in 
the  church  is  recorded,  and  to  which  he  is  amenable.  That  a  man  can 
bo  a  member  of  the  church  in  general,  yet  not  a  member  of  any  local 
church,  Dor  of  any  of  the  Conferences  of  the  denomination,  is  certainly 
an  anomaly  that  ought  to  be  authoritatively  denied  or  corrected. 

Hr.NKY    COLLMAN-. 

Milwaukee,  'Wisconsin. 


47-1  Melhodid  luvunv  [^^Xv 


THE  ITIITE!  RANTS'  CLUB 


THE  rREACTTKR  AND   SOCIAL  SCIEXCE 

One  of  the  most  intoiestinc;  devolopincnis  of  rac^lprn  life  is  the  in- 
creased atleiitiou  that  is  being  iiaid  to  the  great  social  movements  of  the 
time.  To  all  appearanee  the  individual  is  rapidly  disappearing  in  tho 
mass,  and  much  of  the  work  for  human  betterment  is  being  carried  on 
not  through  individuals  but  through  organized  forces.  It  is  assumed  that 
men  mK;t  now  be  considered  in  their  organized  social  relations  if  ono 
would  lift  them  into  the  best  physical  and  ethical  life.  It  is  not,  however, 
of  the  individual  side  of  Christian  activity  that  we  are  treating  at  this  time. 
The  conception  of  tlio  writer  is  that  the  individual  must  ever  be  promi- 
nent because  he  is  the  controlling  factor  in  the  movements  cf  the  masses 
in  proportion  as  he  may  be  qualified  in  character  and  ability  for  the  task. 
We  v.-ill  not  claim  that  scr-ial  science  is  being  ovorpressed.  In  tho  past 
it  has  not  been  pressed  sufuciently.  It  is  certainly  necessary  to  meet  com- 
pact social  forces  wliich  are  hurtful  by  compact  social  forces  which  are 
helpful.  Organized  philanthropy  has  advanced  very  rapidly  v,-ithin  recent 
years.  Some  are  claiming  that  organized  charities  enable  them  to  escape 
the  embarrassment  of  individual  inquiry  and  individual  service  for  the  help 
of  the  unfortunate.  This  asi^cct  of  their  advantages  is  shown  in  the  fol- 
lowing extract  from  a  report  of  the  president  of  a  hospital  society  in  v/hich 
he  pointed  out  the  advantages  which  the  hospilal  would  gain  by  joining 
the  incorporated  Federation  of  Charities.     lie  said: 

There  aro  a  number  of  pr^oplo  who  do  not  yet  understand  tho  praclicnl 
beuefits  resultinif  from  ftJoraiiuu.  Il  is  a  scioiuiflo  and  up-to-date  nielhod  of 
doing  colloclivcly  what  has  boon  done  liorctoforo  by  individual  effort.  In  othm* 
words,  it  is  collective  stroni;ih  ai;ainst  individual  strouirHi.  It  prevent.^  needless 
duplication  and  avoids  injudicious  charity.  Wc  are  all  tired  of  being  exploitrd 
and  pestered  by  tho  numerous  and  constantly  increasing  number  of  smaller 
charities  which  eke  out  a  precarious  existence.  The  constant  appeals  to 
purchase  tickfts,  for  donations  to  fairs  and  the  numerous  other  devices  in 
order  to  extract  money  are  gottinp:  to  be  very  burdensome,  and  the  aiuioyance 
keeps  pace  witli  the  increase  of  pojmlation.  Tlio  federation  will  do  away  with 
all  these  individual  ai:d  burdensome  importunities  for  aid.  Anoilnn-  phase  of 
the  federation  v.hieh  needs  explanniiou  i.s  that  the  federation  will  not  intevfeie 
with  the  mannr'ei.ient  of  the  alliliatcd  institutions.  The  autonomy  of  each 
remains  as  at  i.ro<.ut.     No  institution  will  lose  its  identity. 

We  cannot  b&livvo  that  organized  workers  would  urge  this  as  a  proper 
argument.  U  would  be  a  great  danger  to  the  serial  welfare  if  any  system 
of  organized  Christian  work  i^hould  wealcen  iu'iividual  efforts  for  human 
welfare. 

It  is  further  assumed  that  the  chief  work  of  reform  is  the  betterment 
of  conditions,  and  that  when  the  environments  of  the  people  are  made 
better,  the  many  evils  under  whieli  they  groan  will  disappear.  The  gen- 
eral discussion  of  these  questions,  however,  involves  the  underlying  thought 


J  it  10]  The  llincvanW  Clu.h  475 

that  lh2  difficuUics  and  woes  cf  men  are  lar.^cly  temporal,  that  they  have 
to  do  Willi  food  and  driiilc  and  raiment,  and  that  by  placing  within  tiieir 
roach  galk-iics  of  uit,  let-iurcs  on  fccicntific  subjects,  the  care  of  health, 
they  have  restored  man  to  that  condition  of  happiness  for  v.'hich  he  v/as 
destined.  This,  if  not  slated  in  form,  is  implied  in  the  fact  that  few  other 
means  aro  suggested  as  to  the  mode  of  talcing  tlie  degraded  mnsscs  and 
lifting  them  up  into  good  citizens  as  husbands  and  wives  and  fathers  and 
mothejs.  With  all  movements  for  human  welfare  the  minister  of  Christ 
Is  in  hearty  sympathy.  There  can. he  no  true  pastor's  heart  that  does  not 
boat  in  harmony  with  every  effort  to  surround  all  men  and  women  and 
childrei^  with  the  physical  comforts  and  with  every  opjiortunity  for  their 
best  development.  There  is  one  fact,  however,  which  the  preacher  cannot 
ignoie  if  ti  ue  to  his  mission:  it  is  tlie  fact  of  sin.  A  large  part  of  tlic 
physical  burdens  under  which  people  groau  is  not  due  primarily  to  their 
surroundings  but  to  their  propensities  toward  that  v^•hich  is  wrong.  Their 
environment  did  not  create  their  propensities;  it  helps  them  on,  increases 
them.  Bi^t  the  remedy  for  all  the  v.crld's  ills,  the  fundamental  one,  is 
fome  method  to  reach  a  v.-orld  of  sin.  Sin  is  disobedience  to  God.  "The 
liar  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom."  "Fear  God,  and  keep  his 
commandments:  for  this  is  the  whole  d)ity  of  man."  \Yhen  man  ceases  to 
fear  God,  and  does  not  recognize  himself  as  a  breaker  of  his  law  and  a 
sinner  ai^ainst  his  Fatherhood,  the  way  is  open  for  all  sorts  of  evil  ex- 
cesses. The  rescue  of  men  and  women  from  sintul  courses  is  accoinplishcd 
by  the  ])ower  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  "NYa  sometimts  sing  "F.ut  power  divine 
can  do  the  deed,"  and  this  is  the  heart  throb  of  our  Christian  thinking. 
Abfiolute  reliance  on  huinan  agencies,  however  good  they  may  be  and 
liov.-ever  eft'ective  thqy  may  be  for  a  time,  cannot  effect  a  permanent  cure. 
The  work  they  accomplish  is  external.  Out  of  the  heart  proceed  evil 
thoughts  and  wrong  actions;  out  of  the  heart  must  proceed  the  noblo 
th.oughts  and  Godlike  actions.  The  appeal,  therefore,  of  the  minister  of 
Christ  must  be  to  the  heart;  it  must  be  accompanied  by  the  teachings  of 
the  gospel.  No  teachings  for  sociological  purposes  have  ever  ecpialed  those 
of  tho  Ivlasler,  and  no  sociological  law  is  so  p.otent  as  this:  '"Tliou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself." 

Tiio  Christian  pastor  of  to-day,  then,  should  first  get  a  clear  knowl- 
edge of  sociological  conditions.  The  facts  are  being  ascertained  by  the 
various  agencies  which  are  engaged  in  social  betterment;  they  are  being 
tabulated  and  are  oiien  for  the  inspection  of  all.  The  minister  should  not 
be  Ignorant  of  those  things;  he  should  know  the  world  in  which  he  lives 
and  the  people  among  whom  ho  works.  This  should  especially  be  (he  case 
with  the  young  minister.  He  ought  to  know,  not  necessarily  by  pcri-'ona! 
contact,  but  by  acrpiaintanco  with  the  litoratuio  and  from  all  sources  at 
his  di.;posal,  the  conditions  of  men  and  women  among  who:u  ho  works. 
It  docs  not  follow  that  only  those  who  have  lived  in  tho  social  conditions 
from  whiih  they  desire  to  rescue  people  are  necessarily  the  be.-t  workers 
to  rescue  the  jierishiug.  Rome  of  (he  most  devoted  have  been  (lio^^e  men 
and  women  who  have  never  i-.ssociatod  with  the  degradations  which  they 
iiiv  trying  to  overcome,  but  they  have  become  acquainted  wiih  (!;cm,  anj 


476  McllioJisl  Hccicw  [^Iny 

have  wi]liiig!y  p':>ced  tlioiasolvcr,  by  tlieir  side  and  given  thera  the  helping 
hand.  The  Christian  Church  should  do  ils  part  in  social  amelioration; 
it  should  not  leave  it  lo  non-Christian  organizations  or  to  ethical  societies. 
These,  however,  are  not  to  bo  coudeniiied.  'Hie  church  has  no  need  to 
envy  those  outside  her  pr.le  •svho  want  to  make  men  better.  The  desire 
to  benefit  humanity  did  not  originate  with  them:  it  came  from  the  Christ, 
"whcra  we  serve,  whose  influence  is  now  permeating  our  society  and  is 
the  unconscious  power  behind  all  these  beneficent  social  niovementB.  The 
Church  of  Christ  or  her  ministers  cannot  bo  displeased  with  those  who 
under  other  names  and  other  forms,  and  even  forgetting  the  obligalioa 
that  they  have  to  Clirisi,  do  the  work  which  Christ  and  his  church  want 
to  be  don5?  A  cordial  harmony,  tlion,  ^vilh  all  that  would  do  good  is  one 
of  the  great  needs  of  this  age. 

The  minister  who  would  render  tlie  best  social  .'^.ervice  mu-st  never 
forget  that  the  highest  achievement  for  the  social  life  is  to  be  wrought 
cut  through  leading  the  lost  to  Christ  and  bringing  them  to  a  knowledge 
cf  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  This  is  so  fundamental  that  we  must  pre- 
sent a  protest  again.~t  the  church's  omission  of  her  great  message  that 
"Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,"  and  must  main- 
tain that  the  only  real  salvation  of  our  race  as  well  as  of  individuals  is  to 
come  through  the  teaciiing  and  inspiration  of  the  Master  of  us  all.  There 
must  be  no  evasion  cf  this  duty.  This  does  not  mean  the  carrying  into 
social  work  the  peculiarities  cf  individual  sects,  but  the  carrying  into  all 
social  movements  the  spirit  of  the  gospel,  telling  the  world  the  story  of 
redemption,  assuring  all  who  hear  that  there  is  One  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  all  who  come  unto  God  by  him.  "This  is  a  faithful  saying,  and 
wortliy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Ciirist  Jesus  came  into  tlie  world  to  save 
sinners";  "the  Son  of  man  is  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was 
lost."  Forgetfulncss  of  this  is  wrong  alike  to  the  souls  committed  to  the 
church  and  to  the  state  as  well,  for  a  successful  state  and  a  high  civic 
life  are  only  possible  through  men  and  women  consecrated  to  the  highest 
ideals  and  noblest  s-rvice  through  faith  iu  Jesus  Christ.  He  taught  that 
he  who  would  be  chiefcst  among  men  must  be  the  servant  of  all.  This 
great  social  movemetit  in  its  relation  to  Christianity  requires  the  wisest 
thought  and  the  most  prudent  action.  The  preacher  should  be  the  fore- 
most in  social  betteimcnt;  there  is  no  wrong  which  he  should  not  try  to 
redress,  there  is  no  vice  which  he  should  not  attempt  to  remove,  there 
is  no  sorrow  which  he  .should  not  try  to  heal,  there  is  no  tear  which  the 
Church  of  Christ  should  not  haste  to  w!i)e  away.  This  is  the  mission  of 
the  preacher  in  his  relation  to  our  social  life,  and  a  mission  which  he 
cannot  avoid  without  injury  to  the  highest  interests  of  the  human  race. 

Social  science,  however,  has  not  yet  advanced  to  a  position  when  it  is 
able  to  give  laws  to  the  ethical  and  social  life  of  the  world.  It  is  only 
beginning  its  mission  and  should  bo  held  to  its  proper  limitations.  It 
proposes  to  rest  for  Its  conclusions  upon  deductions  growing  out  of 
the  facts  as  they  appear  to  the  Investigators.  These  facts  are  so  varied 
and  complicated,  and  often  mlsintcri)reted,  that  they  have  not  yet  be- 
come, and  may  never  become,  authoritative.     There  are  certain  questions 


1910]  The  nincrnnls'  Cluh  477 

on  which  social  science  cannot  speak  with  authority,  certainly  not  when 
Ihcy  are  opposed  to  the  clear  teachings  of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  There  are 
Eorac  sius  in  social. life  which  are  not  even  debatahle  in  Christian  circles. 
To  discuss  them  i.s  in  a  measure  to  enccurace  tlieui.  All  the  questions  of 
home  life,  and  the  laws  governing  it,  though  they  may  be  the  questions 
of  pocicloi^ical  investigation,  are  not  subject  to  the  ever-varying  deduc- 
tions of  social  science.  On  these  fundamental  questions  the  preacher 
must  appeal  to  the  authority  of  Christ,  and  tliat  authority  is  final.  Tiie 
kingdom  of  Cud  will  not  be  brought  about  by  securing  for  men  pure 
water,  good  air,  comfortable  houses.  They  arc  helpful  but  not  fully  ade- 
quate to  the  task.  These  in  their  fullness  are  the  results  of  the  kingdom 
of  God,  -^ich  is  "righteousness  and  peace  a.nd  joy  in  the  Holy  Gho.st." 
"The  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you."  When  this  kingdom  is  cst:;ldished 
in  the  hearts  of  men  through  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  and  the  purification 
of  the  Holy  Sj-irit,  it  will  produce  these  environments  of  men,  biingiug 
in  a  condition  of  comfort  and  happiness  which  all  lovers  of  man's  welfare 
are  aiming  to  produce.  The  preacher  as  a  social  reform.er  must  begin  at 
tho  right  point.  His  efforts  for  the  betterment  of  humanity  must  procee  1 
in  tho  order  in  which  they  appear  in  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  Paul's  uvr-thod 
is  a  true  pattern  for  him  to  follow.  Jesus  was  himself  the  greatest  social 
reformer  humanity  has  knov.n,  and  his  message  to  the  weary  world,  to 
those  who  bear  its  burdens  and  feel  its  sorrovrs,  was  and  is,  "Come  unto 
me,  all  yo  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  John 
Wesley  follov.ed  the  method  of  Christ;  he  Avas  not  only  a  great  evange- 
li-st,  rescuing  men  from  sin  and  leading  them  to  holiness,  but  he  was  a 
groat  social  reformer  and  wrought  for  the  physical  well-being  of  humanity 
in  a  way  which  has  influenced  the  church  ever  since.  He  began  his  mis- 
sion by  preaching  "the  washing  of  regeneration  and  the  renewal  of  the 
Holy  Ghost."  The  Holy  Club  of  O.xford  may  well  serve  as  a  model  for  the 
preacher  of  this  new  and  progressive  age. 


AN  IMPORTANT  VIEW  OF  THE   IDEAL  MINISTER 

R.vntXY  docs  the  public  press  pay  special  attention  ediioiially  to  tlio 
passing  away  from  their  life  work  of  ministers  of  the  gospel,  unless  in 
Borae  form  they  have  atti acted  special  attention.  The  every-day  pastor  and 
preacher  fulfilling  bis  woilc,  and  of  which  no  record  is  made  e\cept  that 
which  is  in  the  book  of  life,  does  not  receive  special  consideration  by  the 
press,  because  his  life  is  not  related  to  the  great  public  movements  which 
Btir  largo  communities.  It  is  well  sometimes  for  the  church  to  note  what 
kind  of  a  minister  impress's  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  looking  upon 
him  from  the  broad  standpoint  of  the  world's  activities  i-nd  not  from  the 
eccleairustical  side  from  which  tliey  aie  accustomed  to  bo  viov»-ed  in  re- 
ligious P'jriodicals.  A  minister  who  cari  at  once  secure  the  biuh  apprecia- 
tion of  h.is  own  people  and  of  his  associates  in  the  ministry,  and  at  tlip 
flame  time  win  the  approbation  of  the  leaders  of  thought  aujid  the  jostle 
of  everyday  lifo,  may  be  r(  ro.Miizcd  as  an  idoil  minister.  Such  an  instance 
C!-currcd  some  lime  a^go  in  tiio  city  of  New  York.     After  Rev.  Dr.  Wirir.ri 


■178  Mclliod'isl  ncricw  [^.lay 

R.  Richards,  the  pastor  of  Iho  Drick  rresbytcrian  Cliurch,  had  entered 
into  rest,  ono  of  the  Xo\v  York  pniicrs  in  r.n  editorial  used  the  following 
language,  headed  "A  Living  Example,"  Avhich  v,e  Quote  in  full  because  of 
its  illuGtrnticn  of  the  poiul  Ave  have  in  view: 

The  dcalli  o£  the  pastor  of  tlio  Biick  rresbytcrian  Cliurch,  yesterday, 
ended  a  life  of  much  swfelU'>.<s  aiid  beauty  and  a  public  career  of  more  than 
ordiuary  n??(  fuhicps  (o  tl'.e  coniinuuity.  Tlifrc  are  probably  other  ministers  in 
tliis  city  wlio  arc  better  I;i;ov,n  to  the  general  public,  but  it  may  he  doubted  if 
there  is  one  wb.o  has  labored  more  earnestly  or  more  efTiciontly  to  do  the  real 
work  of  the  pastor  of  a  u'.un  rnns,  nee.Iful,  and  exacting  con^'regation.  The 
church  which  was  his  is  one  of  Hie  historic  churches  of  New  York,  and  it  is 
one  which  Cas  not  doclin.-d  with  aire  hiU,  ratlior,  has  continued  to  i.-icrease  in 
numbers  and  influence,  in  t!;c  variety  and  scope  of  its  activities,  and  therefore 
in  the  demands  which  it  mah.-?  upon  its  pastor's  time  and  stmnjith.  How  well 
Dr.  Ricluuds  served  it,  as  spiritual  exporter  and  guide,  as  intellectual  instructor, 
as  administrator  of  laaciical  aflairs  and  in  the  tender  and  intimate  personal 
relationships  of  sympathy  and  consolation,  cannot  be  told  but  must  be  deeply 
realized  by  those  who  had  llie  privih^^'e  of  association  with  him. 

The  example  of  his  life  aidrds  what  should  be  a  convincing  answer  to 
those  who  are  quavcrinuly  ine,niri!ig  how  the  churches  are  to  be  fdled  and  how 
the  people  are  to  be  iuiensted  in  them.  Here  was  a  preacher  who  sought  no 
adventitious  aids  to  attract  attention,  yet  who  never  lacked  a  great  and  deeply 
interested  con.L;re.uation.  Il.re  was  ii  pastor  who  never  indulged  in  exploits 
outside  the  limits  of  pastoral  duty,  yet  who  never  was  distresst-d  by  deseriions 
from  his  ]>arish.  Here  v,as  a  reli-ioiis  teacher  who  sought  no  new  fantasies  of 
faith  and  v.iso  discarded  none  of  the  vital  and  robust  doctrines  of  his  belief,  and 
yet  v.ho  never  had  oeeasioii  to  lament  the  decline  of  faith  or  the  failure  of 
Christiatuiy  to  lay  h'dd  upon  the  hearts  and  lives  of  nien  and  women.  His 
was  a  living  example  of  the  way  in  which  to  mako  the  churches  prosperous  and 
Christianity  a  Iriumph.ant  force  in  the  world;  and  it  will  remain  a  living  and 
potent  example  in  his  death  as  it  v. as  in  his  life. 

This  miniL^ttr  of  whom  such  good  words  are  said  is  raenUoned  in 
this  editorial  as  havin?;  qualifications  which  may  well  he  considered  by 
the  miniplry  everywhere.  It  i.^  said  that  he  did  not  use  "adventitious  aids 
to  attract  attention."  Init  relied  ujion  the  gospel  of  Christ  and  the  ordiuary 
methods  of  work  v.liich  have  been  recognized  as  appropriate  for  the  Chris- 
tian minister.  He  was  not  a  specialist  evidently  with  regard  to  either 
topics  or  theories;  he  did  not  employ  sensational  topics  to  secure  the 
attention  of  the  people,  and  yet  it  is  said  he  "never  lacked  great  and 
deeply  interested  con,n-e.r.ntions."  It  is  indicated  also  that  he  maintained 
the  robust  doctrines  of  the  faith;  he  was  at  once  the  exponent  of  the 
teachingr,  of  the  church  and  of  the  liistoric  Christian  faith,  and  it  is  said 
of  him  thnt  ho  "had  never  occasion  to  lament  the  decline  of  faith."  It  is 
further  stated  in  connection  with  his  life  that  so  methodical  was  he  in 
the  preparation  for  his  woik  that  although  he  died  in  the  early  hours  of 
Thursday  morning  his  sermon  for  the  Siibl)ath  morning  had  already  been 
completed,  written  out  in  full,  and  was  read  to  the  congregation  at  the 
Sabbath  morning  servi-.e  following  his  death.  Such  a  man  may  well  be 
called  the  ideal  preacher.  Ho  was  a  wcll-rou::ued,  balanced  minister,  with 
piety,  scholarship,  and  preacliing  pov.-cr. 


lyiOJ  Arclurology  and  Biblical  Itescarch  479 


AROHiHOLOGT   AND   BIBLICAL   RESEARCH 


A3KAHAM 

]Maxt  of  the  p.dvanoofi  critics  have  relesated  Abraham,  along-  with, 
other  patriarchs,  to  the  realm  of  myth  and  legend,  and  even  those  less 
destructive,  who  admit  some  sort  of  a  historical  basis  for  the  existence 
of  the  "Father  of  the  Faithful,"  regard  it  as  nebulous  and  unsubstantial, 
cr  greatly  idealized.  Cheyne  may  be  regarded  as  a  fair  exponent  of  the 
more  radisg^l  views  among  the  English-speaking  critics.  He  tells  us  that 
the  editors  of  the  Hexateuch  regarded  Abraham  "not  so  much  as  a  his- 
torical personage  as  an  ideal  type  of  character,"  and  though  the  story  as 
related  in  Genesis  has  a  religious  A'alue  for  all,  "the  historical  or  quasi- 
historical  is  for  students  only."  This  supposed  hero  of  the  Hebrews — for 
his  real  existence  "is  as  doubtful  as  that  of  other  heroes" — cannot  o.'-igi- 
nally  have  been  grouped  with  Jacob  or  Israel.  Professor  Choyno  in  a 
further  discussion  of  Abraham's  relation  to  Sarah,  Hagar,  and  Lof.  sfiys, 
"though  an  assertion  of  relationship  may  be  literally  correct."  it  nny. 
after  all,  mean  nothing  more  than  a  political  connection.  Abraham's 
marriage  to  Sarah  may  be  regarded  simply  as  a  symbol  of  the  political 
fusion  of  a  southern  Isi-aelitish  tribe  and  the  non-Israelitish  clans  south  cf 
Hebron.  So,  too,  the  story  of  Abraham  and  Hagar  rnay  symbolize  the 
political  alliance  between  Egypt  and  Palestine.  The  story  of  the  separa- 
tion of  Lot  from  Abraham  is  intended  as  a  foreshadowing  of  the  breach 
between  Israel,  Moab,  and  Amnion.  It  would  be  easy  to  cite  other  writeis 
of  this  school  who  palm  off  such  theories  as  saue,  sober  criticism;  but 
let  the  nbove  suffice  to  show  the  absolute  fancifulness  and  subjectivity 
of  such  a  method. 

The  meaning  of  the  name  "Abram,"  or  "Abraham."  has  ever  boon  a  ro;il 
puzzle  to  Semitic  scholars;  this  is  especially  true  of  the  second  comi>cnent 
l^art.  Driver,  commenting  on  Gen.  17.  5,  where  the  name  is  changed  from 
Abram  to  Abraham,  says:  "'Abraham'  has  no  meaning  in  Hebrew,  nor  Is 
any  meaning  apparent  from  the  cognate  h'.nguages.  The  name  is  explained 
here  simply  by  assonance."  Cheyne,  tco.  regards  the  etymological  effort 
cf  the  writer  of  Gen.  17.  5,  as  a  mere  word-play.  And  yet,  notwiih?iand- 
ing  the  fact  that  there  is  no  agreement  among  critics  as  to  the  meaning 
of  the  name,  some,  like  Edward  Meyer,  have  gone  so  far  as  to  s;^.y  that 
it  cannot  be  the  name  of  a  man.  but  rather  of  a  local  tribal  doily.  The 
argument  seems  to  be  this:  "Abr?m"  may  mean  "sublime  father":  th.it 
being  the  case,  who  would  ever  think  of  calling  his  sou  by  such  an  ap- 
pcdlation?  The  answer,  of  course,  \.>,  Xo  one;  therefore  the  name  "Abra- 
ham," or  "Abram,"  must  be  that  of  a  deity  and  not  of  a  human  being; 
crf/o,  the  story  of  .Abram  is  a  mytiu  rnfortiui.'icly  for  '.'•  yor  i^nd  tIio-;e 
of  his  way  of  thinking,  there  have  been  Assyriolof.ists  v.ho  have  mnin- 
taincd  th:it  the  identical  name  has  bc<-n  found  in  the  Hjibyloiiian  i:is(  rip- 
tiors,  and  that  afc  early  us  the  Ham'.nvirabi  dynasty,  the  contemporary  of 


480  ]\Jciltodis[  Fevicw  [iNfay 

Abram  of  the  Hebrew  Scripturos.  Lot  no  one  misunderstand;  it  is  not 
claimed  that  there  are  ciint-iform  inscriptions  with  the  name  of  the  Abram 
of  Genesis.  There  was  an  A-be-ra-mu  in  the  time  of  Abil-Sin,  the  second 
predecessor  of  Hammurabi.  This  man  was  tlie  father  of  Sha-aniurri,  "the 
man  of  the  Amorite  god."  Hommol,  as  early  as  lS9i,  called  attention  to  a 
tablet  which  I^Ieis.sncr  had  j/.iblished,  and  which  is  now  deposited  in  the 
Royal  Museum  at  Beilin,  on  which  the  name  A-be-ra-mn  occurs.  Though 
Sayce,  Pinches,  and  others  accepted  this  discovery  of  Hcmmel  as  a  fact, 
later  examinations  showed  that  the  real  transliteration  should  be  A-bi-e-ra- 
ach.  No  doubt  this  correction  led  Cheyne  to  cliaracterize  Hommel's  effort 
to  establish  the  historical  cliar.-ictei-  of  the  Abi-aham  narrative  as  a  critical 
failure.  ^Quile  recently,  however,  Professor  Unguad,  of  Jena,  whose  work 
we  noticed  in  a  recent  article  in  this  department,  came  out  with  incontro- 
vertible proof  thai  a  man  named  Abram,  or  Abraham,  is  named  in  at  least 
five  contract  tablets  of  the  Hammurabi  jieriod.  He  first  called  attention 
to  these  tablets  in  the  Bcitracgc  zur  ArcTiaoJogie,  Vol.  VI,  Part  1.  While 
doing  sou-'e  work  in  the  mui^euin  at  Berlin  last  summer,  it  was  our  privi- 
lege to  discuss  these  tanlcis  wiLli  Professor  Unguad  the  very  week  he 
wrote  his  article,  "Acha-olosy's  Vindication  of  Father  Abraham,"  which 
appeared  in  the  Sunday  School  Times,  January  22,  1910.  In  this  article 
we  are  told  that  the  tablets  under  discussion,  now  in  Berlin,  were  dis- 
covered with  many  others  at  Dilbat,  an  ancient  city,  about  fifteen  miles 
south  of  Babylon,  a  place  quite  prominent  in  Babylonian  history  from 
2230  to  500  B.  C.  These  tablets  belong  to  the  Hammurabi  period  (2230— 
lOnO).  Dilbat  was  a  military  i)ost,  and  one  cf  the  cfiiccrs  stationed  here 
bore  the  name  Abram,  or  Abraham.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  proper 
names  in  all  ages  and  lands  Lave  a  variety  of  oithography  and  pronuncia- 
tion as  well.  This  very  day  tlie  writer  cf  this  article  has  heard  his  own 
name  pronounced  in  three  diuercnt  ways,  and  that  by  men  of  his  own 
city  v.-ho  have  kiiov.n  hiin  for  years.  No  v.onder,  therefore,  that  the 
name  identified  by  Professor  Unguad  as  Abram  is  written  in  throe  dif- 
ferent ways:  A-ba-am-ra-am,  A-bu-am-ra-ma,  and  A-ba-ra-ma.  He  calls 
attention  to  the  fact  accepted  by  Assyriologists  that  the  character  "m"  as 
well  as  a  short  vowel  in  cerf.-iin  positions  are  negligible  quantities  in 
pronunciation;  thus  the  form  "Abaram,"  or  "Abram,"  may  be  legitimately 
derived  from  the  above.  Thi.-?  being  true,  here,  in  Babylonian  tablets  of  the 
Hammurabi  period,  is  the  exact  counteri)art  of  the  name  given  in  Genesis 
to  the  "Father  of  the  Faithful." 

As  already  stated,  the  etymology  of  the  name  is  not  quite  clear;  nor. 
indeed,  is  there  a  complete  agreement  as  to  whether  the  word  is  of  Baby- 
lonian oiigin.  Dr.  Unguad  is  cautious,  but  modestly  suggests  that  the 
name  is  Babylonian,  with  the  possible  meaning,  "He  loves  the  Father." 

We  shall  close  this  article  with  the  insertion  of  one  of  these  contract 
tablets  as  translated  by  Professor  Unguad.  It  is  in  regard  to  the  hiring 
of  an  ox  for  plowing,  and  runs  as  follows: 

An  ox  for  plowing  (?)  bolciifjinp:  to  Ibni-sin,  sou  of  Slni:ng\irrani,  h.is  h<:vn  bind 
from  Il)iii-siu  on  tlie  command  of  (^'i^hti-N.-ibiMiii,  .son  fif  Ktinim,  by  Ahrtrnm,  son  of 
Arvil-1  slit ar,  for  one  month.     .As  liiiv  for  oia- iiioiilh   lie  .sludl    pay  a  sbokcl  of  silver. 


10 JO]  ArcliwoJorjy  and  Biblical  Ecsco.rch    .  481 

of  which  QLshti-Nnhiuin  already  has  received  lialf  a  shekel  of  silver  out  of  the  hand 
of  Al>ar;iin. 

Ik-forc  Iilin-Urash,  son  of  Idin-Laganeal. 

Before  Arvilya,  son  (if  Slianiash-rirnanni. 

Before  BeliJA,  the  scribe. 

The  twentieth  diiy  of  the  month  Elul,  year  in  which  King  Anuniditana  built 
the  Atnniidilana  forire.s.s. 

In  conclusion  il  shovUl  be  added  that  names  corresponding  to  "Isaac," 
"Jacob,"  and  "Joseph"  are  also  found  in  these  tablets.  In  form  the.se  are 
Bomovsiiat  different  from  the  ordinaiy  B;',bylonian  names,  but  correspond 
exactly  to  the  West  Semitic  personal  names.  Vv'heu  we  remember  that  "a 
troop  of  Amorites  formerly  living  in  Palestine  and  Syria  invaded  Baby- 
JoJiia  a  shoj-t  time  before  the  Hammurabi  dynasty,  the  presence  of  such 
names  is  not  difTicult  to  explain." 


THE  AMURllU 
The  lands  or  counlriGs  of  the  Western  Semites,  especially  Palestine 
and  Syria  and  the  territory  -bordering  upon  the  eastern  shore  of  the 
Mediterranean,  were  designated  by  the  general  term  Amurru.  This  is 
Bupnosed  to  be  the  exact  form  for  the  nation  knov.-n  as  Amorites  in  the 
Old  Testament.  The  exact  boundaries  of  the  territory  occupied  by  this 
I'ooplc  cannot  be  given,  but  from  the  biblical  account,  which  is  v.-ithout 
doubt  as  reliable  as  and  more  complete  than  any  other,  it  is  clear  that  Ihoy 
Y.cre  found  in  every  part  of  Palestine.  It  seems  that  the  ssvcral  nations 
or,  rather,  tribes  settled  in  Canaan  at  the  time  of  the  invasion  under 
Joshua  were  branches  of  this  great  Amorlte  trunk,  which  occupied  not 
02ly  Palestine  but  extended  far  north  and  east  beyond  Lebanon  to  Aram. 
A.mcs  employs  the  term  "Amorite"  in  this  same  general  way  (2.  9).  Mod- 
ern scholars  of  all  schools  agree  that  Amorite  includes  the  term  Canaanite, 
the  former  applying,'  specifically  to  those  dwelling  in  the  hills  and  the 
latter  to  those  living  in  the  lowlands.  The  term  "Amurru"  meets  us  often 
in  the  Babylonian  and  Egyptian  inscriptions.  It  occurs  several  times  in 
the  Tel  el-Araarna  tablets;  here,  however,  perhaps  in  a  limited  sense. 
From  thf^se  facts  it  has  been  justly  inferred  that  the  Amurri  were  people 
of  no  little  importance  and  culture  in  the  millennium  preceding  the  Exo- 
dus, and  that  judging  from  the  inscriptions,  their  influence  was  felt  from 
the  Euphrates  to  the  Nile.  Indeed,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  both 
Egypt  and  Babylon  profited  by  contact  with  the  Amurri,  or  the  poople  of 
Amurru,  because  they  were  givers  rather  than  borrowers  In  the  develop- 
ment of  religious  and  political  culture.  During  the  past  decade  the  theory 
ha.s  prevailed  very  extensively  thot  Israel  derived  almost  everything  In 
the  way  cf  religious  culture  from  Babylonia.  When  the  Wellhausen  theory 
began  to  show  signs  of  decay  and  disintegration,  there  loomed  into  view  a 
now  set  of  critics,  the  Pan-Babylonians,  or  the  Aslral-mytholrgiral  school, 
with  theories  v.ildcr,  if  po.=sible,  than  anything  in  Old  Testament  criticism. 
It  is  without  doubt  destined  to  be  short-lived,  much  shorter  than  Well- 
hauseninm,  v/hich  It  has  helped  to  overthrow. 


482  Mdhodist  Ilcvieuj  [:^ray 

That  our  readers  iiiaj"  have  some  idea  of  the  teachin.qs  of  this  now 
school,  we  can  do  no  better  than  give  a  f^ample  or  two  from  the  works  of 
Professor  Winckler,  of  13crlin,  and  Professor  Jensen,  of  :\Iarburg,  who 
may  be  regarded  as  tlie  loaders.  The  former  maiccs  all  Hebrew  cult  de- 
pendent upon  Babylon.  TJio  patriaixhs,  or  the  "Icadcis  of  Israel,  such  as 
Joshua,'  Gideon,  Saul,  David,  and  others,  are  sun  or  lunar  mythological 
personages."  Abra'aani  and  Lot  must  be  reduced  to  the  same  category  as 
Castor  and  Pollux  of  Roman  mythology.  To  establish  his  astral  theory, 
AViuckler  is  a  perfect  master  in  reducing  j)5rsons,  places,  and  numbers  to 
a  mythical  basis.  The  three  hundred  and  eighteen  men,  for  example, 
who  were  Abram'.s  allies  (Gsn.  It.  14)  are  the  three  hundred  and  eighteen 
days  of  the  year  when  the  moon  is  visible.  Kirjath-Arba,  that  is,  "city  of 
four,"  is^so  named  because  Arba  is  the  name  of  a  mocn-sod  with  his 
four  phases.  Beersheba  ("seven  wells")  represents  the  seven  days  in 
each  phase  of  the  moon.  Isaac  resides  at  Beersheba,  therefore  he,  too, 
niust  be  a  sun-god.  So  Jacob  with  his  four  wives  is  likewise  a  moon-god, 
and  his  wives  are  different  phases  of  the  moon;  and  as  to  his  twelve  sous, 
why,  they  are  simply  the  twelve  months  of  the  year,  and  Leah's  seven 
sons  are  plainly  the  seven  days  of  the  weclc. 

Jensen  has  gone  much  farllier,  for,  according  to  the  I\Iarburg  savant, 
every  important  biblical  cliaracter,  from  Abraham  down  to  John  the 
Baptist  and  Christ,  has  his  origin  in  Babylonian  sun-myths.  He  assumes 
that  the  proper  names  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  are  to  a  very  large  extent 
mere  adaptations  from  the  Gilgamesh  epic.  Thus  Christ  of  the  New 
Testament  is  only  another  name  for  Marduk.  "So  that  all  which  refer 
lo  the  life  of  Christ — his  passion,  his  death,  his  descent  [into  Sheol],  his 
resurrection,  and  ascension— are  to  be  explained  as  having  their  origin  in 
Babylonian  mythclo-y."  Tlie  above  citations  are  from  a  very  interesting 
volume,  entitled  Ataurru,  by  Professor  A.  T.  Clay,  of  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania,  recently  elected  to  the  chair  of  arch:eology  and  Babylonian 
literature  at  Yale  Universily.  Professor  Clay  belongs  to  that  group  of 
scholars  who,  like  ourselves,  believe  that  the  origin  of  Hebrew  literature 
must  be  sought  at  a  much  earlier  period  than  most  bil)lical  critics  are 
willing  to  grant.  Nay,  more,  he  maintains  in  his  book  with  great  learning 
and  cogent  reasoning  that  Israel  owes  comparatively  little  to  Babylonia 
for  its  religious  beliefs  and  traditions,  but,  rather,  that  Babylonia  i>; 
indebted  for  much  of  il-s  culture  and  civilization  to  the  Amurri,  or  Western 
Semites.  He  discaids  a  commonly  accepted  view  that  tiie  Babylonians 
derived  their  be.it  iwul  early  ide.'s  from  Arabia,  and  then  at  a  later  date 
passed  them  en  to  ihv  pcor<!e  of  Syiia  and  Palestine.  He  enters  a  pro- 
test, and  reverses  the  order,  saying  that  "the  movement  of  the  Semites 
was  eastward  from  Amru  and  Aram,"  that  is,  from  the  lands  of  the 
\Vest  to  the  Euphrates.  In  other  words,  he  maintains  that  Amurru  po.s- 
sessed  a  higher  and  an  earlier  civilir'.ation  than  Babylonia.  These  West- 
erners were  givers  and  not  borrowers.  It  is  needless  to  remind  our 
readers  that  his  theory  haimoni/es  perfectly  with  the  biblical  story  of 
Gen.  11.  2f.,  \\l!ere  wo  read:  "And  it  came  to  pass,  as  they  journeyed  ciDit. 
that  they  fuund  a  i;i:.in  i)i  the  lan.l  of  Shinar;  and  Ihey  dwelt  there.     .A.!ul 


r.nO]  Arclucolor/ii  and  JUbUcal  Hcscarch  483 

they  Baitl  one  to  another,  Come  let  us  make  brick,  and  burn  them  thor- 
oughly. Anil  they  had  bride  for  slonc,  and  slime  had  they  for  mortar." 
As  could  be  e.vpected,  the  Anioritos,  or  Western  Semites,  carried  with  them, 
on  their  eastward  march,  not  only  their  commercial  and  industri:;!  spirit 
but  their  rolisious  creed  and  institutions  as  well.  Thus  tlie  stories  of 
Creation,  the  Flood,  the  antediluvian  j)alriarchs,  etc.,  wore  t:\ken  from  the 
West  to  the  East.  This  being  so.  the  origin  of  Israel's  culture  must  not  hz 
j-ouftht  on  Babylonian  soil.  We  all  know  how  eloquently  the  critics  have 
expatiated  on  the  great  antiquity  of  everything  Babylonian.  To  take  but 
one  ilhi.slraiion:  It  was  but  recently  that  they  traced  astronomy,  or. 
lather,  asti-olo^y,  liack  to  the  early  Babylonian  period;  now,  however, 
Assyriolo^ists  of  the  highest  rank,  like  Kugler  and  Jastrow,  instead  of 
]dacing  f3  early,  make  astrology  a  product  of  the  Greek  period,  or  betwetn 
the  fourth  and  second  century  B.  C. 

The  monuments  of  Phoenicia  and  Palestine,  so  far  examined,  know 
but  little  of  early  Babylonian  influence  '"in  the  early  period  of  I.sraelitish 
history,  nor  yet  in  the  pre-Israelitlsh."  Xowack,  reviewing  tlie  excavations 
of  Schumacher  and  Steuernagel  at  Tel-el-IMutesselira  (U>OS).  has  empha- 
sized 11'.!.=^  jicint.  He  says:  "It  is  a  disturbing  but  irrefutable  fact  that 
until  down  to  the  fifth  stratus — i.  e.,  to  the  beginning  of  the  eighth  cen- 
tury—imTiortant  Assyrian  inihiences  do  not  assert  themselves."  .  .  .  "Ii  i.s 
most  si.Lruifioant  that  in  Jiegiddo  not  a  single  idol  {GottesbiJd)  from  the 
Assyflan-Pabylonian  Pantheon  has  been  found,"  nor,  indeed,  anything  to 
indicate  the  dependence  of  the  Amorites  upon  Babylon  for  either  culture 
or  religion.  On  the  other  hand,  the  recent  excavations  in  Palestine  b?;ir 
abr.ndunt  testimony  to  Egyptian  influence  upon  its  early  history,  and  this 
as  early  as  the  third  millennium  B.  C  It  is  usually  conceded  that  Se- 
mitic civilization  is  quite  as  old  as  that  of  Egypt.  Indeed,  some  claim 
that  Egypt  derived  its  best  culture  from  Babylonia.  But,  if  fno  Sumcriar.s 
exerted  any  inHuence  upon  Egyptian  civilization,  it  was,  mn^-'t  likely,  in- 
directly, through  the  Western  Semites  or  tlie  Amurri.  As  high  an  au- 
thority as  Professor  W.  M.  MiiHer  maintains  that  the  Western  Semitc.=; 
influenced  Egypt  in  the  very  beginnings  of  its  riviliz.ation.  Arguments 
and  facts  like  these  have  convinced  Professor  Clay  that  "an  ancient  Se- 
mitic j)tople  v.-ith  a  not  incon.siderable  civilization  Jived  in  Amurru  prior 
to  the  time  of  Abraham."  Xo  one  will  deny  that  the  Babylor.ians  did 
make  successful  invasion  into  Amurru  and  subdued  its  i)eople  at  different 
times  in  the  early  ages.  It  is,  however,  to  be  remembered  that  the  Amurri 
in  turn  invaded  Babylonia  and  founded  colonics  in  the  Euphrates  valley 
louf,'  bt.'foTc  the  time  of  Moses.  A  great  power  like  Babylonia  could  not 
have  come  in  contact  with  any  people  without  impressing  some  influeuce: 
but  as  far  as  Israel  is  concerned,  this  influence  lias  been  greatly  over- 
csllmated.  Indeed,  it  is  nov/  positively  known  that  "many  things  that  arc 
actually  Aramaean  luive  been  regarded  as  Babylonian."  The  New  York 
Run  calls  this  volume  of  Professor  Clay  "A  refreshing  disturber  of  the 
cunent  views  of  ancient  history,"  a  "book  which  will  compel  historians  to 
reccgni/;e  the  orii;i:ia]iiy  of  Israel  instead  of  reducing  it  to  a  mere 
l)urveyor  of  borrowed  notions." 


484  Method is(  lu'vicw  [May 


FORDIGN  OUTy-.OOS 


CONCERN! Xa  THE  PERIODICAL  LITERATURE  OF  GERMAN 
I'RO'J'ESTAXTISM 

Tjje  theological  and  ecclesi;istical  movements  in  any  country  arc,  In 
the  nature  of  the  case,  more  fully— though  in  part  less  clearly— mirrored 
in  its  periodical  literature  than  in  the  weighty  books  of  its  scholars.  A 
"standard  v.ork"  is  quite  as  likely  to  mark  the  culmination  of  an  epoch 
as  to  make  an  epoch.  At  all  events,  the  process  of  a  movement  must,  in 
great  part,  be  traced  in  the  contemporary  periodical  literature.  If  we 
liave  reason  to  take  a  very  spocial  interest  in  the  religious  thoucht  and 
life  of  Germany— for  she  has  long  been  the  theological  preceptress  of  the 
Protestant  world — we  have  reason  to  devote  no  insignificant  shavS  of  our 
attention  to  her  periodicnl  lilcraiurc  in  that  field.  For  the  present  we 
shall  confine  our  observations  to  the  national  Protestant  churches.  The 
other  Protestant  denominations — the  so-called  "sects" — have,  of  course, 
their  organs,  each  one  doubtless  serving  its  end  with  a  greater  or  less 
degree  of  efacieucy.  The  OTgan,  for  example,  of  the  i\IethodL-t  Episcopal 
Church,  Dcr  Evangelist,  is  a  very  creditable  sheet.  But  the  ferment,  the 
broadly  significant  movements  are  for  the  most  part  within  the  national 
churches;  and  so  their  periodical  literature  is  incomparably  more  interest- 
ing and  important,  since  it  must  grapple  with  more  diftlcult  problems. 

At  the  first  glance  we  arc  struck  by  tiie  extraordinary  number  of 
biblical  and  theological  magazines  and  revievs  that  address  themselves 
exclusively  to  scholars.  Not  that  German  Protestants  are  without  interest 
in  the  popularization  of  thcoloiry!  In  recent  years  a  strong  tendency  in 
that  direction  has  bem  manifest  amorig  them,  expressing  itself  in  popular 
lectures,  in  series  cf  YoUcshiicncr,  and  in  discus^sions  in  periodicals  de- 
signed for  the  educated  laity  as  well  as  for  the  clergy.  Yet  the  impressive, 
and  significant  fact  stands  unchanged,  that  Germany  possesses  a  theo- 
logical public  numerous  enough  and  interested  enough  to  maintain  so 
many  and  so  weighty  jieriodicals  devoted  to  scientific  theology.  Several 
of  these  are  purely  reviews  of  the  litoi-ature  of  theology.  There  stands  In 
the  first  place  the  Thcolorjischcr  Johirsbcricht,  that  monument  of  self- 
sacrificing  indu.'^try,  an  annual  survey  of  theological  literature  in  all  its 
dopartmcnis.  Tliere  are  al.=o  som.e  biweekly  and  monthly  reviews,  the  best 
of  those  being  the  ThrolOQischc  LUcratur^citunri,  edited  by  Karnnck  and 
Schiirer.  Its  standpoint  is  liberal.  Its  conservative  counterpart  is  the 
Thfolonischcs  Literali:rhlcil.  Two  of  the  most  interesting  and  helpful 
publications  in  thi.s  field  are  Die  Thcoloohrhc  nandschaM,  (monthly,  now 
in  its  thirteenth  year)  and  Die  Thcolocjie  dcr  GcrjcuicaH  (quarterly),  now 
in  its  fourth  year).  The  former,  edited  by  Bousset  and  Heitraiillor.  repre- 
sents a  liberal  standpoint,  while  the  latter,  edited  by  R.  H.  Griitzmncher 
and  five  other  spociaHsts.  is  "positive."  but  modern.  A  peculiarity  of 
tbe?o  two  jo-irnals  is  that  th.oy  review  books  not  singly,  but  in  groups  and 


J 010]  Foreign  Outlook  485 

coancclcdly,  according  to  dcpnrimonts.  (Tlie  Ruudsrhau,  however,  docs 
occa.sioiKilly  make  a  single  importanl  book  the  subject  of  a  special  article.) 
Thu  Theolufjie  dcr  Gcjcmcari  is  in  reality  an  annual  survey,  each  depart- 
ui'->nt  rf.ceiving  but  a  single  treatment  for  the  whole  year.  But  there  are 
theological  journals  in  which  book  reviews  form  a  very  subordinate  fea- 
ture, or  are  even  wanting  altogether.  No  one  of  these  occupies  a  more 
important  place  than  the  Thcolorjische  Shulicn  nnd  Kritikcn  (quarterly, 
founded  ill  1S2S).  Its  tlieclogical  sta.idpcint  has  been  generally  regarded 
as  "mediating";  but  in  reality  it  seems  to  come  nearer  than  any  other  to 
realizing  the  ideal  of  a  nonpartisan  theological  repository.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  excellent  Xeue  Kirchlichc  Zcitschrift  (monthly)  frankly  repre- 
sents modern  orthodox  Lulheranism  according  to  the  Erlangen  type. 
Several  excellent  periodicals  of  a  more  or  less  general  scope  must  pass 
unnoticed.  One  of  this  class,  however — a  comparatively  new  enterprise — 
must  be  mentioned  as  a  typical  sign  of  the  times,  ^t  is  Religion  nnd 
Gcisteskidiur  (monthly),  edited  by  111.  Rteinmann,  Decent  in  the  Mora- 
vian Seminary  at  Gnadenfeld.  It  is  a  very  interesting  and  Yigoroi;.=?,  but 
also  decidedly  liberal,  journal.  Stcinmann's  lib--r;ilism,  manifested  in 
this  and  in  all  his  work,  creates  a  distressing  problon-i  for  the  mild  but 
conservative  ?.Ioravian  brotherhood.  This  is,  however,  not  the  first  out- 
cropping of  liberalism  in  that  quarter.  Schleiermacher  withdrew  from  the 
Moravian  communion  because  he  found  it  not  broad  enough  for  him. 
Again,  in  its  time,  the  Ritschlian  theology  found  an  entrance  among  the 
students  at  Gnadenfeld,  and  thereby  some  of  these  were  led  finally  into 
the  national  church.  The  pi-esent  situation,  however,  is  different  from 
any  foimcr  ones,  for  now  liberalism  calmly  yet  boldly  seeks  to  maintain 
its  ground  within  the  communion.  Since  Steinraann  has  a  considerable 
following,  the  situation  is  commonly  regarded  as  "a  crisis  in  the  Moravian 
brotherhood,"  Most  of  his  collaborators  on  the  journal  (it  should  bo  re- 
marked)  are  liberal  theologians  of  the  national  churches. 

The  several  departments  of  theology  and  of  church  life  have,  gen- 
erally, their  special  representative  journals.  There  is  a  well-known 
Zrilschrift  for  Old  Testament  science,  another  for  the  New  Testament  and 
Tatristic  literature,  a  third  for  church  history.  The  broad  field  of  prac- 
tical theology  has  several  scientific  journ.ils.  There  are  one  for  liturgies 
and  ecclesiastical  art,  another  for  religious  education,  and.  of  coursi'. 
Boveral  of  a  broader  scope.  Tliesc.  for  the  most  part,  represent  some  well- 
di-fincd  theological  standpoint,  and  some  of  them  (as,  for  example.  Evar.- 
grlische  Frt'ihcit,  edited  by  Baumgarlen.  of  Kiel)  frankly  stand  forth  as 
the  organs  of  reform  movements  in  church  praxis.  The  reform  movements 
at  the  present  time  chiefly  relate  to  catechetics,  confirmation,  religions  in- 
ttiuction  iu  the  school.^?,  discipline  of  pastors  for  doctrinal  aberrations, 
the  rolutioa  of  the  church  to  the  state,  and  other  like  matters.  A  journal 
that  d'crrves  very  unusual  praise  is  the  AVgcmcinr  Missionszritschrift, 
no-y  in  its  thirty-seventh  year,  edited  from  the  beginning  by  Dr.  Gustav 
Warneck,  latterly  with  the  assi.slance  of  Dr.  Julius  Kirhter  and  Dr.  U. 
Gruudemanu.  There  arc  few  who  v.ould  deny  to  Warncck  the  distinction 
of  hcii'g  the  highest  of  all  autb.orities  in  the  donniia  of  the  history  and 


4SG  ]\Ic{hoJls(  lie  view  [:\ray 

theory  of  missions,  and  his  Zcilschrift  is  a  model  of  hrondth  and  soiinrl 
judgment.  The  uni\crsnl  respect  in  Avliich  it  is  held  may  be  inferred  from 
the  fact  that  the  Prussian  High  Ecclesiastical  Council  has  authorized  each 
parish  in  the  Idngdom  (at  the  discretion  of  its  local  council)  to  procure 
the  ZciUxhrift  at  the  charges  of  the  porish  and  incorporate  it  in  the  parish 
archives. 

"  There  are  several  periodicals  of  importnncc  that  s^pocially  represent 
the  field  of  sysiematic  theology.  Two  of  these  cultivate  Chri.^tian  aitolo- 
gelics,  the  third  "jirincipial  and  systematic  theology"  generally.  The 
apologelic  journals  (both  monthly)  are  Glauhcn  nnd  ^Visscn,  edited  by 
Dennert  (founder  of  the  Kcplor  Alliance)  and  R.  II.  Griitzmacher,  and 
Der  Geistcskampf  der  Grgt-nuart  (formerly  Der  Bcincis  dcs  Glaithcns), 
edited  by  Pfennigsdorf,  The  standpoint  of  both  is  conservative  and  both 
render  a  good  service.  The  thii-d  of  this  group,  however,  is  both  more 
interesting  and  more  v.-cighty.  It  is  the  wcll-Jvnown  Zcitschrift  fiir  Thco- 
logic  unci  Kirchc  (bimonthly),  edited  now  by  Hcrrmai^  and  Rade,  for- 
merly by  Gottschick  (died,  1907).  The  general  standpoint  la  Ritschlian, 
though  some  of  the  contributors  are  conservative  and  some  represent  the 
"history-of-religions  school."  At  ;ill  events,  it  will  be  generally  agreed 
that  here  we  have  ono  of  the  stiongest  of  all  contemporary  theolog^ical 
journals. 

Omitting  any  special  notice  of  (lie  many  religious  family  jiapers  (some 
of  which  have  an  extensive  circulation)  and  of  all  local  or  provincial 
journals,  we  come  to  consider  a  very  interesting  and  important  class  of 
papers:  ilie  weekly  journals  which  address  themselves  to  the  educated 
public,  and  are  the  org.ins  of  ecclesiastical  and  theological  parties.  It  Is 
not  easy  for  us  to  un.'.erstand  the  strength  of  party  feeling  in  the  German 
churches.  Yet  we  may  fairly  imagine  the  situation  if  we'l^eep  in  mind 
that  German  Protestants  have  pressing  upon  them  the  problem  of  finding 
a  modus  Vivendi  of  the  representatives  cf  the  most  conflicting  tendencies 
within  the  limits  of  one  ecclesiastical  body.  The  purty  spirit  may  not  be 
stronger  than  it  was  a  generation  ago,  but  certainly  party  organization 
has  developed  to  a  remarkable  degree;  and  every  group  has  its  organ. 
For  example,  the  "middle  jtarty"  in  Prussia  (known  as  the  EvaugeJi.^chc 
Vercinifiung)  has  the  Prcnssifichc  Kirchcuzcitung ;  the  group  known  as  the 
"friends  of  the  Positive  T'nion"  have  an  organ  called  Die  Positive  Union; 
and  so  in  like  manner  the  other  parties,  Tlie  most  interesting  of  the 
journals  of  this  class  are  by  common  consent  Die  ChrisiUche  V>'cJt  and 
Die  Reformation.  Tlie  well-known  AUgrmcine  Lvihcrische  Kirchen-jcitung 
also  deserves  mention.  Die  Jicformntion  (edited  by  E.  Bunke,  Berlin) 
repiesents  the  conservatives  in  a  fairly  inclusive  way,  although  the 
"modern-positive"  group  is  more  in  evidence  than  the  biblicistic  group. 
Theolcgically  Die  Jicfonnatioii  is  certainly  not  ultra-conservative,  b;'.t 
rather  frankly  progressive.  Xevertheles.'^,  it  carries  on  pretty  vigorous 
polemics  against  modern  liberalism.  But  iindoubtetlly — apart  from  all 
questions  of  theological  sfandi>oint  and  tendenc.v — the  palm  nnist  bo 
awarded  to  iho  Ohri<<(Uihe  ^VcU  (edited  by  Profct^sor  Rude,  Marburg).  Its 
tlicologi'^al  standpoint  it  Ritsihlinn. 


PjJO]  GVunpsrs  of  ]!cvicu:s  and  Magazines  48( 


GLIMPSSS  OF  nSVIEV.^S  /iI\^D  r.IAGAZINES 

Some  of  our  veader^^  may  enjoy  a  srri:';'aUy  and  sparkling  critique 
published  anonymously  on  Profch-sor  William  James's  Hibbcrt  Lectures 
vshich  v.cre  issued  in  a  volume  under  the  title,  A  Pluralistic  Univc-rso. 
Here  fallows  the  critique  without  quotation  marhs. 

Almost  every  great  philosopher  has  been  annoyed  by  lii3  devil.  OP 
this  history  has  assured  us.  Each  according  to  his  temperament  has  come 
10  siil'-i  "^ith  his  household  demon.  If  Satan  once  in  satanic  exuberance 
threw  a  stone  at  the  head  of  Saint  Dorainick.  did  not  Luther  fling  an 
inkstand  at  the  dark-.<ikinned  gentleman,  thereby  wasting  bis  tc>mi)er.  good 
ink,  and  all  to  no  decorative  purpose,  though  the  spot  on  the  wall  is  still 
.shown  to  pilgrims?  The  particular  form  of  "devil  that  entered  the  atcUcr 
of  Cuvier  was  of  the  familiar  bovine  type.  When  ^\e  naturali:st  asked  him 
what  ho  wanted,  "I've  come  to  swallow  you,"  was  the  amiable  reply.  "0. 
no,  you  haven't.  You  wear  horns  and  hoofs.  You  are  graminivorous,  not 
carnivorous."  The  evil  one  departed,  foiled  by  a  scientific  fact.  Now 
s^tudents  of  demonology  know  that  Satan  :aclcatrig  may  appear  disguised 
as  a  luabTicent  idea.  The  latter  part  of  his  life  Ernest  Renan  despised  a 
devil  he  described  as  "the  mania  of  certitude."  He  dearly  loved  a  con- 
r.i,t  that  couldn't  conceive.  Nature  abhor.s  an  absolute,  and  for  Reuan 
the  world  process  was  fieri,  a  becoming,  a  perpetual  recreation.  Professor 
William  James  has  his  own  devil,  a  haunting  devil,  which  he  has  neither 
named  nor  summoned,  but  that  sits  by  his  bedside  or  with  him  at  his 
fitudv  desk.  This  bright  special  devil  is  Monism,  and  to  exorcise  it,  to 
banish  it  without  bell  or  candle  but  with  book,  he  has  published  his 
Hibbert  lectures,  delivered  at  Manchester  College,  on  the  present  situation 
of  philosophy.  The  book  hears  the  pleasing  title  A  Plurali:;(ic  Univonso. 
It  is  the  record  of  his  recent  adventures  among  the  masterpieces  of  mcla- 
phvsica;  and  what  an  iconoclastic  cruise  it  has  been  for  him! 

When  pragmatism  was  discussed  last  year  in  these  columns,  we 
criticised  the  doctrine— or  attitude,  or  whatever  jelly-like  form  it  may 
assume— thus:  "The  nature  of  judgments,  most  important  of  propositions, 
is  not  dealt  with  by  Professor  James.  Yet  the  conseciucnces  of  judgnient 
are  seou  in  comiuct.  Pragmatism  is  not  a  tlieory  of  truth  but  a  theory  of 
what  it  is  expedient  to  believe."  "Precisely  so,"  Mr.  James  could  have  re- 
torted; "if  it  is  expedient  for  you  not  to  believe  in  pragmatism  as  a  wor]:- 
ing  svstem.  then  don't  attempt  to  do  so."  Tliis  advice  would  have  been  a 
pe.feclly  enunciated  expicssion  of  pragmatism.  We  confess  we  do  not 
find  him  any  the  less  pragmatist  iu  his  new  volume,  as  some  cnlios  havf 
fu^^erfod.  He  i.s  more  protean  than  ever;  but  then  the  essence  of  pragma- 
tism is  (0  be  protean.  When  you  attempt  to  recall  the  color  of  the  mm  1 
of  WilU.im  James  vou  ar..  forced  to  think  of  a  chameleon.  Running  fire, 
he  slips  through  veur  fingers,  benignly  scorehing  them.  The  entire  temper 
of  A  Pluralistic  Universe  is  critically  warlike.     He  iuvades  the  enemy  s 


4SS  Mclhodisi  llcvicw  '  [:iray 

country.  Armed  with  the  club  of  pluralisin  he  attacks  the  bastions  of 
monism,  rationalism,  and  intellectualism.  For  the  seasoned  theologian, 
says  a  Roman  Catholic  theolosiau,  the  si^cctacle  must  be  exhilarating. 
That  old  ice  church,  the  stronghold  o£  rationalism,  has  loug  been  an  ob- 
jective for  ecclesiastical  hot  shot.  To  see  a  philosopher  of  the  James 
eminence  shootiiiij  the  latozt  fancied  sciculifi'^  projectiles  at  a  common 
enemy  must  provoke  the  query,  Quo  vadisf  What  next?  \\'ohin?  That 
Mr.  James  employs  for  hoiiilc  purposes  the  concepts  of  rationalism  Mr. 
Paul  Elmer  More  has  remarked;  but  the  philosopher  had  forestalled  this 
objection  in  hia  note  to  Lecture  G.  Speaking  cf  IJergson,  lie  asks:  "Does 
the  author  not  reason  by  corncpts  exclusively  in  his  very  attempt  to  show 
that  they  can  give  no  in?5ic:,ht?"  lie  ausv.-crs:  "What  he  reaches  by  their 
means  is  thus  only  a  new  practical  attitude."  Chi  non  istima,  vlen 
stimato!  we  ccula  add. 

Let  us  broach  the  Jacobean  arguments,  v/ith  one  Intercalation.  The 
enormous  power  of  visualizing  a  fact,  thanks  to  the  author's  intellect  and 
literary  style,  makes  of  A  Pluralistic  World  arubrcsia  for  the  happy  many. 
Without  doubt,  beginning  v.ith  Schopenhauer  and  dov,'n  to  Nietzsche  and 
James,  there  has  been  an  atttr'2])t  to  batter  the  musty  walls  of  metaphysical 
verbiage.  Such  clarity  of  speech,'  such  simple  ways  of  putting  subtle 
ideas  as  Mr.  James's  are  rare  among  German  or  English  thinkers.  The 
French  have  enjoyed  the  monopoly  in  this  respect.  Indeed,  so  deft  is  the 
verbal  virtuosity  of  James  that  bis  very  clearness  is  often  deluding  and 
might  become  for  a  man  of  loss  sincerity  a  temptation  to  indulge  in  soph- 
istry; but  this  we  feel  assured  is  not  so.  Whatever  essential  weaknesses 
there  are  in  the  ideas  presented  by  our  philosopher,  they  are  at  least  pre- 
sented with  the  ringing  tones  of  conviction.  Or  can  a  man  be  sincere  and 
a  sophist  at  the  same  time? 

The  form  of  idealistic  thinking  that  postulates  an  absolute  came  into 
English  philosophy  by  way  of  Germany.  "The  Rhine  has  fiowed  into  the 
Thames,"  said  Professor  Henry  Jones;  "the  stream  of  Germanic  idealism 
has  been  diffused  over  the  academical  world  of  Great  Britain.  The 
disaster  is  universal."  Forrier,  J.  H.  Stirling,  and  J.  H.  Green  arc  to  be 
thanked  for  this.  James  thus  defines  the  difference  between  empiricism 
and  rationalism:  "Reduced  to  their  most  pregnant  difference,  empiricism 
means  the  habit  of  explaining  wholes  by  parts,  and  rationalism  means  the 
habit  of  explaining  parts  by  wholes.  Rationalism  thus  preserves  afilnities 
with  monism,  since  wholeno.'^s  goes  with  union,  while  empiricism  inclines 
to  pluralistic  views.  No  jdiilosophy  can  ever  be  anything  but  a  suininary 
sketch,  a  picture  of  the  world  in  abridgment,  a  foreshortened  birds-eye 
view  of  the  persjiective  of  events;  and  the  first  thing  to  notice  is  this, 
that  the  only  material  v.e  have  at  our  disposal  for  making  a  picture  of 
the  whole  world  is  supplied  by  the  various  portions  of  that  world  of  which 
we  have  already  had  experience.  We  can  invent  no  new  forms  of  concep- 
tion applicable  to  the  v.-holo  exclusively  and  not  suggested  originally  by 
the  parts.  .  .  .  Let  me  repeat  once  more  that  a  man's  vision  is  the  great 
fact  about  liini  (without  vision  the  people  perish).  Who  cares  for  Car- 
lylc's  reasons,  or  Schopenhauer's  or  Spencer's?     A  philosophy  Is  the  ex- 


JOiO]  GUtn].S:_f;  of  JiCfic'irs  and  Ma(ja-.incs  4S0 

prcGsion  of  a  man's  intimate  character,  and  all  dcCnitions  of  the  universe 
are  but  the  deliberately  adopted  reactions  of  human  characters  upon  it." 
Jnmes  deliberately  renounces  the  metaphysical  apparatus  and  casts  lo^ic 
to  the  dogs.  }ie  raust  of  necessity  approve  of  Jowett's  "Logic  is  neither  an 
art  nor  a  scicrice,  but  a  dodge,"  quoted  by  Leslie  Stephen;  but  when  Icgio 
goes  out  at  the  door  doesn't  faith  come  in  by  the  •s\iudovv? 

Yv'ilh  the  dualislic  theism  of  Chiistianity  ho  does  uot  concern  him- 
self. "Theolotjical  machinery"  is  not  within  the  scope  of  these  lectures. 
To  demolish  the  monistic  form  of  pantheism,  that  pantheism  develojjeJ  by 
Slpinoza,  \\-hich  envisages  God  as  One,  as  the  Absolute,  is  the  delight  of  our 
thinker.  In  reality  %ve  are  all  pragmatists,  all  pluralists  without  Ivuov/ing 
it  until  now.  On  the  stage  of  tliis  theater  of  ideas  the  Cambridge  m:i;-ier 
manipulates  the  concept  puppets,  the  "All-form"  and  the  "EacJi-fot:>:." 
and  the  duel  is  in  this  dramatist's  hands  very  exciting.  It  is  not  merely 
s  battle  of  con.iunctions,  of  the  quCt  and  guateiiiis,  the  "as"  and  the  "as 
Fueh,"  but  a  wholesome  massacre  of  "ideas,"  Platonic  and  their  con- 
gener.s.  It  is  a  cheerful  spectacle  to  witness  an  intellectual  de.scendant 
of  Kant,  that  grand  old  nihilist  of  Kunigsberg,  blow  skyward  with  his 
jiiuralislic  dynamite  the  lofty  structure  v^liich  once  housed  the  "Dinci  an 
sich,"  and  those  fat,  toddling  Categorical  Imperatives.  Professor  James 
is  the  one  philosophic  shov/man  who  gives  you  the  worth  of  your  money. 

He  doe.g  not  believe  in  an  objective  Truth  with  a  capital — there  are 
«lso  ti'.e  "lower  case"  truths  to  be  taken  into  consideration.  AVhile  he 
hints  not  at  having  heard  Ibsen's  statement  that  all  truths  sicken  and 
die  about  every  twenty  years,  it  is  not  diOlcult  to  conjure  our  chief  prag- 
mathst  as  chuckling  over  the  notion.  Pyrrho  was  philosophically  begat  by 
Anaxarchus,  and  Pyrrho  in  turn  begat  pyrrhonism,  vvhich  begat  the  mod- 
ern brood  of  intellectual  denicrs,  Kant  and  Hogel  at  their  head.  In  so  far 
;-.s  relates  to  monism,  Professor  James  is  as  profound  a  doubter  as  Pyrrho. 
He  would  gladly  e.xtlrpate  the  roots  of  this  system,  v.-hich  builds  from 
above  dov.nward.  lu  a  suggestive  study,  L'AhsoIu,  by  L.  Dugas  of  Paris, 
the  absolute  is  studied  as  a  pathologic  variation  of  sentiment,  "//o^so7«• 
iis7nc,  sous  toutes  ses  formes,  implique  coniradiciion;  il  vise  un  hut  ct 
vn  a'.teint  un  autre,"  a.>serts  the  French  thinker.  ^Ye  commend  this  study 
to  Professor  James.    It  may  buttress  later  arguments. 

"The  pluralistic  world,"  be  continues,  "is  thus  more  like  a  fi  Jeral 
r<^;niblic  than  like  an  empire  or  a  kingdom."  Zionism,  on  the  oilier  hand, 
bnlioves  in  the  bloeic  universe,  in  a  timeless,  changeless  condition:  "all 
t'ling:-!  interpenetrate  and  telescope  together  in  the  great  total  ccufiux." 
1  hilosophy,  v.hich  is  a  kind  of  pha-'uix  in  its  power  of  ei.acrging  from  Un 
ov,n  aslies,  always  reflects  the  Time  Spirit.  Formerly  absolute  and  n.onar- 
(bl.-al,  it  Is  now  democratic,  even  socialistic.  Pluralism  ap|)eals  to  So- 
cialists. Only  a  few  weeks  ago  J.  H.  Hosny  the  elder,  the  noveli.--t  and 
-oeial  philosonhor,  wrote  a  book  called  Li'  PhiraV.smc,  the  fir.^t  chapter 
of  which.  "Continuity  and  Change."  appeared  in  La  licvue  du  Mois  (April 
l'^).  Plurali.^m  and  prarrnuiti.'^m  have  been  in  the  air  since  Ernest  Maoh 
Mnd  Richard  Avenarin.s  published  their  important  trcatise.s.  Francis 
I'<>rber(  Pradley  6f  O.^ford,  with  his  Appc-arauoe  and  Pa-ality.  is  the  u:un 


490  2lcthocUi;{  Review  [:^^ay 

U150U  \vhom  Jnmcs  trains  liis  heaviest  artillery.  Jcsiah  Royce  is  handled 
in  A  Pluralistic  Uiiivers.T  more  gently  than  in  Pnigmatism.  We  still  hear 
of  the  "tough-unnded"  and  the  'tcndor-uiinded,"  and  v.hile  transcendental- 
ism (O,  souvenir  of  Massachusetts!)  is  pronounced  "thin,"  pluralism  is 
described  as  "thick."  As  much  as  he  dares  Professor  James  avoids  the 
conceptual  jargon  of  the  schools.  Mis  analogies,  which  are  legion,'  are 
formed  from  the  clay  of  everyday  imagery.  The  immanence  of  god  in 
the  universe  (lower-case  god)  he  admits,  but  pronounces  that  god  finite, 
not  an  All-form.  Monism  is  "steep  and  brittle"— this  for  the  benefit  of 
Oxford.  He  has  ramcd  his  empiricism  Radical  Emiiiricism  to  distinguish 
it  from  the  antique  atomistic  form.  After  that  wonderful  book  Tlie  Va- 
rieties of  Religious  Experience  v.e  are  not  surprised  to  hear  Mr.  James 
discussing  the  phenomenon  of  psychic  research— "I  myself  firmly  believe 
that  most  of  these  phenomena  are  rooted  in  reality." 

The  truth  is  that  tilles  such  as  Monism,  Idealism  and  Pragmatism 
belong  to  the  category  of  Lewis  Carroll's  portmanteau  words,  words  into 
which,  can  be  packed  many  meanings,  ilr.  JMore  has  acutely  pointed  out 
that  "in  denouncing  Platonftm  as  the  type  and  source  of  rationalistic 
metaphysics  he  [James]  had  in  mind  not  the  Greek  Plato  but  a  Plato 
viewed  through  Teutonic  spectacles."  This  is  well  put.  The  world  of 
thought  is  not  yet  through  with  Plato,  Mr.  James  included.  The  terrain 
of  mental  vision  would  be  terribly  narrov.ed  without  the  Greek. 

Two  interesting  chapters  are  devoted  one  to  Fcchner  and  his  animism, 
the  other  to  Henri  Bergson,  that  ycung  French  philosopher  who  has  at- 
tacked the  very  ramparts  of  intellectualism.  Itead  the  paragraphs  in  which 
are  set  forth  the  )mj)otcnce  of  intellectualistic  logic  to  define  a  universe 
where  change  is  continuous  and  what  really  exists  is  not  things  made, 
but  things  in  the  making:  Renan  and  his  fieri  again  newly  instrumented 
by  a  brilliant  Berlioz  of  philosophy;  also  Heraclitus  with  his  fire  and 
flux.  Y/hile  Professor  James  deprecates  the  tendency  among  the  younger 
men  to  depreciate  the  originality  of  our  latter-day  philosophies,  there  is 
no  gainsaying  the  fact  that  the  massive  wheel  of  the  World  Idea  revolves 
and  the  systems  of  yesterday  become  the  systems  of  to-morrow.  Perhaps 
this  is  the  real  Eternal  Recurrence  of  Xiet?:sche— that  Nietzsche  who  has 
been  the  greatest  dissolvi-nt  in  German  philosophic  values  since  Kant. 

Let  us  be  grateful  to  Piofcssor  James  for  his  large,  lucid,  friendly 
book;  for  his  brave  end.nnor  to  establish  the  continuity  of  experience. 
He  has  worlced  to  humanize;  rationalism,  to  thaw  tlic  frozen  concept  abso- 
lute. If  he  had  cared  to  he  might  have  dcsci-ibed  monism  as  an  orchestra 
with  a  violin  solo  perfoimer,  makijig  its  many  members  subordinate  to  the 
All-form;  while  the  j^luralistic  orchestra,  each  and  every  musician  playing 
In  harmony,  would  typify  the  Ench-forni.  Yet  dcsjiite  his  sympathy  with 
"pan-psychism"  and  certain  manifestations  of  "superhuman  conscious- 
ness," no  new  Barbey  d'Aurevilly  will  over  dare  to  advise  William  James 
—as  the  old  French  one  did  Daudeloirc — either  to  blow  out  his  brains  or 
sink  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross  and  worship.  Faith  being  the  Fourth  Dimen- 
sion of  the  human  intellect,  the  Cambridge  professor  dismisses  it;  yet 
mysticism  rages  mightily  down  P.o.sfon  way. 


1910]  Bool-  Notices  491 


BOOK   NOTICES 


RTCLTGION.     THKOLOOY,     AND     BIBLICAL     LITrUATURE 

The  Fumlnn-.cntuh.  A  Testimony.  Vol.  I.  lGr;io,  pi).  12-1  CliicaGo:  Testimony  PublLshinfi 
Corniiany.  Mailed  free  of  charge  to  :i!l  iK\.stor.s  furnisluug  tlieir  address  to  the  Testimony 
rublis!jinK  Corapany. 

No-iWiTusTANDiNG  that  many  of  our  readers  will  probnbly  receive  this 
book  by  mail,  we  wish  to  notice  it.  Tv>o  laymen  are  bearing  the  expense, 
believing  that  a  new  emphasizing  of  the  fundamentals  of  the  Christian 
faith  is  needed.  "We  have  not  spare  to  review  the  chapters  by  Professor 
James  Orr,  of  Glasgow,  Dr.  B.  B.  Warlield,  of  Princeton,  Dr.  G.  Campbell 
Morgan,  of  London,  Dr.  R.  A.  Torrcy,  Dr.  A.  T.  Pierson,  and  Canon  Dyson 
]Ia;;uo,  of  Canada,  but  we  cauuot  refrain  from  spreading  on  our  pages 
the  personal  testimony  of  ^)v.  Howard  A.  Kelly,  of  Johns  Hopkins, 
Baltimore.  To  those  wlio  have  believed  that  faith  in  the  Bible  and  the 
God  of  the  ]3ible  does  not  harmonize  with  the  modern  scientilic  spirit  the 
fullowing  testimony  from  a  distinguished  physician  and  surgeon  should  be 
of  great  value.    The  Editor  of  Appleton's  Magazine  says  of  Dr.  Kelly: 

"Dr.  Ilotcard  KcJly,  of  Baltimore,  holds  a  position  almost  tatiqi-.c  .in 
his  profcs!,iG7i.  V.'ith  academic,  i^rofcssionQl,  and  honorary  degrees  from 
the  Univcrsiiles  of  Pennsylvania,  Wa-'shingion  ami  Lee,  Aberdeen,  and 
Udinhiirgh,  his'rank  as  a  scholar  is  clearly  rccogniitcd.  For  some  twenty 
years  professor  of  ohstetrics  and  gynecology  at  Johns  Hopkins  Universiiy. 
his  place  as  a  worker  and  teacher  in  the  applied  science  of  his  profession 
has  hccn  hcyond  question  the  highest  in  America  and  Europe.  At  least 
o  dozen  learned  societies  in  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  Ilaly.  Germany, 
Austria,  France,  and  the  United  States  have  welcomed  hitn  to  mcmhcr- 
ship  as  a  master  in  his  specialty  in  surgery.  Finally,  his  published  uorls 
have  caused  him  to  be  reckoned  the  most  eminent  of  all  authurilies  in  /.is 
own  field."    Dr.  Kelly  says: 

"I  ha\e,  within  the  past  twenty  years  of  my  life,  come  out  of  unrer- 
tainty  and  doubt  into  a  faith  which  is  an  absolute  dominating  conviction 
cf  t!ie  truth  and  about  which  I  have  not  a  shadow  of  doubt.  I  have  been 
intimately  associated  with  eminent  scientific  workers;  have  heard  them 
tliscniss  the  profoujidest  questions;  have  myself  engaged  in  scientific  v/ork, 
:in(l  so  know  the  value  of  such  opinions.  I  was  once  profoundly  disturbed 
in  the  traditional  faith  in  which  I  have  been  brought  up— that  of  a 
Proifstant  Ejiiscoi)alion — by  inroads  which  were  made  up^n  the  book  of 
Ccneisis  by  the  higher  critics.  I  could  not  then  gainsay  them,  not  knowiur; 
Hebrew  nor  anhieology  well,  and  to  me,  as  to  many,  to  i.ull  out  one  gr?nt 
prop  was  to  ma];e  the  whole  foundation  uncertain.  So  I  floundered  on  for 
ffonje  years,  trying,  as  some  of  my  higher  critical  friends  are  trying  to- 
day, to  continue  to  use  the  Bible  as  the  Word  of  God  and  at  the  same  time 
holding   it   of   composite   authorship,   a   curious  and    disastrous   piore   of 


402  Methodist  Bcv'icw  [Maj 

Diental  gymnastics — a  brid.tio  over  the  chasm  separating  an  older  Bible- 
loving  generation  from  a  newer  Bible-emancipated  race.  I  saw  in  tho 
book  a  great  light  and  glow  of  heat,  yet  shivered  out  in  the  cold.  One  day- 
it  occurred  to  me  to  see  \vhat  the  book  had  to  say  about  itself.  As  a  short, 
but  perhaps  not  the  best  method.  I  took  a  concordance  and  looked  out 
'Word/  when  I  found  that  the  Bible  claimed  from  one  end  to  the  other 
to  be  the  authoritative  Woid  of  God  to  man.  I  then  tried  the  natural 
plan  of  taking  it  as  my  text-book  of  religion,  as  I  would  use  a  text-book 
in  any  science,  testing  it  by  submitting  to  its  conditions.  I  found  that 
Christ  himcelf  invites  men   (John  7.  17)  to  do  this. 

"I  now  hGlicve  the  Bible  to  be  the  inspired  ^Yord  of  God,  inspired  in  a 
sense  utterly  different  from  that  of  any  merely  human  book. 

"I  hcUcic  Jesus  Christ  to  bo  the  Son  of  God,  without  human  father, 
conceived  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  That  all  men 
without  exception  are  by  nature  sinners,  alienated  from  God,  and  when 
thus  utterly  lost  in  sin  the  Son  of  God  bims^elf  came  down  to  earth,  and 
by  shedding  his  blood  upon  the  cress  paid  the  infinite  penalty  of  the  guilt 
of  the  whole  world.  I  bolieve  he  who  thus  receives  Jesus  Christ  as  his 
Saviour  is  born  again  spiritually  as  definitely  as  in  his  flrst  birth,  and,  so 
born  spiritually,  has  new  privileges,  appelilies,  and  affections;  that  h3 
is  one  body  with  Christ  the  Head  and  will  live  with  him  forever.  I  be- 
lieve no  man  can  save  himself  by  good  works,  or  what  is  ccmmoaly  known 
as  a  'moral  life,'  such  work.s  being  but  the  necessary  fruits  and  evidence 
of  the  faith  within. 

"Satan  I  believe  to  be  tho  cause  of  man's  fall  and  sin,  and  his  rebel- 
lion against  God  as  rightful  governor.  Satan  is  the  prince  of  all  the 
kingdoms  of  this  "Korld.  yet  will  in  the  end  be  cast  into  the  pit  and  made 
harmless.  Christ  will  come  again  in  glory  to  earth  to  reign  even  as  he 
-went  away  from  the  earth,  and  I  look  for  his  return  day  by  day. 

"1  heUcvo  the  Bible  to  be  God's  "Word,  because,  as  I  use  it  day  by  day 
as  spiritual  food,  I  discover  in  my  own  life  as  well  as  in  the  lives  of  those 
•who  likewise  use  it  a  transformalioi;.  correcting  evil  tendencies,  purifying 
affections,  giving  pure  desires,  and  teaching  that  concerning  the  rightccu.s- 
ness  of  God  which  those  v.ho  do  not  so  use  it  can  know  nothing  of.  It  is 
as  really  food  for  the  spirit  as  bread  is  for  the  body. 

"Perhaps  one  of  my  strongest  reasons  for  believing  the  Bible  is  that 
it  reveal.^  to  me,  as  no  other  book  in  the  world  could  do.  that  which  ap- 
peals to  me  as  a  physician,  a  diagnosis  of  my  spiritual  condition.  It 
shows  me  clearly  what  1  am  by  nature — one  lost  in  sin  and  alienated  from 
the  life  that  is  in  God.  I  find  in  it  a  consistent  and  wonderful  revelation, 
from  Genesis  to  Revelation,  of  the  character  of  God.  a  God  far  removed 
from  any  of  my  natural  imaginings. 

"It  also  reveals  a  teridernes.s  and  nearness  of  God  in  Christ  which 
satisfio.-;  the  heart's  longing.;,  and  shows  me  that  the  infinite  God.  Creator 
of  the  world,  took  our  very  nature  upon  him  that  he  might  in  infinite  Ioto 
be  one  with  his  people  to  redeem  them.  I  believe  in  it  because  it  reveals 
a  religion  adnplod  to  all  classes  and  races,  and  It  is  intellectual  suicide 
knowing  it  net  to  bcli<;Av;  it. 


1910]  Booh  Xoiicrs  493 

"What  It  means  to  mc  ir;  as  intimate  an.'l  difTicult  a  q-jcstion  to  answer 
US  to  bo  required  to  give  reasons  for  love  of  f:!tli?r  and  motlier,  v.-ife  and 
children.  But  this  reasonable  faith  p,ives  me  a  diflerent  relation  to  family 
and  friends;  greater  tenderness  to  these  and  deeper  interest  in  all  men. 
It  takes  away  the  fear  of  death  and  creates  a  bond  with  those  gone  before. 
Tt  sliov.s  me  God  as  a  Father  who  perfectly  understands,  who  can  give  con- 
trol of  appetites  and  affections,  and  rouse  one  to  fight  with  self  instead  of 
being  scilf-contented. 

"And  if  faith  so  reveals  God  to  me,  I  go  v.-ithout  question  wherever  ho 
may  lead  me.  I  can  put  his  assertions  and  commands  above  every  secm- 
init  r^'obability  in  life,  dismissing  cherished  convictions  and  looking  upon 
the  wisdom  and  ratiocinations  of  men  as  folly  if  opposed  to  him.  I  place 
no  limits  to  faith  v/hen  once  vested  in  God,  the  sum  of  all  visiom  and 
knowledge,  and  can  trust  him  though  I  should  have  to  stand  alone  before 
the  world  in  declaring  him  to  be  true." 

Because  of  thi.s  personal  testimony  by  Dr.  Kelly,  v,-e  wish  this  pam- 
phlet might  be  read  by  every  physician.  For  human  homes  to  have  Chris- 
tian men  as  their  physicians  is  of  more  critical  importance  to  the  safety 
of  tho.-:e  homes  than  is  generally  understood.  V/e  also  transcribe  part  of 
Di-.  Warfield's  chapter  on  the  deity  of  Christ.     It  is  as  follov.s: 

"A  man  recognizes  on  sight  the  face  of  his  friend,  or  his  own  hand- 
v.riUng.  Ask  him  how^  he  knows  this  face  to  be  that  of  his  friend,  or  this 
handwriting  to  be  his  ov.'n.  and  he  is  dumb,  or,  seeking  to  reply,  babbles 
nonsense.  Yet  his  recognition  rests  on  solid  grounds,  though  he  lacks 
analytical  skill  to  isolate  and  state  these  solid  grounds.  We  believe  in 
God  and  freedom  and  immortality  on  good  grounds,  though  we  may  net 
be  alilo  sati.sfactorily  to  analyze  these  grounds.  No  true  conviction  e::isls 
v,-i(!ioii(;  adequate  rational  grounding  in  evidence.  So,  if  wc  are  solidly 
assured  of  the  deity  of  Christ,  it  will  be  on  adequate  grounds,  appealing 
to  the  reason.  But  it  may  well  be  on  grounds  not  analyzed,  perhaps  not 
analy/able,  by  us,  so  as  to  exhibit  themselves  in  the  forms  of  formal  logic. 

"V.'e  do  not  need  to  v.-ait  to  analyze  the  ground.^  of  our  convictions 
before  they  oi^erate  to  produce  convictions,  any  more  than  we  need  to  wait 
to  analyze  our  food  before  it  nourishes  us;  and  we  can  soundly  believe  on 
evidence  much  mixed  with  error,  just  as  we  can  thrive  on  food  far  from 
pure.  The  alchemy  cf  the  mind,  as  of  the  digestive  tract,  knows  how  (o 
fej)arate  out  from  the  mass  what  it  requires  for  its  support;  and  as  v.-e 
may  live  without  any  knowledge  of  chemistry,  so  we  may  possess  earnest 
convictions,  solidly  founded  in  right  reason,  without  the  slightest  knowl- 
edge of  logic.  The  Christian's  conviction  of  the  deity  of  his  Lord  docs 
not  depend  for  its  soundness  on  the  Christian's  ability  convincingly  t(» 
ttate  the  grounds  of  his  conviction.  The  evidence  ho  offers  for  It  may  Ix' 
wholly  Inadequate,  v,'hile  the  evidence  on  which  it  rests  may  be  absolutely 
comprlling. 

"The  very  abundance  and  persuasivenes.^  of  the  evidence  of  the  deity 
of  Christ  greatly  increase.s  the  diOlculty  of  adequately  staling  it.  This  Is 
true  evfn  of  tlie  scriptural  eviileuce,  as  precise  and  definite  as  much  of  It 
3?.    For  it  19  a  true  remark  of  Dr.  Dale's  that  the  particular  texts  In  whicU 


49i  Mclliodhl  Bcview  [Maj 

it  is  definitely  asserted  r.re  f:ir  from  the  whole,  or  even  the  most  impres- 
sive, proofs  whicli  ilie  Scriptures  supi'ly  of  our  Lords  deity.  He  com- 
pares these  texts  to  the  salt-crystals  which  appear  on  the  sand  of  the  sea- 
beach  after  the  tide  has  receded.  'These  are  not,'  he  remarks,  'the 
strong:est,  though  they  may  he  the  most  apparent,  proofs  that  the  sea  is 
salt;  the  salt  is  present  in  solution  in  every  buclcct  of  sea  water.'  The 
deity  of  Christ  is  in  solution  iu  every  page  of  the  New  Testament.  Every 
word  that  is  spoken  of  him,  every  v.ord  which  he  is  reported  to  have 
spoken  of  himself,  hs  spoken  on  the  assumption  that  he  is  God.  And  that 
is  the  reason  why  the  'criticism'  which  addresses  itself  to  eliminating  the 
testimony  of  the  New  Testament  to  the  deity  of  our  Lord  has  set  itr.elf 
a  hopeless  task.  The  New  Testament  itself  would  have  to  be  eliminated. 
Nor  can  we  get  behind  this  testimony.  Because  the  deity  of  Christ  is  the 
presupposition  of  every  word  of  the  New  Testament,  it  is  impossible  to 
select  words  out  of  the  New  Testament  from  which  to  construct  earlier 
documents  in  which  the  deity  of  Christ  shall  not  be  assumed.  The  assured 
conviction  of  the  deity  of  Christ  is  coeval  v%'ith  Christianity  itself. 

"Let  us  observe  in  an  example  or  two  how  thoroughly  saturated  the 
gospel  narrative  is  with  the  assumption  of  the  deity  of  Christ,  so  that  it 
crops  out  in  the  most  unexpected  ways  and  places. 

"In  three  pasages  of  Matthew,  reporting  words  of  Jesus,  he  is  repre- 
sented as  speaking  familiarly  and  in  the  most  natural  mangier  in  the 
world,  of  '/lis  angels'  (13.  41;  IC.  27;  21.  31).  In  all  three  he  designates 
himself  as  the  'Son  of  jnnn";  and  in  all  three  there  are  additional  sugges- 
tions of  his  majesty.  'The  Son  of  man  shall  send  forth  his  angels,  and 
they  shall  gather  out  of  7;i.s  kingdom  all  things  that  cause  stumbling  and 
those  that  do  iniquity,  and  sliall  cast  them  into  the  furnace  of  fire.' 

"Who  is  this  Sou  of  ntan  who  has  angels,  by  whose  instrumentality 
the  fmal  judgment  is  cxoriuted  at  his  command?  'The  Son  of  man  shall 
come  in  the  glory  of  his  Father  with  }iis  angels;  and  then  shall  he  reward 
every  man  according  to  his  deeds.'  Who  is  this  Son  of  man  surrounded 
by  his  angt-ls,  in  whose  hands  are  the  issues  of  life?  Tlic  Son  of  man 
'shall  send  forth  his  angels  with  a  great  sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  they 
shall  gather  together  Vis  elect  from  the  four  winds,  from  one  end  of 
heaven  to  the  other.'  Who  is  this  Son  of  man  at  whose  behest  his  angels 
winnow  men?  A  scrutiny  of  the  passages  will  show  that  it  is  not  a  pe- 
culiar body  of  angels  which  is  meant  by  the  Son  of  man's  angels,  but  ju^t 
the  angels  as  a  body,  who  are  his  to  serve  him  as  he  commands.  In  a 
word,  Jesus  Christ  is  above  angels  (Mark  33.  32) — as  is  argued  at  explicit 
length  at  the  beginning  of  tlie  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  'To  which  of  the 
angels  said  he  at  any  time,  Sit  on  my  right  hand,'  etr*.     (Heb.  1.  13)." 

The  Chrislinn  Pastor  in  Ihe  Xkl'  Ace.     Ry   .Ai.i.eut  Josiah  Ltman.      12ino.  pp.  17-}.     New 
York:  Thomas  Y.  Ciowcll  .V  Co.     Price,  cloth.  $1.  net. 

A  FRrsH  taste  of  the  quality  of  Dr.  Lyman,  whoso  flavor  is  rare  Ri?  1 
racy.  His  article  in  our  March  number  which  tried  to  show  "The  Spir- 
itual Beauty  of  the  Dortiine  of  Evolution"  exhibited  without  trying  tlio 
spiritual  beauty  of  A.  J.  Lyman.     As  to  his  lUness  and  preparedness  to 


J  0 1 0  J  Bool-  Xolices  40 r. 

write  tfiectively  upon  the  topic  of  the  book  nov;-  before  us.  anybody  who 
cared  to  take  the  trouble  coukl  gtt  competent  and  conscnLmeous  te?tiniouy 
by  inquiring  of  Dr.  Lyuians  iJCCi)lo  in  tlie  South  Congresatioual  Church, 
Brooklyn,  v/hich  for  thirty-six  years  has  joyously  owned  and  realized  in 
him  a  pastor  of  surpassing  acceptability  and  complete  efficiency.  Dr. 
Lyman  need  only  pour  out  upon  these  pages  the  fullness  of  his  own  pas- 
toral spirit  to  make  the  volume  glow  and  tingle  with  fine  enthusiasm, 
incandescent  enough  to  kindle  something  similar  in  us.  The  clan,  tho 
verve,  the  chivalry  of  that  pastoral  spirit  which,  marks  the  true  minister 
of  Christ  so  suffuse  and  vivify  this  book  as  to  make  it  contagious  to 
every  susceptible  ministerial  soul.  Listen  to  this  sentence,  taken  hap- 
hazard just  where  we  happen  to  open  the  book:  "The  pastor  nalizr-s,  to 
the  core,  that  bis  pastorate  is  an  offense  and  a  farce  bofore  God  and  his 
own  soul  unless  it  be  the  reflex  of  an  uncommon  striving  after  all  that  is 
high  and  fine  in  personal  character.  He  enters  thus  upon  tlie  Via 
Sanctissivia  of  his  life."  Similarly  bracing,  inspiriting,  and  summoning 
are  these  five  uplifting,  challenging,  and  exhilarating  chapters,  which  were 
given  as  lectures  on  the  George  Shepard  Foundation  at  Bangor  Theological 
Scminnry.  Nothing  is  emphasized  more  than  the  absohite  iudispensability 
of  high  personal  character  in  the  minister.  All  that  we  praise  and  advo- 
cate in  and  for  otliers  we  ministers  are  bound  to  be  and  to  do  up  to  our 
utmost  possibility.  "What  a  happy  phrase  is  this  of  Dr.  Lyman's,  "tho 
beauty  of  a  consecrated  and  winnowed  manhood"!  This  book  is  corrective 
of  the  unfortunate  misapprehension  which  makes  some  men  regard  pas- 
toral work  as  the  prosy  lialf  of  a  minister's  duty.  Dr.  Lyman  is  aware 
that  these  lectures  deal  with  what  seems  to  some  the  more  perfunctory 
and  humdrum  phase  of  our  professional  work,  as  contrasted  with  tho 
preaching  phase  of  it.  But  he  insists,  with  splendid  ardor  fiaming  up  out 
of  faithful,  joyful,  and  triumphant  pastoral  years,  that  there  can  be  no 
ideal  or  exceijent  ministerial  efficiency  unless  preaching  and  pastoral  serv- 
ice interplay;  unless  each  of  these  two  poles  of  the  ministerial  battery  is 
alive  with  the  power  shot  over  from  the  other  pole;  and  the  vital  firo  in 
both  poles  is  one.  Also  he  insists  and  makes  it  i)lain  that  the  uecesoity 
for  the  interjilny  of  these  two  poles  is  more  urgent  now  than  ever,  be- 
cauio  the  conditions  in  our  modern  age  require,  as  no  ether  age  ever  has, 
the  blendirig  of  preacher  and  pastor  in  the  figure  of  the  one  .^spiritual 
teacher  and  leader,  making  one  potent  and  prevailing  personality.  Were 
we  required  at  this  moment  to  name  the  most  valuable  chapter  in  this 
book,  wo  might  select  that  on  "The  Pastoral  Spirit,"  because  the  other 
chapters  are  in  large  degree  an  amplification  of  that  one;  and  because  tho 
minister  who  really  has  the  true  passionate  and  enthusiastic  pastoral 
Bpirit,  is  sure  to  discover  or  devise  and  to  adopt  and  master  methods  of 
work  suitable  to  his  peculiar  field  and  manageable  by  himself  with  his 
individual  constitution,  temperament,  and  training.  With  refertnce  to 
fh'.'  pastoral  calling  Dr.  Lyman  makes  three  afnrmations:  1.  The  pastor  Is 
a  human  comrade  and  counselor.  2.  He  is  a  sniiitual  sponsor  and  guide. 
3.  Ho  is  a  social  mediator  in  a  distracted  age,  amid  tho  confu.<ed  and 
warring  factions  of  our  lime.     The  solemn  le.^ponsibilily  and  surpassing 


40  G  Mclliodlst  He  view  [Y.ar 

sanctity  of  our  cnllinrj  are  impressed  bj-  our  Master's  words  concerning 
us,  "As  thou  didst  send  mc  into  the  world,  even  so  I  sent  them  into  tlie 
world."  Messiahs  we  in  our  finite  measure,  as  Christ  in  his  infiuile.  Our 
Lord's  words  are  our  warrant  for  understanding  the  ministerial  office  to 
be  not  only  fraternal  but  also  priestly  and  in  some  real  sense  authorita- 
tive. Paul  understood  himself  to  ba  a  spokesman  for  the  unseen  Eternal, 
an  amb.'issador  of  Jesus  Christ.  "As  though  God  were  entreating  by  us," 
cries  this  intcn.so,  perfervid  apostle.  Concerning  the  anointing  and  em- 
powering from  above,  those  are  some  of  Dr.  Lyman's  words:  "Something 
does  indeed  flow  down  from  Christ  into  the  minister's  heart — a  distinct 
divine  help,  though  availing  Itself  of  the  normal  channels  of  his  nature, 
appearin:^^  as  a  deepening  of  motive,  a  vivifying  of  consciousness,  a  facili- 
tating of  grovv'th,  an  nnlocUing  of  latent  power;  in  a  word,  the  realization 
of  an  impelling  force  which  fills  the  noirnal  faculties  and  channels  of  his 
being  with  a  fuller  volume  of  power,  to  help  the  minister  in  all  his  service. 
puli)it  and  pastoral."  Having  emphasized  the  fact  that  the  Christian 
pastor  must  be  the  comrade  of  all  the  souls  committed  to  his  care  or 
within  his  reach  in  such  close  and  confidence-inspiring  association  as  will 
lead  them  to  make  him  their  spiritual  confidant,  confessor,  and  adviser. 
Dr.  Lyman  shows  how  imperatively  the  conditions  of  this  present  age 
lequire  the  minister  to  be  a  social  mediator.  Seeing  in  what  a  whirling 
and  rocking  time  wo  live,  amid  the  dissolution  of  various  traditions,  amid 
intellectual,  social,  and  industrial  u])heavals  and  dislocations  and  realign- 
ments, full  of  possibilities,  wavering  perilously  yet  hopefully  b3tween  the 
disastrous  and  the  glorious;  feeling  the  acute  and  recurring  shocks  be- 
tv.-een  opposing  classes;  and  esiiecially  hoaiing  the  ominous  sound  of  the 
Bweeinng  surge  of  a  socialistic  propaganda,  half  mad,  half  prophetir: 
seeing  all  these  and  other  kindred  elements  seething  and  boiling  in  this 
modern  age,  Dr.  Lyman  ciies  out:  "O  for  a  battalion  of  ministers  who 
shall  go  forth  now  in  Christ's  name,  so  nobly  comrades  as  to  be  al^o  true 
mediators  among  men!  I  see  the  holy  and  beautiful  lips  of  the  Galila\Tn 
moving  again  as  of  old,  saying,  'Blessed  are  the  peacemalvcrs,'  the  intel- 
lectual and  spiritual  mediators  of  the  new  age.  Christian  pastors  ar-? 
called  of  the  time  and  of  God  to  be  such.  Nobody  else  can  be  such  so  well. 
The  minister  must  bo  a  mediator  now  or  fail.  He  must  explain  men  to 
themselves  and  to  one  another.  He  must  explain  man  to  man,  class  to 
class.  He  must  be  the  link  of  fellowship  between  what  else  would  fall 
asunder.  He  must  humanly  mediate  between  men,  in  order  that  ho  may 
articulate  and  reincarnate  the  spirit  of  l)is  Master's  mediation  between 
man  and  God."  Dr.  Lyman  specifies  five  main  features  of  the  pastoral 
epirit  in  action:  1.  The  chivalry  of  Christian  honor  for  men,  as  men.  2. 
The  tenderness  of  Christian  sympathy  with  men.  3.  The  renins  of  rescue. 
4.  The  passion  for  spiritual  s)tonsorship.  5.  The  cheer  of  the  invulnorablp 
Christian  hope.  The  last  two  chapters  treat  of  "The  Pastor  as  Parish 
Organizer  and  Loader."  and  "Tlio  Pastor  as  Preacher  and  Public  Rclir:lous 
Teacher."  To  the  soul  oapal)le  of  feeling  it.  this  mnnly  book  is  alive, 
quivering,  electric,  inciting  enough  to  majvo  him  a  better  minister.  Non» 
let  us  enliven  and  vary  this  notice  with  some  of  Dr.  Lyman's  Quotations. 


1910]  Booh  Xol Ices  497 

He  quotes  from  Adam  Bede  ;Mrs.  Poyster's  saying  about  the  difference 
lietwoeu  the  two  parsons  of  Ilayslope:  "Mr.  Irwirie  was  like  a  good  meal 
o'  victuals — you  v/ere  the  better  for  him  without  thinking?  on  it;  and  Mr. 
llydo  was  like  a  dose  o'  physic — he  frrippod  you  and  he  worreted  you,  and 
after  all,  he  left  you  much  the  same."  "iMr.  Ryde,"  says  Dr.  Lyman,  "rej)re- 
scnts  the  fault-finuiu^,  condemnatory  attitude  toward  humanity;  and  it  is 

falirC  and  bad No  sense,  however  poignant,  of  human  misery,  error, 

and  unlovableness,  or  even  of  the  black  depths  of  that  iniquity  in  which 
humanity  plunged  can  neutralize  the  true  pastor's  underlying  reverence 
for  tlie  liuman  creature.     -.      .  A  Christian  minister  ought  to  be  ablo 

even  to  walk  dov^n  the  white  clanking  corridor  of  the  State's  prison, 
bearing  to  the  wrecked  and  v/retched  congregation  assembled  there  to 
meet  him,  an  honor  for  'the  man  v.'ithin  the  man.'"  Speaking  of 
comradeship  our  Bangor  lecturer  says  that  it  does  not  imply  and  cannot 
tolerate  such  boisterous  bonhomie  as  is  satirized  by  Cowper: 

The  man  that  hails  you  Tom  or  Jack, 
And    proves    by    thumping    on    yuur    back 

His  sense  of  your  great  morll. 
Is  such  a  friend  that  one  bad  need 
Be  very  much  his  friend  iud'-'cd 

To  pfii'dou  or  to  bear  it. 

Halton  onco  v.rote  of  the  "gently  complaining  and  fatigued  spirit  in  which 
<'vangelical  divines  are  apt  to  spend  their  days,"  which  recalls  Dr.  Charles 
M.  Stuart's  recent  remark  about  a  certain  young  minister  having  been 
much  petted  and  coddled  by  old  women  of  both  sc::es.  Here  is  a  bit  of  Dr. 
Lyman's  experience:  '"I  once  preached  a  sermon  ou  the  parables.  After 
church,  at  dinner,  my  kind  host  turned  to  his  little  daughter,  who  had 
attended  church  with  her  father,  and  said:  ''Well,  Sadie,  can  you  tell  now 
what  a  parable  is?'  'Yes,  sir,'  said  the  little  Sadie,  promptly,  and  without 
a  suspicion  of  incivility.  'What  is  it,  my  dear?'  'It  is  this,  papa:  a  para- 
ble is  a  heavenly  truth  without  any  earthly  moaning.'  She  didn't  undcr- 
ffland  the  burst  that  followed.  I  did,  and  burnt  that  sermon.  Gentlemen. 
n):il;e  your  pastorate,  however  high  and  heavenly,  have  earthly  vicaniug." 
Take  another  morsel  of  practical  advice  from  this  Doctor  of  Divinity  who 
was  educated  for  the  medical  profession:  "Jt  secm.s  worth  while  to  sny  In 
passing — cultivate  special  friendship  with  high-toned  medical  men.  Their 
way  of  looking  at  life  is  apt  to  be  saner  than  yours.  Your  profession  and 
theirs  meet  in  the  care  and  cure  of  the  same  complex  human  i)crsonality. 
The  age-old  instinct  which  has  so  closely  aflTiliatcd  the  two  professional 
ofTlces  Is  just  and  profound— but  not  to  the  point  of  confusing  the  two 
arenas,  as  some  of  our  mushy  modern  cults  undoubtedly  do.  Never  usurp 
the  physician's  place;  but  always  respect  the  pby.-^ician's  point  of  view. 
Cornet  your  ov.n  by  it.  There  is  no  better  corrective  for  your  own  doc- 
trinaire tendency.  All  good  theolo;-':>-  can  walk  arm  in  arm  with  r^r.nA 
physirs.  Do  not  take  such  a  'header'  into  tho  'Rmmanncl  Movement'  or 
any  other,  that  you  cannot  stand  out  in  honorable,  manly,  humbh^  friend- 
iihip  with  rjicdical  men.     They  know  more  about  curing  people  thrui  you 


40  S  Mclhodi;il  He  view  [May 

or  I  linow,  or  ever  will  kuow."  For  loveliness  take  the  followiug  from  Dr. 
Lyman  (he  is  sjieaking  of  the  coiiipaiiiouship  of  Christ's  disciple-;  with 
their  Master) :  "If  there  were  time,  oue  would  love  to  try  to  sketch  that 
wonderful  Syrian  idyl,  how  'friendship  ftvav,-  from  niori^  to  more' — to  re- 
adapt  Tennyson's  delicate  jjhrase— as  that  little  baud  of  men  trudged  to 
and  fro  in  Palestine,  along  the  curving,  crowded  shore  of  Gennesarct. 
aeroi^s  the  flower-slrewn  ])lain  of  Esdraclon,  over  the  rugged  uplands  of 
Juda;a,  for  these  three  swift,  gentle  years,  sailing  in  a  boot  together,  camp- 
ing together  at  night,  and  resting  side  by  side  at  noonday  in  some  green 
outlooking  glade  of  the  hills.  The  tone  v.-as  that  of  a  steadily  deepening 
human  fellowship  with  Jesus.  They  heard  the  Galilanin  intonation.  They 
saw  the  evenly  parted  flowing  hair.  They  gazed  into  liis  face.  Tliey  be- 
came familiar  with  the  mild,  strong  brow,  the  ineffable  lit  look,  the  com- 
rade-compelling eyes.  They  became  one  with  him,  with  the  body  and 
Boul  of  him;  so  that  it  had  become  natural  at  last  for  Saint  John  to  lay 
his  older  head  upon  the  bosom  of  the  young  Master.  But  this  familiarity 
did  not  breed  satiety,  least  of  all  disrespect.  The  better  they  came  to 
know  him,  the  more  they  came  to  love  him;  then  love  whitened  into  rever- 
ence, and  reverence  hushed  itself  in  a  kind  of  wondering  homage  and 
blessed  trust,  until  the  mental  soil  hud  become  mellowed  and  sifted  and 
prepared  for  the  thrilling  enlargement  of  faith  and  consecration  which 
followed  the  resurrection,  in  which  they  took  up  their  M;ister's  mediatorial 
commission  in  his  name." 

Pa.sltr::!  Work-.      By  IN.v.  li.  C.  Jov.sT.   M..\.      10:v.o,  j.p.  123.      New  Yoik:  Ix.ngmaus,  Orrcn 
»t  Co.     i'licc.  cl  Jth.  -in  cf-nts. 

Tins  is  auotlier  .of  the  Anglican  Church  Handbooks,  several  of  which 
we  have  already  noticed.    V»'e  will  confess  that  we  did  not  conic  to  this 
Anglican  book  very  hopefully,  having  a  fear  of  finding  it  prim,  stiff,  per- 
functory, mechanical,   a  bit   dilettant.     Fairness   requires   us   to   confess 
that  it  is  not  so.    Perhaps  we  ought  to  repent  of  our  fears.     Tiie  spirit  of 
the  hook  is  sweet,  devout,  fine,  noble.     "We  have  read  it  with  almost  un- 
alloyed pleasure.    Beginning  with  the  "I'astor  at  Prayer,"  we  have  this: 
'•When  one  that  holds  commimion  with  the  skies 
Has  filled  hi.-*  urn  where  tlipse  pure  waters  rise, 
And  once  more  niinglo.';  with  us  meaner  Ibiuss, 
It  is  as  fliouiL'li  flu  an;;el  s'.iook  his  wings; 
Iinniort.il  frayranee  fills  tla-  circuit  wide, 
And  t'  lis  us  wlipnee  thoso   tn-asurcs  are  supplied. 

"Let  us  settle  it  in  our  mind.-j  once  for  all  that  prayer  is  the  o;:/y 
power  which  move.s  God's  hand,  ko  far  as  he  has  revealed  liis  ways  to  us. 
All  saints  who  have  moved  their  fellows  in  the  things  of  God  have  been 
men  or  women  of  prayer.  It  is  only  as  the  meadows  and  gardens  spread 
tljemselves  out  beneaih  the  sky  that  they  are  filled  with  life  and  fruit. 
It  is  only  as  the  wheels  and  straps  of  the  factory  arc  linked  with  tho 
power-house  that  they  can  move  at  all.  Are  we  bemoaning  a  compara- 
tively fruitless  ministry?  Look,  O.  let  us  look  at  what  happens  in  our 
times  of  jirayer.     Is  the  .sjdritual  tone  of  our  fiock,  of  our  communicant.'?. 


1910]  I^ool-  yoticcs  490 

oC  our  fellow  workers  low?  Li^L  us  look  acrain  in  the  same  place.  Have  a 
fired  tiiofc  for  niCoting  God  iu  prayer.  The  morning  is  hy  far  the  best 
tinje  for  this.  The  house  is  still.  Callers  do  not  interrupt.  The  daily 
pajier  has  not  anived.     Tlie  post  is  not  yel. 

"Lord,  v.bat  a  cliango  within  us  one  short  hour 

Spoilt  iu  tliy  proscuco  will  avnil  to  make! 

Wlial  heavy  hurdcns  from  our  ho?:oni.->  tiil<o, 
A^'liat  parched  grounds  revive  as  with  a  i;liowor! 
We  kneel,  aiul  all  arouud  us  sooui'^  to  lower; 

We  rise,  and  all,  tlie  distant  and  tlif  mar, 

Stauds  forth,  a  sunny  oiilliuo  hiavo  and  clear. 
We  kuoel,  hov,-  weak  I  we  rise,  how  full  of  power  I" 

The  oxh.ortation  to  naturalness  is  always  needed  by  every  generation  of 
preachers:  "Some  Oiio  has  said  that  all  church  worship  should  be  set  to 
music  in  'B  natural,'  while  most  of  it  as  a  matter  of  fact  is  in  'B  flat.' 
This  v.i  severe  and  often  but  too  sadly  true.  Anyhow,  it  is  extraordinary 
how  licllcs.s  and  unreal  we  can  be  iu  this  tremendous  business  of  speak- 
ing as  Cod's  a;nba-s.^.adois  to  men.  An  actor  would  be  hissed  from  tho 
stage  by  an  iudicnant  gailcry,  and  an  advocate  wait  long  for  a  second 
brief,  if  the  too  frequent  v.ays  of  the  pulpit  were  to  be  the  way  of  tho 
fontligijts  or  the  govvu.  It  would  be  v^'ell  v,-orth  while  for  the  preacher  to 
pay  an  occasional  vi.sit  to  one  of  our  higher  courts  of  justice.  Let  hlra 
Ko  there  and  study  the  vrays  of  the  successful  advocate.  He  will  see  iu 
him  much  that  will  rebuke  the  messenger  of  heaven.  He  has  mastered 
his  case  in  all  its  bearings;  he  has  made  the  interests  of  his  client  his 
own  interests;  and  he  pleads  and  reasons  with  arguments  all  marshaled 
with  masterly  slall,  riadliug  with  ridicule  or  scorn  the  case  presented  by 
the  other  side,  or  melting  with  pathos  the  heart  of  the  jurors.  He  has 
one  object  constantly  before  him,  and  to  the  attainment  of  this  the  whole 
man  and  all  his  powers  are  bent;  and,  for  the  time,  anyhow,  he  seems  to 
rare  for  naught  else  in  the  whole  world.  He  seeks  to  'pcrnuadc.  vicn.' 
Compare  with  all  this  our  ways  in  pulpit  or  class.  And  yet,  if  we  do  but 
believe  it,  immortal  interests  of  magnitude  so  vast  that  no  terms  in  hu- 
man speech  can  express  them  are  in  our  hands.  We  have  come  straiglit 
cut  of  the  presence  of  the  King,  who  has  just  given  us,  ex  hypothcsi,  an 
audience  for  the  purpo^-,e,  to  deliver  not  a  theological  essay,  but  to  pro- 
ciaim  a  message  from  him,  or  to  translate  into  terms  of  easy  coraprchen- 
sion  some  great  article  of  his  will  which  he  would  have  us  explain  to  his 
subjects.  Where,  O  where,  is  the  light  of  heaven  on  our  faces  which  such 
an  audiejice  and  such  a  task  should  spread  there?  Where  is  the  reasoning, 
tho  phading,  the  warning,  the  pressing  demands  for  a  verdict  there  and 
ihf  n?  'What  word  shall  I  bring  again  to  him  that  sent  me?"  'i'his  power- 
kssnc^s  and  incffeitiveness  in  tho  puli)it  are  explained  by  one  simple  but 
terrible  word — unnality.  This  is  the  caui^e  of  the  'Sunday  voice,'  tho 
l!.stles-=;!)Oit.s,  the  absence  of  pleading  and  tenderness,  the  disorderly  ar- 
ran;;ement  of  tho  sermon,  and,  by  consequence,  the  weariness  or  the  ini- 
ivatlence  or  emptinc.=5s  of  the  pew."  Systematic  visitation  of  the  right 
quality  is  empliasized  as  indispensable  for  any  infincntial  miniuliy:  "The* 


500  MclhocUst  Ihvicw  [Mp.t 

minister  must  give  himself  heart  and  soul  to  this  branch  of  the  duties  of 
his  callins.  How  else  than  by  this  means  can  he  seek  the  r.hecp  that  have 
gone  or  are  going  astray?  How  else  can  he  acquire  that  nearness  to  his 
people's  lives  and  th;it  l;no\vledgo  of  their  needs  which  will  make  his 
public  ministry  really  useful  to  them?  By  wliat  other  merius  will  he  be 
able 

By  day  niid  nidit  strict  guard  (o  keep, 
To  warn  the  siimor,  cliotr  the  saint. 
Nourish  tlie  lambs  and  feed  the  tbecp? 

This  can  be  possible  only  by  close,  personal,  intimate  contact  with  the 
people  in  their  homes.  ProOciency  in  scholarship,  easy  fiuency  in  pulpit 
speech,  dialectical  skill  in  argument,  good  fellov.ship  in  social  life,  rev- 
erent conduct  of  tlie  worship  of  the  sanctuary,  severity  of  self-discipline, 
mastery  of  the  truths  of  tlie  eternal  Scriptures  and  pov:er  with  God  in 
prayer  are  great  thiiigo;  and  we  must  covet  them  earnestly,  and  seek  to 
acquire  them,  and  let  a  holy  discontent  possess  us  if  they  are  not  ours. 
But  they  are  neiiher  separately  or  collectively  an  adequate  substitute  for 
the  first  condition  of  a  true  pastorate,  the  visiting  of  the  flock.  Herein 
is  found  more  than  anyv.here  else  tlie  likcne-^s  to  the  Good  Shepherd.  It 
13  the  story  of  his  .going  'away  on  the  mountains  wild  and  bare,*  of  his 
climbing  the  hills  'far  off  from  the  gates  of  gold,'  that  breaks  the  heart 
of  stone  and  furnishes  the  model  for  the  soul-seeker  to  copy.  He  'v:cnt 
about  doing  good.'  And  Saint  Paul  recalls  the  features  of  his  own  settled 
ministry  at  Ephesus  by  reminding  the  elders  of  that  church  that  he  taught 
them  from  house  to  house,  that  he  ceased  not  to  warn  evcnj  one  of  them 
day  and  night,  and  that  he  had  gone  in  and  out  amoitg  them.  Moreover, 
it  is  the  unanimous  testimony  of  ex]>oricnce  that  it  is  the  man  whom  men 
have  learned  to  know  by  their  own  fireside,  whether  in  cottage  or  raan- 
sicn,  to  Y.hose  pulpit  message  they  will  most  willingly  listen,  and  to  whom 
in  the  clcudy  and  dark  day  of  sickness  and  loneliness  they  will  most 
readily  turn."  Ou  the  matter  of  tactful  and  helpful  visit-tlon  of  the  sick 
Eome  useful  hints  arc  given:  "If  on  a  second  visit  to  the  sick  t^'c  are  told 
that  the  sufferer  is  toe  ill  or  too  tired  to  see  us,  it  is  more  than  probable 
that  we  blundered  somehow.  This,  surely,  is  not  always  so;  but  it  often 
is.  We  have  been  either  tco  loud  or  too  rough  or  too  long,  or  we  have  been 
av.kv.-ard  and  self  conscious  in  manner,  with  the  result  that  he  was  tired 
rather  than  refreshed,  and  now  he  asks  in  a  weary  way  to  be  excused. 
Well,  let  us  learn  by  our  failures  and  try  to  do  better.  Cases  of  serious 
illness  we  will  tiy  to  visit  frequently,  even  daily  or  ofiencr.  Our  visits  to 
them  will  be  short — just  a  pressure  of  the  hand,  a  brief  message  from 
God  v-cU  chosen,  and  brief,  pointed  prayer  that  docs  not  v.ander  round 
the  whole  orbit  of  spiritual  exi)erience,  but  doals  tenderly  and  j^lainly  with 
th3  sufferer's  physical  and  spiritual  need.  Though  it  be  short,  our  virit 
must  never  suggest  bustle  or  ha.=>te,  or  leave  an  agitated  atmcsphore  be- 
hind. Chronic  or  prolonged  illness  wp  must  seek  to  deal  with  in  quite  a 
different  way.  But  th-ro  mu?t  be  nirthod.  We  will  call  at  regular  Inter- 
vals, and  seek,  too,  to  ba  sy.'stomatic  in  tlie  order  of  our  leaching  in  such 
cases.     Here  v.'e  can  sit  a  little  longer  by  the  bedside.    We  Can  enter  into 


I'jlO]  Bool- Polices  501 

the  Koncral  interests  of  the  i>aticnt.  If  he  is  poor,  wo  are  probably  tbo 
cliief  medium  bet\vcou  him  and  the  outer  world,  and  we  must  try  to  carry 
a  breezy  freshness  into  the  dull  room.  A  buiuh  of  flowers  or  the  loan  of 
a  book  will  nearly  always  be  welcome.  A  long  illuoss  gives  the  pastor  his 
chanco  of  proving  in  a  multitude  of  small  v.ays  that  he  i.=5  a  real  friend, 
n  man  of  fleah  and  blood  as  well  as  spirit;  and  holy  intimacies  which  will 
la.-^t  into  eternity  will  be  formed.  He  is  his  Master's  representative,  and 
his  visits,  free  from  the  stifincss  of  officialism,  and  fragrant  with  really 
loving  interest,  will  often  be  the  outstanding  event  in  a  sufierer's  dreary 
day.  But  he  must  nev^r  h't  himself  forgot  that  he  is  before  all  else  a 
'steward  of  the  mysteries  of  God,"  and  that  'it  is  required  in  stewards 
that  a  man  be  found  faithf.il.'  It  is  the  things  that  arc  Jesus  Christ's  that 
he  has  come  to  bring."  For  the  practice  of  gentle  wisdom  and  tender  con- 
fiideration  there  is  no  such  school  or  sphere  as  the  sick-room  or  the  house 
of  mourning.  One  extreme  instance,  known  to  us,  stands  in  our  mind  as 
the  type  of  tactless  visitation.  The  sufferer  had  been  ill  a  long  time.  The 
visitor  took  a  chair  by  the  bedside,  leaned  over  the  invalid,  critically 
scrutiuiACd  the  bloodless  and  emaciated  face,  and  then  said,  abruptly, 
"Will,  ;:in't  it  amazing,  Eliza,  how  you  do  hang  on?"  Y/hcn  this 
Anglican  book  comes  to  discuss  relations  with  Nonconformists,  it  shows 
con;;lilcrable  good  sense:  "There  is  no  strong  sign  given  by  tlie  non- 
episropal  bodies  that  they  have  any  great  wish,  not  to  speak  of  deep  heart 
ycainirg,  to  come  back,  under  any  conditions  which  demand  sacrifice,  to 
the  old  fold.  Tlie  segments  of  the  circle  which  were  broken  off,  or  broke 
av.-aj'  of  their  ov.n  accord,  have  in  process  of  time  become  full-orbed  them- 
selves, and  now  sweep  along  in  an  orbit  of  their  own.  The  analog}-  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  anfl  their  processes  of  formation  is  suggestive.  The 
cunstellations  would  appear  to  have  been  formed  in  some  cases  by  nebu- 
lous aggregation  first  of  all;  that  is,  the  gradual  cohesion  of  enormous 
jnasscs  of  undefined  material  g.ithered  to  counters  as  the  result  of  very 
rapid  rotation.  Some  of  these  aggregates  in  their  earliest  efforts  would 
colH-le  with  others;  while  yet  others,  being  only  held  together  by  weak 
bonds,  would  break  up  into  sections  of  varying  dimensions;  these  in  their 
turn  (and,  again,  ns  the  result  of  revolution  In  more  or  less  well  defined 
courses)  being  formed  into  stars  of  the  minor  magnitudes.  Kut  with 
what  sublime  results  and  effects  have  these  stupendous  movements  been 
followed  under  the  governing  eye  of  Hiin  who  bringcth  out  their  hosts  by 
nuinber!  "What  a  spect.-ido  of  splendor,  majesty,  order,  and  beauty  the 
5^5'aeious  lii  mament  on  high  presents  when  no  earth-born  clouds  arise  to 
hide  or  becloud  tlie  vision!  Greater  and  smaller  macnitudcs;  greater  and 
1.'!  :-cr  distances;  varieties  of  constitution  and  chemical  ingredient;  diffcr- 
ciu OS  even  of  color  there  are;  but,  as  we  look,  wo  say  in  adoring  wonder 
tljat  they  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  that  all  his  works  praise  him. 
nrid  proclaim  that  the  Hand  that  made  thcra  is  divine.  And  who  dreams 
of  gathering  them  all  into  one  gigantic  sun?  The  Church  has  her  firma- 
iii'Ul  too.  with  its  greater  and  lesser  lights.  It  too  has  had  its  collisions, 
-nd  Its  ntbulous  opinion?  couc^'Utiated  in  wclldellnod,  full-orbed,  and 
rif;'ul-r;uliatjng  creeds.     11  too  has  seen  that  when  the  central  nucleus  held 


503  ^fcUiodisi  Review  I'M  ay 

the  outlying  elements  with  a  weakly  grasp,  these  have  brolcen  off  or 
drifted  off  to  become  in  turn  bright  stars,  themselves  working  out  their 
divinely  given  laws  accordiiijr  to  their  own  genius.  And  why  not?  Behold 
the  effects  if  riglitly  viewed!  Not  one  great  liglit  to  shine  on  the  world 
but  marv/,  some  greater  and  some  less.  If  the  figure  may  still  be  pursued, 
is  God  more  gloiified  by  one  great  Sirius  absoi'bing  into  itself,  or  even 
linking  close  to  itself,  all  the  other  ligiits  of  the  November  sky,  than  by 
the  present  method  wheieby  the  whole  vault  above  is  bespangled  with 
myriads  of  lights  of  v/hich  each  in  its  own  office  waits?  Or.  to  loo!;  else- 
where for  a  guiding  analogy,  is  the  British  army,  to  be  efficient,  to  con- 
sist of  one  regiment?  "Will  things  be  improved  by  its  officers  interchang- 
ing 'parade  grounds'?  Or  by  the  rank  and  file  tearing  their  denominational 
numbers  from  their  shoulder-straps  as  though  they  were  symbols  of  dis- 
sension? Y.'ill  the  country's  foes,  if  she  has  any,  be  more  afrrad  of  us 
when  regimental  distinctions  of  uniform  and  the  lilic  have  disapne-rod. 
and  when  tlie  troops  refuse  to  cee  any  value  in  tlic  system  which  would 
place,  say.  West  African  regiments,  with  their  weird  battle  cries  and 
quaint  attire,  under  a  different  regime  from  that  appointed  foi'  the  Second 
Life  Guards?  An  army  is  not  a  mob  or  an  unordered  crowd.  The  church 
in  the  widest  sense,  too,  has  h^r  regimental  system.  She  has  her  ranks 
distributed  under  groat  vari'?(it-s  of  leadership  and  discipline.  She  has 
cne  Commaudcr-iu-Chicf,  and  all  parts  of  the  army  hold  him  as  the  Head. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  undesirable  jealousy  and  suspicion,  and  these 
owing  to  some  unevenness  in  the  distribution  of  decorations;  but  they 
will  not  be  removed  by  attempts  at  fusion,  or  by  prescribing  uniform 
methods  of  enrollment  or  training.  The  troops  will,  when  the  last  word 
has  been  said,  best  serve  under  thc-ir  own  oflicers;  and  in  the  day  of  battle 
or  at  the  call  of  their  Divine  Conamander  they  will  go  solid  with  a  united 
front  against  the  foe.  And  such  calls  are  not  few  or  infrequent.  The 
call  to  fight  drink,  unregulated  passion,  gambling,  selfishness,  and  un- 
belief is  a  daily  cull.  In  tJie  fight  against  these  hideous  enemies  of  God 
and  the  human  race  united  action  is  called  for  and  is  possible  every  day. 
There  is  an  immense  field  of  cooperation  standing  ready  with  its  gates 
wide  open,  and  free  froin  all  ecclesiastical  tests,  which  invites  our  laboring 
hands,  where  the  rich  grain  fields  are  being  davoured  by  insidious  pests 
while  we  are  settling  at  the  gate  questions  of  precedence,  the  vesting  of 
the  reaper,  or  the  shape  of  the  sickle.  Open-air  services,  too,  furnish  ad- 
mirable opportunity  for  the  kind  of  noncompromising  cooperation  for 
which  this  page  pleads.  There  i.^  no  denominational  test  needed.  We  can 
boldly  rebuke  vice  and  lovingly  declare  God's  supreme  demands  here. 
The  AVesleyau  hand  may  wrest  from  his  grasp  v.itli  tender  comjuilslou  the 
drunkard's  tankard,  while  the  cliurchraan  may  place  there  a  draught  from 
the  pure  river  of  the  \sator  of  life;  and  both  can  return  to  tiieir  own 
proper  ministries  altogether  blessed  by  this  form  of  interchange.  Let 
pardon  be  granted  for  introducing  here  from  a  weekly  paper  an  impres- 
sion of  another  great  force  v.hich  is  working  in  the  direction  of  a  uuion 
which  involves  no  compromise  of  princiiJies — the  Kcsuick  Convention: 
'One  was  more  than  evti-  moved  by  tlu*  e.xliaordinary  beauty  of  that  girdle 


1910]  Bool-  Xoliccs  503 

of  blue-purple  hills  v.hich  surrounds  the  town  and  the  Derwcntv/afer  lalco, 
"child  of  tiie  clouds  remote  from  every  stain,"  and  also  by  the  indescriba- 
ble fragrance  of  the  air.  lu  such  a  setting  was  the  Keswicii  Coavention, 
mother  of  many  similar  sacred  Parliaments,  first  founded  by  the  holy 
hands  of  an  English  clergyman  thirty  and  odd  years  ago.  Though  neither 
possessing  nor  making  a  claim  to  be  what  is  called  a  Keswick  man,  I  arj 
yet  profoundly  convinced  that  in  these  gatherings,  so  sober,  reverent,  and 
(this  year,  anyhow)  so  free  from  the  pciils  of  mere  emotion,  God  makes 
the  place  of  his  feet  glorious.  Tlie  assemblies  in  the  tents  were  certainly 
very  remarkable  in  every  way.  Their  size,  the  great  numbers  of  clergy 
(some  being  what  are  called  High  Church  clergy),  the  large  contingents 
from  univer.^.ities  and  mission  fields,  as  well  as  the  great  numbers  of 
young  men  and  young  women  of  all  ranks — these  v/ere  features  which 
forced  themselves  on  the  notice  of  those  who  were  in  a  position  to  take 
note  of  them.  I  was,  if  possible,  more  impressed  by  the  listeners  than  by 
the  speakers.  Their  evident  keenness  to  hear  and  learn,  the  thousands  of 
IJibles  in  use  all  over  those  vast  areas,  the  strained  attention,  the  singing, 
and  the  deep  hush  which  often  swept  noiselessly  over  the  Immense  con- 
course, were  all  very  impressive  indeed.  Probably  nowhere  else  would 
quite  three  thousand  persons  be  seen  m.aking  their  way  to  an  Intercession 
Meeting  at  the  early  hour  of  seven  in  the  morning.  At  the  evening  Con- 
vention }»Ieeiings  no  doubt  many  felt  that  the  speaking  varied  in  spiritual 
power,  and  that  some  of  those  who  addressed  us  did  not  gain  the  same 
degree  of  access  to  their  hearers'  hearts  as  was  given  to  others.  The 
general  impression  remaining  in  my  mind  after  this  sacred  and  precious 
interlude  in  a  busy  life  is  that  it  was  good — more  than  good,  blessed— to 
be  there,  and  that  it  is  a  profound  loss  to  any  shepherd  of  souls,  as  v.ell 
as  to  the  flock  he  feeds,  if  he  holds  alcof  from  these  holy  convoc?.tions. 
And  I  vvrile  at  the  standpouit  of  one  who  gives  not  a  merely  official  ad- 
herence, but  a  deep  and  devoted  affecticn,  to  our  more  than  beloved  Church 
of  England.  "Jesus  stood  on  the  shore;  hut  the  disciples  knew  not  thut 
It  v.'as  Jesus." '  Men  are  coming  more  and  more  to  see  that  the  want  of 
the  hour,  the  want  that  cries  in  their  deepest  heart,  is  not  more  or  better 
organization,  but  more  power  from  God,  and  deeper  life  on  the  part  of  his 
representatives."  The  book  closes  as  follows:  "The  feature  of  a  pastor's 
holiday  which  probably  many  of  us  enjoy  most,  in  prospect  anyhow,  is 
escape  from  the  sound  of  our  door-bells.  When  things  are  right  between 
us  and  tlie  flock  there  will  be  many  coming  and  going,  and  we  cannot 
•be  hid'  any  jnorc  than  our  Master  could  in  the  days  when  he  would  hr.ve 
no  man  know  where  he  was.  Saint  Pa»il  'received  all  that  came  in  unto 
him,'  and  such  must  be  our  rule  too.  Great  preachers  there  have  been 
who  fled  to  the  British  Museum  library  to  escape  the  callers;  or  who  hung 
out  cards  on  their  study  doors  forbidding  disturbers,  whatever  might  bo 
their  business.  But  to  be  always  accessible,  and  to  bear  the  image  of  tlie 
Master  on  our  faces  in  the  presence  of  bores  and  gcs.'ips  as  well  as  of  real 
Ecekers  after  help  for  their  souls,  needs  much  ():ace.  That  image  will  be 
borne  only  by  those  who  ducll  in  the  s-fcrct  jdace;  who  lire  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God.     Apart  from  those  who  come  on  their  own  initiative  there 


504  Mdliodhl  He  view  [Maj 

are  many  in  most  confcrcgaticns  wlio,  though  they  would  Siirink  from  a 
spontaneous  openiup;  of  their  soul's  (lifficuUies  to  us,  will  yet  be  encouraged 
by  an  occasioual  informal  or  passing  announcement  that  we  are  glad  to 
see  real  seekers  at  our  homes.  The  hysterical  or  neurotic  visitor  we  will 
be  very  cautious  with.  She  (for  this  is  the  sex  of  such  as  a  rule)  does 
not  require  spiritual  consolation  at  all,  but  possibly  sea  air,  more  bodily 
exercise,  to  live  on  bettor  terms  with  her  peoiJJe  at  home,  or  some  definite 
work  which  will  take  hor  out  of  herself.  She  must  not  on  any  account 
be  encourased  to  call  on  us  often.  Men,  and  especially  young  men,  are 
greatly  drawn  to  us  by  an  invitation  to  dinner  or  tea,  especially  if  they 
are  not  merely  a  section  of  a  large  gathering.  To  be  able  to  do  this  v,'ell 
is  a  very  real  pastoral  gift.  AVe  are  in  this  social  way  likely  to  get  nearer 
to  men  than  by  pulpit  gifts,  however  great.  Both  are  good.  Neither  can 
be  dispensed  vcith.  It  is  wonderful  how  few  men  know  their  paster  well. 
A  piece  of  paper  was  kitcly  picked  up  in  a  pew.  It  contained,  in  a  man's 
writing,  a  few  notes  of  a  sermon,  with  tliis  comment  at  the  foot:  'He  is 
not  a  great  preacher,  but  he  has  wonderfully  helped  me,  and  I  feel  that 
I  could  go  to  him  in  spiritual  difuculty  more  easily  than  to  any  man  I 
know.'  " 


piiiLOSoriiY,  sciKxci:,  and  general  literature 

Essay.i  oti  Modern  Novdisti.  By  \Vili.i\m  Lyon  Phelps.  M.A.,  rii.D.,  Lampson  Professor 
of  English  Lkerafure  nt  Yale.  12!uo,  pp.  293.  New  York:  The  M.icniill.-in  Ccmpanj'. 
Price,  cloth,  Sl.f.O.  ;ici. 

A  DisTixcTLY  modern  book;  modern  in  its  subjects — William  De 
:\Iorgan,  V/.  D.  Howcllo,  Mrs.  Humphry  V>'ard,  Rudyard  Kipling,  ^Tark 
Twain,  and  the  like;  modern  in  its  authorship,  Professor  Phelps  being 
one  of  the  younger  literary  critics  of  America,  and  quite  modeiTi  in  spirit 
and  in  Btyle.  The  book  is  c\cry  way  contemporary  with  its  readers.  In 
paiticular  it  has  this  living  interest,  that  it  deals  with  authors  whose 
ultimate  repute  and  rank  are  not  yet  agreed  upon  and  decided;  so  that 
the  reader  may  feel  at  liberty  and  also  feel  able  to  have  an  opinion  of  his 
c'.vn,  to  participate  in  the  discu.ssions,  since  they  relate  to  open  qucttious 
and  estimates  and  reputations  still  debatable.  The  reader  is  not  sup- 
pressed, over-awed,  and  silenced  as  by  the  serene  and  settled  majesty  of 
established  classics.  When,  for  example.  Professor  Phelps  gives  Mark 
Twain  a  place  in  the  front  rank  and  on  the  top  level  of  literature,  the 
reader  feels  himself  on  familiar  ground,  knows  the  subject  pretty  in- 
timately, and  is  quite  likely  to  have  a  decided  and,  possibly,  a  very  differ- 
ent opinion  of  his  own.  Laigcly  this  book  deals  with  reputations  that  are 
still  in  the  making,  and  with  subjcot.s  where  there  is  still  plenty  of  room 
for  pro  and  con.  Any  place  will  do  for  us  to  strike  into  the  book.  Page 
253,  A])per.dix  B,  has  this  opinion  from  the  author:  "I  believe  tliat  the 
cardinal  error  of  a  divinity-:-.chool  education  is  that  the  candidate  for  thft 
ministry  spends  half  his  lime  in  the  laborious  ^tudy  of  Hebrew,  whereas 
he  should  study  the  subjects  that  primarily  interest  not  his  colleaguea 
Tout  his  audience. 


iOlO]  Bool-  yoliccs  505 

Tricsts 
Sliould   study  pnsrion ;   liow  els?  cure   maukind, 
"Who  coino  for  lu-lp  iu  icissiouatc  extremes? 

A  prenclier  who  knows  ITcbrov.-,  Grccl:,  sy?tcm:itic  tlieolrgy,  TCew  Testa- 
ment )meri)ielation.  and  v/ho  knows  nctiiinnf  about  literat'.iic,  liistory, 
art,  and  human  nature,  is  grotesquely  unfitted  for  his  noble  jtrofession." 
One  of  Professor  Phelps's  most  intere?ll!ig  chapters  is  on  ^Vi;liam  De 
Morf.:-,n,  author  of  Joseph  Vance,  Alice-For-Short,  Somehow  Good,  and  It 
Never  Can  Happen  Again.  One  rcmarlcable  fact  is  that  this  possibly  most 
famous  of  novelists  now  living  did  not  begin  the  first  chapter  of  his  fnf;t 
book  until  he  was  past  sixty-three  years  of  age.  He  did  moiit  cf  his  bril- 
liant and  powerful  v.-ork  and  rose  suddenly  inlo  fame  after  he  v.-as  sixty- 
five.  One  characteristic  of  De  Morgan  rnay  be  a  hint  for  preachers.  He 
never  begins  slov.ly.  Kis  books  do  not  deserve  the  descrijitioa  once  givca 
by  tiie  advertiser  of  a  certain  novel,  "This  book  goes  with  a  rush  and  ends 
with  a  siT'ash,"  but  he  always  begins  briskly.  Uc  gels  un'Ior  way  speedily 
and  plunges  at  once  into  the  very  heart  of  action.  \\'c  are  told  hew 
Tolstoy,  picking  up  a  little  story  by  Pushldn,  paused  v.ith  'h.light  on  the 
first  sentence,  "The  guests  began  to  assemble  the  evening  before  the  fete.'' 
"That's  the  way  to  begin  a  story,"  cried  the  great  Russian.  "The  reader 
is  taken  at  one  stroke  into  the  midst  cf  the  action.  Another  writer  v.ouM 
have  commenced  by  describing  the  guests,  the  rooms,  while  Pushkin  g&;s 
straight  at  his  goal."  Be  Morgan's  books  are  vivacious  at  the  start;  a  sens:? 
cf  action  c.tir3  in  the  first  scene.  It  is  well  for  the  preacher  to  get  the 
attention  cf  his  audience  at  the  start,  by  saying  something  signific.-^.ut  in 
his  opening  paragraph.  Prolongation  of  preliminary  palaver  (as  Dr. 
Johnson  might  have  expressed  it)  has  ruined  many  a  sermon.  Of  two 
successive  pastors  in  a  prominent  Nev,-  York  city  church  it  was  said:  "It 
took  the  first  one  twenty  or  thirty  ininute.=;  to  get  under  \<ny.  His  suc- 
cessor strikes  twelve  in  th.c  first  sentence  and  keens  on  striking  all  the  wny 
through."  The  second  of  these  v.-as  Cyrus  D.  Foss.  His  first  sentence 
fixed  attention  like  the  clear,  high  sound  of  a  buglo,  and  from  then  to 
the  end  all  was  movement,  meaning,  and  incitement.  Of  such  preaching 
nobody  can  .say,  as  a  little  girl  said  of  a  certain  speaker,  "lie  talked  and 
tnlkf d  and  talked,  and  v.e  all  thought  he  was  going  to  say  something;  but 
he  didn't."  Profe:?sor  Phelps  snys  that  De  Morgan  might  have  prefixed 
to  all  his  novels  the  word.'?  which  Browning  piefixcs  to  "Sordello":  "My 
stress  lay  on  the  incidents  in  the  development  of  a  soul;  little  cl.-e  is  worth 
study."  In  Joseph  Vance  the  following  remark  of  Dr.  Thon)o  is  siid  to 
express  both  the  philosophy  of  De  Jilorgan  and  the  basal  moral  principle 
underlying  the  whole  book:  "The  highest  good  is  the  growth  of  the  soul, 
and  the  greatest  man  is  he  who  rejoices  most  in  great  fuifiUnu-nts  of  the, 
Avill  of  God."  Our  author  notes  that  Do  ?»Iorgan  is  a  bit  shamefaced 
when  lie  talks  about  the  deopest  things,  the  things  that  really  interest 
him  mo.^,t.  His  Reverend  Mr.  Cai)Stick  is  far  from  being  an  Ideal  type. 
"1,'ut  he  has  one  characteristic  that  we  might,  to  a  certain  extent,  imitate; 
lit;  s'-cs  no  reason  to  apologize  for  convcr.^ing  on  groat  topics,  or  to  break 


oOG  Milhoilht  ncvicw  [May 

up  such  a  convcisuticu  v.iti;  an  embarrasssd  laug-h.  Most  of  us  are  hor- 
ribly afraid  of  btiaLc  taken  for  sr.ncliniouious  persons,  when  there  is  not 
the  slightost  daut;er  of  it.  W'c  are  always  pleasaiiUy  surprist^d  Avhen  we 
discover  that  our  friends  arc  at  heart  just  as  sciious  as  we  are,  and  that 
they,  too,  resrot  tho  mask  of  liippanoy  that  our  Anglo-Saxon  false  modesty 
coiMpcls  us  to  wear.  It  is  noted  that  in  De  Morgan's  books  all  the  char- 
acters that  he  loves  show  aoal-dcvcloinnenl ;  the  few  characters  that  are 
unlovely  liave  souls  that  do  not  advance.  JIo.st  of  his  characters  have  the 
inner  man  renev.-ed  day  by  day;  and  the  reader  feels  that  at  physical 
death  such  personalities  inocecd  naturally  into  a  sphere  of  eternal  prog- 
ress. But  he  has  some  clKuactors  v^hose  souls  stand  still;  and  the 
reader  finds  himself  tliinking,  'Why  should  they  live  forever?'"  This  is 
the  distinction  v.hich  De  ^.lorgan  seems  to  make  between  people  -who  are 
fundamentally  good  and  those  who  are  fundamentally  bad.  Another 
thing  noted  by  Professor  Phelps  in  De  Morgan's  books  i.s  the  po- 
tent influence  of  good  v.oracn  en  men's  lives.  It  is  truly  said 
that  the  tone  and  signifieauce  of  Guy  de  Maupassant's  v/orks  would 
be  completely  changed  if  he  had  included  some  women  who  com- 
bined virtue  with  personal  charm.  We  quote:  "Young  Joseph  Vance  was 
fortunate  indeed  in  having  in  bis  life  the  pov.erful  infiuonce  of  two  such 
characters  as  Lossie  Thorpe  and  .Taney  Spencer.  They  were  what  a  com- 
pass is  10  sailor,  i.i!;ing  hiiu  straight  on  his  course  through  the  blackest 
storms.  It  was  for  Lo.Sbie  tliat  he  made  the  greatest  sacrifice  in  his  whole 
existence;  and  nothing  pans  a  hifjhcr  rate  of  moral  interest  than  a  bij 
sacrifice.  It  was  Janey  who  led  him  from  the  grossness  of  earth  into  the 
spiritual  world— something  that  Lossie,  with  all  her  loveliness,  could  not 
do.  De  Moigan's  women  show  that  there  is  nothing  inherently  dull  in 
goodness;  it  may  be  accompanied  with  some  esprit.  We  are  too  apt  to 
think  that  moral  goodI)e^s  is  represented  by  such  persons  as  the  elder 
brother  in  the  story  of  the  prodigal  son,  whereas  the  parable  indicates 
that  the  younger  brother,  with  all  his  crimes,  T>-as  actually  the  more  virtu- 
ous and  lovable  of  the  two."  Professor  Phelps  says  that,  in  De  Morgan's 
novels,  "Salvation  often  assumes  a  feminine  shape."  Another  thing  to 
De  Morgan's  credit  is  that  he  creates  "orthodox  believers,  like  Lossie's 
husband  and  Athelstan  Taylor— big  v.'holesome  fellows— and  deliberately 
inal;es  them  irresistibly  attractive.  The  professional  parson  is  often  ridi- 
culed in  modern  novels;  but  in  De  Morgan's  book  the  only  important 
character  who  combines  intelligence  with  virtue  is  the  Reverend  Athelstan 
Taylor."  Speaking  of  Kipling,  Professor  Phelps  says  that  he  had,  tv.-enty 
years  ago,  "wliat  the  Methodists  call  'liberty.'"  Writing  of  Thomas 
Hardy,  he  says:  "Every  man  must  love  something  greater  than  himself, 
and  as  :Mr.  Hardy  had  no  God,  he  has  drawn  close  to  the  world  of  trees. 
plains,  and  ri\eis."  All  the  god  Hardy  knows  is  a  hideous  and  savage 
monster.  Of  course  he  is  a  bitter  and  utter  pessimist.  We  are  not  able 
lo  i-hare  our  author's  admiration  for  this  pessimism,  even  granting  that 
Hardy  was  sincere  in  it.  Wo  cannot  concede  dignity  or  iniiner^siveness 
or  sanity  to  Hardy's  conception  of  God  as  "a  kind  of  insane  cliihl  who 
cackles  foolishly  :i6  he  destroys  the  most  precious  objects."     In  truth,  wu 


10 10 J  llooL- ]\'o[!ces  50 T 

have  no  rcfrpoct  v.-hatevev  for  such  a  conception.  Hardy's  ccnrcption  is  as 
unworthj'  and  intolerable  as  the  God  ho  imagines.  And  such  a  coucciJtion 
makes  Hardy  absurd.  The  nature  of  Hardy's  women  may  be  inferred 
from  the  fact  that  one  woman  reader,  exasperated  and  outraged  at  his 
female  characters,  wrote  on  the  margin  of  one  of  his  books,  "O,  how  I 
hate  Thomas  Hardy!"  Professor  Phelps  says  Hardy  rcprescufs  his  women 
"as  swayed  by  sudden  and  constantly  chanE,ing  caprice,  clianging:  their 
minds  oficuer  than  they  change  their  clotiics.  "And  they  all  resemble 
their  maker  in  one  respect:  at  heart  cveiy  one  of  them  is  a  pagan.  It  is 
human  passion,  and  not  religion,  that  is  the  mainspring  of  their  lives.  He 
has  never  drawn  a  truly  spiritual  wcmau,  like  Browning's  Pompilia" — 
who,  we  may  add,  is  almost  if  not  quite  the  most  spiritual  woman  in  all 
poetry  or  fiction.  Yv'riting  of  BjiJrnstjerue  Bjorncou,  our  author  says  that, 
in  one  of  this  novelist's  books  a  variety  of  educational  theories  are  aired, 
but  "the  chief  one  appears  to  be  that  in  the  curriculum  for  younc  girls  the 
Tiiajor  study  should  be  physiology.  Hygiene,  which  so  raany  bewildered 
persons  are  accepting  just  now  in  lieu  of  the  gcspcl,  plays  a  heavy  i)art 
in  Bjiiruson's  later  v/crk.  The  gymnasium  talces  the  plai-e  of  the  clnircl: ; 
and  acrobatic  feals  of  the  body  are  dccrncd  more  healthful  than  the  re- 
ligious aspirations  of  the  soul.  One  of  the  characters  usually  appears 
v.-alking  on  his  hands,  which  is  not  the  only  way  in  which  he  is  up;:i(k- 
down."  Professor  Phelps  thinks  "\V.  D.  Howells  has  had  more  influence 
on  the  output  of  fiction  in  America  than  any  other  living  man,  but  rates 
Mark  Twain  as  "our  foremost  living  American  writer."  As  a  sample  of 
Twain's  humor  this  is  quoted  from  Following  the  Equator:  "We  sailc;! 
for  America,  and  there  made  certain  preparations.  This  took  but  little 
time.  Two  members  of  ray  family  elected  to  go  with  me.  Also  a  car- 
buncle. The  dictionary  says  a  carbuncle  is  a  kind  of  jcv.el.  Humor  Is 
out  of  place  in  a  dictionary."  Huckleberry  Finn  seem.s  to  our  essayist  a 
v.oudorful  boy,  "the  child  of  nature,  harmless,  sincere,  aud  crudely  ii;i- 
cginative.  His  reasonir.gs  with  Jim  about  God  and  ui.tuic  belong  to  the 
fame  department  of  natural  theology  a.s  that  illustrated  by  l-irov.-nir.g's 
Caliban.  The  night  on  the  raft  with  Jim.  when  these  two  creatures  Icol: 
::Icfl  at  the  stars,  and  Jim  reckons  the  moon  laid  them  like  e.ggs,  is  a  case 
in  point:  "We  had  the  sky  up  there,  all  speckled  with  stars,  and  v/e  u.~o,l 
10  lie  en  our  backs  and  look  up  at  them,  and  discuss  whether  they  was 
made  or  just  hapijened.  Jim  he  allowed  they  was  made,  but  I  allov.-ed 
they  hapjiened;  I  judged  it  would  have  took  too  long  to  vnkc  so  many. 
Jim  said  the  moon  could  'a'  laid  them;  well,  that  looked  kind  of  rea^ouabK-. 
so  I  didn't  say  anything  against  it,  'cause  I've  seen  a  frog  lay  most  vs 
many,  so  of  course  it  could  be  done.  We  usod  to  watch  the  stars  that 
fell  too.  an.l  see  them  streak  down.  Jim  allowed  they'd  got  spoiled  and 
was  hove  out  of  the  nost.' "  Louis  Stcven?on  loved  Sir  "Walter  Scott,  y«.t 
f;aid:  "it  is  nndeniabin  that  the  lovo  of  sl.ip-da.sh  and  shoddy  grew  v.pon 
Scott  r'.!;.Tig  with  success.  He  had  splendid  gifts.  How  comes  it.  then, 
tiint  he  could  so  often  fob  us  off  with  lan:uiid,  inarticulate  twaddle?" 
Wonder  if  there  i.s  any  minister  in  neod  of  that  hint?  How  much  mere 
Kalutarv  is  Siovousom's  influence  than  Havdy's!     Of  him  l'rofos.sor  Pli.^'.i-- 


503  2I(lJiodii>l  Review  [May 

truly  says:  "His  cptiniisrn  v.-as  based  en  a  chronic  experience  ot  physical 
pain  and  wcaknoss;  to  him  it  was  a  good  world  and  he  made  it  distinctly 
better  by  his  prcFcnce.  lie  w.-is  a  combination  of  the  Bohemian  and  the 
Covenanter;  ho  had  all  the  graces  and  chnrm  of  the  one  and  the  bc-drock 
moral  earnestness  of  the  other.  'The  world  must  return  some  day  to  the 
word  Duty,'  said  he,  'and  be  done  with  the  word  Reward.' "  Here  is  an 
auuising  as  Avell  as  inztrnctive  bit  about  Herbert  Spencer.  His  friends 
selected  a  certain  woman  as  his  potential  spouse.  They  shut  him  up  with 
her,  and  av.-aited  the  result  with  eascrness.  They  had  told  him  that  she 
bad  a  great  mind;  but  on  emorftih'^  from  the  trial  intervicv.-  Spencor  re- 
marked that  she  would  not  do  at  all.  "The  lady  is,  in  my  opinicn,  too 
highly  intellectual;  or,  I  should  rather  say,  morbidly  intellectual:  a  small 
brain  in  a  state  of  intense  activity."  Professor  Phelps  says  this  formula 
fits  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward's  b.eroines.  A  thoroushly  niodcrn  boo::  in  the 
dialect  of  tiie  twentieth  century  is  this  volume  on  modern  novelists. 


KISTCr.Y,    EIOGH.\PHY,    A'SD    TOPOGRAPnY 

Thohhrn  end  In-'id.  E^litcc' V.y  WiLrivs:  IIiiNT.Y  CRAwroiin  President  of  AJlcgiicny  Col'c-e. 
Crown  6vo,  |>;..  1'0.5.  .N'cv.-  Yor!;:  Eatoa  iv  Mains.  C'iucuinati:  Jt-nniDirs  &.  Giabii.'n. 
I'rice,  cioui,  ?1,  net. 

Tin:  cGlsbraiioii  of  the  fiftiolh  anniversary  of  Bishop  James  M.  Tho- 
burn's  first  sailln-  for  India  was  held  at  Allegheny  College  and  occupied 
three  days.  Tiiis  volume  is  a  report  of  all  that  was  said  and  dci:e  in  that 
very  notable  celebration  of  the  life  and  worli  of  a  most  remarkable  man. 
Here  are  Dishop  Thobuiu's  semicentennial  sermon  and  all  the  addresses 
delivered  by  men  gathered  fro.ni  far  and  near  at  the  call  of  President 
Crav.  ford.  Seldom  has  ar.y  celebration  been  planned  and  managed  v.ith 
such  admirable  skill.  Throu;;!!  the  deep  impressions  made  at  the  time, 
and  through  the  circulation  of  the  volume  now  before  us,  the  influence 
of  that  unioi-e  commemoration  will  be  wide  and  lasting.  This  is  an  in- 
spiring vclvme.  The  spirit  of  i!ii:.:sions,  the  passion  for  saving  men,  the 
glorious  gospel  of  redemption  by  Jesus  Christ,  flame  through  its  pages. 
It  is  a  valuable  addition  to  the  burning  and  luminous  literature  which  is 
kindling  the  faith  and  zeal  of  Christendom  to  a  white  heat  for  the  cap- 
ture of  heaibL-ndom  for  Christ.  AYe  are  living  in  a  rushing  time.  The 
forces  of  Christianity  are  being  mobilized.  A  new  era  for  foreign  mis- 
sions is  at  hand.  This  volume  is  a  treasure-house  of  significant  facts  and 
living  thought,  not  of  essays  and  disquisitior.s,  but  of  strenuous  and 
stiring  speech,  full  of  lift  and  swing  and  go.  A  few  extracts  may  confirm 
wiiat  we  have  said.  ^Ye  open  at  Dr.  Ilerben's  address  on  "High  Ideals 
for  High  Service,"  and  find  this  militant  bit,  suited  to  make  some  good 
soldiers  for  Jesus  Christ:  "Theie  is  a  story  of  the  Scotch  Guards  and  the 
experlition  to  Ashanti.  The  Guards  were  called  upon  to  engage  in  n 
perilous  undertaking.  The  colonel  frankly  told  his  men  that  not  many 
of  thorn  would  return  alive.  No  man  was  ordered  to  go.  Wut  volunteers 
were  called  for.     And  so  tlic  (.idoiicl  said.  'Ai^y  man  v.  ho  will  volunteer 


liaO]  Bool-  yoticcs  5oa 

will  5tep  one  pace  to  the  front,"  and  tlien  he  turned  his  back  to  them  ?o 
as  not  to  embarrass  them  in  their  decision.  After  a  moment  he  faced 
the  line  a^ain.  It  was  without  a  break.  Anger  arose  in  his  heart,  and 
leaped  to  his  face.  'What,'  said  he  in  hot  wrath,  'the  Scotch  Guards  and 
not  a  vo'.ur.tecrl'  Whereupon  a  soldier  stepped  from  the  ranks,  saluted 
his  commander,  and  said,  'Colonel,  the  whole  line  has  stepped  forward.' 
That  was  the  spirit  of  conquest.  That  is  the  spirit  we  need  to  take  this 
world  for  Jesus  Christ."  Another  bit  from  President  Hyde,  of  Bowdoin. 
appealing  to  students  in  behalf  of  Jesus  Christ:  "Start  where  you  will  in 
the  moral  world,  if  you  foHow  principles  to  their  conc'.usions  they  always 
lead  you  up  to  Christ.  Ke  touched  life  so  deeply,  so  broadly,  and  so  truly 
that  all  brave,  generous  living  is  summed  up  in  him.  Starting  with  the 
code  you  have  here  worked  out  for  yourselves,  translating  it  into  positive 
terms,  and  enlarging  it  to  the  dimensions  of  the  world  you  are  about  to 
enter,  your  code  becomes  simply  a  fresh  interpretation  of  the  meaning  of 
the  Christian  life.  All  that  we  have  been  saying  has  its  counterpart  in 
that  great  life  of  his.  He  gave  his  best,  and  how  good  and  beneficent  It 
was!"  Here  i.s  a  bit  from  the  biography  of  Alice  Freeman  Palmer  con- 
corning  her  service  for  others:  "There  was  in  her  a  -vra-ctefulness  like  tliat 
of  ilie  blossoming  tree.  It  sometimes  disturbed  me,  and  for  it  I  occa- 
sionally look  her  to  task.  'Why  will  you,'  I  said,  'give  all  this  time  to 
6pcj.king  before  uninstructed  audiences,  to  discussions  in  endless  commit- 
lei^-i  with  people  too  dull  to  know  whether  they  are  talking  to  the  point, 
and  to  anxious  interviev^'s  with  tired  and  tiresome  women?  You  would 
exhaust  yourself  less  in  writing  books  of  lasting  consequence.  At  present 
ycu  are  building  no  monument.  When  you  are  gone  good  people  will  aik 
who  you  v^-ere,  and  nobody  will  be  able  to  say."  But  I  always  received 
tlio  s.-ime  indifferent  answer:  'Yv^ell,  why  should  they  say?  I  am  trying 
to  make  girls  wiser  and  happier.  Books  don't  help  much  toward  that. 
Tl:cy  are  really  dead  things.  Why  should  I  make  more  of  them?  It  is 
p-ople  that  count.  You  want  to  put  yourself  into  peop'e.  They  touch 
oilier  peop?e,  these  others  still,  and  so  you  go  on  working  forever.'  "  Of 
tho  preeminence  of  missionaries  Dr.  Herben  says:  "The  missionary  is 
held  ill  high  esteem  wherever  his  work  is  known.  The  idea  of  sacrifice 
l.i  alv.Mvs  asiOciatcd  with  him.  He  is  looked  upon  as  one  who  endures 
har.lihip  as  a  good  soldier  of  the  cross.  He  is  on  the  fighting  line.  He 
niakt's  up  'the  thin  red  line  of  heroes'  that  is  bringing  the  distant  peopL^s 
Into  subjection  to  Je^us  Christ.  No  wonder  he  is  held  in  deep  affection 
the  v.hole  world  around.  The  late  Dr.  John  Watson  said  of  the  mission- 
aries: 'We  second-rate  fellows  here  at  home  are  the  miiitia:  a  very  rc- 
Flicctable  lot  of  hardworking  men,  but  just  militia.  They  are  the  fightin:< 
Hi.f.  Theirs  are  the  medals  with  the  bars.  They  are  our  Victoria  Cro.-^ 
nu-n.'  And  a  short  time  ago  the  head  master  of  a  famous  boys'  school  In 
.^liUiachusotts  declared:  'I  have  much  to  do  with  boys;  and  I  would  rather 
have  one  of  my  boys  become  a  foreign  missionary  than  President  of  t'.'.«^ 
I  nit'-d  States.  The  work  of  missionaries  is  the  grandest  in  the  whole 
world,  and  the  missionaries  are  the  heroes  of  modern  times."  lu  Bishop 
McDowell's  thrilling  speech  we  feel  the  onset  and  urge  of  a  living  soul  and 


510  Method  is  t  He  view  [-^I«y 

a  quickening  spirit.  Hear  him:  "Profps'r.or  James  has  discussed  the  need 
of  a  modern  ecjuivaleut  for  v.ar  as  an  occupation.  What  makes  war  so 
appealing  to  youth?  Weil,  war  seems  to  eager  and  ardent  spirits  to  be  a 
thing  worth  going  into.  I  doubt  not  there  are  men  back  here  on  this 
campus  this  week  who  were  on  this  campus  in  the  early  '60's:  who  thought 
that  their  lives  would  be  quite  well  pporit  if  they  gave  those  lives  to  the 
service  of  the  nation.  And  I  do  not  doubt  that  on  this  camp-as  men  quit 
singing  'Lauriger  Ilorativ.s'  and  all  the  rest  of  the  college-  songs  thoy 
knew  and  began  to  sing,  'We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,'  and  v.ere  glad 
of  the  chance,  counting  not  their  lives  dear  unto  themselves.  Now,  what 
is  the  modern  equivalent  for  v.-.ar  in  its  ?ppc-al  to  college  youth?  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  say  that  the  church's  missionary  enterprise  is  the  one  largtac 
appeal  that  it  has  to  nia'/.e  to  youth  this  day.  In  the  fir^t  place,  this  is 
the  one  thing  that  is  v.ok  lest  tcorth  doing.  And  college  follows  want  to 
be  into  the  things  that  are  best  worth  doing.  In  the  second  place,  this 
missionary  enterprise  offers  to  the  college  youth  fellowship  icith  the  peo- 
Vlc  that  are  iest  icorth  kiwuing.  And  in  the  third  place,  it  gives  them  a 
chance  to  tell  the  storif  that  is  oest  tcorth  telling"  Eishop  McDov.-cll 
tells  what  his  sick  daughter  said  to  him  on  the  eve  of  the  Student  Vol- 
unteer Missionary  Convention  at  Nashville:  "I  went  to  that  convention 
under  painful,  pitiful  circumstances.  My  college  youngster  seemed  that 
week  near  the  end  of  her  earthly  life,  though  she  rallied  and  lasted  a 
year  after  that.  I  said  on  Saturday  night,  'I  do  not  see  how  I  can  go  to 
the  convention.'  She  knew  of  my  engagement  there,  and,  calling  me  to 
her,  sh^  said:  'Daddy,  I  will  not  slip  away  while  you  are  gone.  And  there 
will  be  all  those  stiidc-rits  at  Nashville.  You  go  down  and  tell  them  that 
any  one  of  them  who  .gets  a  chance  to  tell  the  story  of  Jesus  Christ  any- 
where in  the  world  ought  to  jump  at  it.'  "  One  more  bit  fiom  Bishop 
J.lcDowell:  "I  was  the  other  day  up  at  IMadison,  Wisconi-in,  and  sat  down 
to  breakfast  in  the  hotel  alone.  Presently  a  fine  young  fellow  sat  down 
opposite  me.  He  was  all  full  of  his  own  affairs.  It  was  evidently  one  of 
his  early  trips  out,  and  he  wanted  to  talk  about  things.  After  we  had 
exchanged  the  courtesie.^  of  the  morning  he  asked  me  if  I  was  a  traveling 
man,  and  I  said  I  was.  'Yes,'  he  said,  'so  am  I.'  And  he  went  on  to  tell 
me  that  he  was  in  the  jewelry  business,  and  I  said  I  was  in  the  jewel  busi- 
ness myself — 'When  he  cometh  to  mako  up  his  jewels,'  you  know.  He 
said,  'I  am  in  business  with  my  father.'  I  said.  'I  am  in  business  with 
my  Father.'  He  said,  'My  father  started  the  business  long  ago,  and  ho 
has  taken  me  into  partnership  with  him.'  And  I  said,  'My  Fat'aor  started 
the  busine:^5  long  ago,  and  I  am  in  partnership  with  him.'  He  looked 
at  me  a  minute  and  he  said,  'I  have  a  su.=;plcion  that  you  are  guying  mo.' 
I  said,  'No,  I  am  a  Methodift  preacher  and  a  Methodist  bi.'^k.op.  and  I  arn 
in  business  with  my  Father,  in  the  business  he  started,  and  he  took  me 
into  partnership  with  him.'  That  is  it — the  business  our  Father  starteil, 
and  took  us  into  partncr.-fiip  with  him,  the  business  of  telling  the  story 
of  Jesus  Christ  and  his  redemption.  The  appeal  to  college  men  and 
women  on  the  basis  that  llie  thing  is  worth  doing,  and  the  folks  are  worth 
knowing,  and  tho  story  is  worth  telling,  will  awaken   its  own  response." 


1010]  Boole  X  at  ices  511 

Dr.  John  W.  King  told  this  story  of  young  James  M.  Thoburn's  first  return 
from  India  on  a  furlougli:  "lie  invited  his  sister  one  day  to  tal;e  a  walk 
with  him.  They  followed  the  road  leading  to  the  schoolhouse  on  the  pike, 
whither  he  had  so  often  gone  as  a  lad.  He  said  to  her,  'I  am  tempted  to 
stay  at  home  and  not  go  back  again  to  India.'  'You  had  a  call  from  God 
to  go,  did  you  not?'  'Certainly  I  did,'  was  the  reply.  'Have  you  the  same 
kind  of  a  call  to  stay,  flattering  as  the  offers  are  to  do  so?'  'I  do  noc 
think  so,'  answered  the  young  missionary,  and  the  sister  answered,  'Much 
as  we  should  love  to  have  you  with  us,  you  would  better  follow  the  divine 
leading.'  Later  this  same  sister  was  called  to  the  mis.sion  field.  Her 
noble  work  for  and  with  the  women  of  India  is  well  knovrn."  Eeviev.-ing 
the  great  Thoburn  Jubilee,  President  Crawford,  of  Allegheny  College, 
says:  "In  trying  to  think  over  all  that  happened  in  the  three  days,  I  f»nJ 
myself  settling  down  to  the  thought  that  the  most  impressive  feature  of 
the  Jubilee  was  Bishop  Thoburn  himself — quiet,  modest,  unas.'^uming. 
apparently  altogether  undisturbed  by  what  was  going  on;  hearing  and 
seeing  everything,  responding  to  every  recognition  with  the  simple  dignity 
of  a  saint;  eyes  filled  up  at  times,  voice  choking,  but  always  giving  tiie 
impression  that  the  strong  Son  of  Gcd  was  by  his  side.  When  one  of  ilie 
speakers  in  the  closing  words  of  his  address  turned  to  Thoburn.  strong 
men  cried  like  children;  the  whole  audience  was  moved  and  melted  at  the 
recognition  given,  and  quietly  joined  with  the  dear  bishop  in  giving  God 
fJl  the  glory." 


MISCELLANEOUS 

The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God.  Bj-  Willia\!  Newton  Clarke,  D.D.,  Professor  in  Coljrate 
University.  12iiio,  rP-  xiv.  477.  liitcmstional  Thcolo,;ic«vl  Library.  New  York  : 
Charled  Scribner's  Sons.    Price,  cloth,  S2.50,  net. 

This  treatise,  which  in  the  times  of  recitation  method  in  professional 
instruction  might  be  well  used  as  a  theological  text-book,  is  presented 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  secular  thinker  who  is  evidently  much  affected 
by  the  scientific  temper  of  the  age.  The  method  differs  widely  from  that 
of  the  celebrated  Professor  Charles  Hodge  in  his  famous  work  on  Syste- 
matic Theology  forty  years  ago,  that,  especially  in  the  department  of 
theology  proper,  commanded  the  respectful  consideration  and  appreciation 
of  many  eminent  scholars.  Professor  Clarke's  production  is  most  welcome 
bLT.ause  it  is  suited  to  the  spirit  of  the  times,  recognizing  the  importance 
of  the  conclusions  which  the  investigations  of  Charles  Darwin  and  other 
scholars  in  the  same  field  have  necessitated.  The  recent  achievements  in 
the  study  of  psychology  arc  also  utilized.  While  the  book  propc>;es  to 
present  the  Christian  doctrine  of  God,  there  is  scant  quotation  of  Scrip- 
ture texts,  though  such  as  are  chosen  are  delightfully  apt  and  forcible, 
showing  that  the  writer  accepts  the  authoritative  validity  of  the  Inspired 
Word.  He  distinctly  avers,  however,  that  much  of  man's  e.xperimental 
knowledge  of  the  Deity  is  derived  from  other  sources.  Valuable  a.s  may 
be  the  Hebrew  conceptions  of  God  as  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament,  to 
which  Christianity  is  so  greatly  ind-jbted,  the  beliefs  founded  c:i  the  gospel 


i>12  MclhccUsi  Bcvieiv  [^J^ay 

have  been  profitablj-  developed  by  reverential  inquiry  and  investigation 
apart  froni  the  study  of  the  Holy  Bible,  and  thus  new  statements  of  the 
doctrine  must  be  made  from  tim.e  to  time.  The  faith  of  the  Christians  is 
elucidated  rather  than  defended.  "Religion,"  soys  Professor  CIarl:e.  "is 
the  clearest  way  to  the  knowledge  of  God."  JIojioia£i.=m  is  stoutly  affirmed. 
diiTering  from  philosophical  monism  in  that  Christianity  claims  the  coni- 
forts  and  other  benefits  of  a  divine  Personality  who  is  transcendaat  in 
relation  to  his  universe.  There  are  no  conflicting  elements  in  the  char- 
acter of  God,  and  his  creatures  may  rely  on  his  goodness  with  absolute 
confidence.  The  Trinitarian  doctrine  of  the  Godhead,  as  revealing,  re- 
vealed, and  abiding,  is  realized  in  personal  experience,  and  appears  as  an 
integral  feature  in  man's  sidritual  being.  It  affirms  triunity,  but  de- 
nounces trithci.sni.  In  divine  providence  there  are  no  favoritisms.  God 
is  Saviour  for  all.  wbetlier  good  or  bad,  but  the  efficacy  of  Lis  loving 
provisions  depe:ids  on  the  attitude  cf  the  potential  beneficiaries.  Omnipo- 
tence is  described  as  power  adc-ciuate  to  all  the  demands  of  a  righteous 
and  rationally  conducted  universe.  Miracles  moy  bo  within  ths  realm 
cf  an  entirely  normal  activity  with  which  men  are  unfamiliar.  The 
modei-n  statement  of  God's  immanence  is  a  modifir^d  and  advanced  form 
of  the  doctrine  of  omnipresence  as  formerly  taught,  laying  special  stress 
on  personal  interpo.=iticn,  and  discountenancing  pantheistic  tendencies. 
"While  many  diff.culties  are  encountered  in  the  study  of  theology,  some 
help  in  their  solution  may  "be  derived  in  considering  that  God  is  tho 
Author  of  a  world  incalculably  more  extensive  than  was  imagined  before 
modern  science,  with  telescope,  microscope,  and  spectrum,  began  to  dis- 
play its  wonders,  but  in  the  very  nature  of  things  the  mysteries  cf  the 
Infinite  can  never  be  entirely  comprehended  by  the  finite  mind.  In  pre- 
senting the  'argument  for  the  existence  of  God  Professor  Clarke  reverses 
the  order  formerly  employed.  lie  thinks  that  the  evangelical  view  of 
the  divine  character,  discarding  the  term  "attributes,"  should  be  first 
stated,  and  then  the  mind  is  belter  prepared  to  consider  the  reasons  for 
believing.  In  addition  to  arguments  heretofore  offered,  more  or  less 
convincing,  evidence  is  cited  from  two  sources:  First,  the  universe  dis- 
plays a  rational  order,  and  must,"  therefore,  be  produced  by  a  rational 
creator;  secondly,  the  spiritual  nature  of  man,  the  highest  result  of  de- 
velopment in  process  for  an  unknown  period,  demands  a  real  object  to 
satisfy  its  longing,  and  there  must  ever  be  something  beyond  our  noblest 
aspirations.  Intellectual  difficultio?;  will  be  encountered  at  every  stage  of 
progress,  but  the  venture  that  evangelical  faith  "makes,  instead  of  being 
an  unmanly  thing,  or  an  escape  from  untenable  ground  into  a  fcol's  para- 
dise of  confidence,  is  a  consistent  declaration  of  the  supremacy  of  all  that 
has  a  right  to  be  supreme."