Montaigne ; The endless study ; and other miscellanies

MONTAIGNE;

t>t

THE EIDLESS STUDY,

AND

^iSJ-^y.

t/i.

/Co- (fLey

ROBMT TURNBULL.

NEW YORK:

PUBLISHED

BY M. W.

DODD,

BRICK CHURCH CHAPEL, CITY HALL SQUARE,

(opposite

THE CITY HALL,

.)

1850.

■''>

aoyv

MONTAIGNE

'' ^ -i-/ J

t^ .

THE EIDLESS ^STUDY,

AND

OTHER MISCELLANIES.

BY \,

ALEXANDER VINET.

TRANSLATED, WITH AX INTRODUCTION AND NOTES,

BY

ROBERT TURNBULL.

NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY M. W. DODD,

BRICK CHURCH CHAPEL, CITY HALL SQUARE,
(opposite the city hall.)

1850.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850,

By M. W. DODD,

In the Cleric's Office for the Southern District of New York.

STEREOTYPED BY THOMAS B. SMITH,
216 WILLIAM STREET, N. T.

CONTENTS.

-♦-•->-

PREFATORY NOTE

INTRODUCTION, BY THE TRANSLATOR . . ,

MONTAIGNE ON MORALITY

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE, BY THE TRANSLATOR

MAN CREATED FOR GOD

THE IDEA OF THE INFINITE ....

THE ENDLESS STUDY

THE CENTRE OF MORAL GRAVITATION .
NOTICE OF JOUFFROY, BY THE TRANSLATOR .
THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND THE RELIGIONS OF GOD
THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY ....
THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH

A CHARACTERISTIC OF THE GOSPEL

NATURAL FAITH

CHRISTIAN FAITH

PRACTICAL ATHEISM

GRACE AND LAW

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD .
THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY .
NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. . . .

THE CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED .
THE PURSUIT OF HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH

POWER OF THE FEEBLE

THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL ....
THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL

FAITH

PAGE

. 5

7

. 41

56

. 76

82

. 89

131
. 144

153
. 168

182
. 195

215
. 233

248
. 260

280
. 295

332
. 347

360
. 37-8

394
. 407

418

/

PREFATORY NOTE

Those acquainted with a volume of Vinet's Essays and Discourses
published by the translator a few years ago, but now out of print,
under the title of " Vital Christianity," will readily discover, in a
modified form, some portions of that work in the present, particularly
in the Introduction and in the latter part of the volume. Circum-
stances, over which the editor had no control, left him only this
method of preserving for the use of the public, any part of that work,
which was received with unusual cordiality, and served to introduce
Vinet to American readers. The present volume, we think, will be
found to possess a still higher interest and value, as it contains some
of the finest things that Vinet wrote, and on themes of the highest
moment. An apology, perhaps, is due from the translator for pre-
suming to mingle his thoughts and explanations with the productions
of such an author, in the form of Introduction, notes, and so forth.
But the candid reader will allow, that as every author writes under
pecuhar circumstances, and with a view to certain readers, his works
may not be so well adapted to another sphere and another class of
readers. This, we think, will be found peculiarly the case with the
works of Vinet, who wrote chiefly for the benefit of Swiss, French,
and German readers, and who mingles in all his productions allusions
and references to matters, literary, religious, and philosophical, with
which comparatively few American or English readers are sup-
posed to be familiar. Our aim has been, so to translate and so to
edit the following work, that it may be really useful to general read-
ers, and thus subserve the great end for which its devout and elo-
quent author lived and died.

INTRODUCTION.

Since the days of Ulric Zuingle and Theodore Beza, no theologian
or preacher in Switzerland has attained a higher celebrity than
Alexander Vinet ; not only on account of the superior excellence
of his character, and his vast attainments as a scholar, but also on
account of the philosophical depth of his writings and the striking
beauty and force of his diction. '• Perfectly at home in the regions
of pure thought," he was intimately conversant with French, Ger-
man, Italian, English, and Classic literature, and astonished his con-
temporaries as much by the acuteness of his speculations, as by the
finish and brilliancy of his style. His recent death caused a deep
sensation among all classes of the community in his native land, as
well as in France, England, and the United States. " He was
loved," says one of his contemporaries, " respected, and admired by
all. His adversaries, even, if he can be said to have had adversa-
ries, gave him the most honorable tribute of esteem and grief on the
occasion of his death. The Reformed Churches of Switzerland and
France feel that they have lost one of their foremost supports. Men
of learning, who also know the distinguished merit of Mr. Vinet,
unite with pious persons to deplore his departure from this world."

" This universal sorrow," he adds, " is owing to the fact that Mr.
Vinet joined to a high and comprehensive intellect a most benevolent
heart. He was not only a writer of the first order and a philosopher en-
dowed with the finest powers ; he was also a mild and amiable man,
seeking to promote good wherever it was in his power, taking plea-
sure in pointing out the merits rather than the defects of others. * *
Thus he became one of the most honored men of the age. This
union of genius and goodness is unhappily too rare. It often hap-
pens, even among Christians, that the gifts of the understanding are

Vm INTRODUCTION.

accompanied with a bitter or arbitrary spirit, and then our admiration
is mingled with a sort of fear and distrust. But when greatness of
soul is combined with the simplicity of a child (as in his case), it
constitutes one of the noblest works of God."

Our attention was first called to the writings of Vinet by Dr.
Merle d'Aubigne, the well-known author of the " History of the
Reformation." Having, in the course of conversation, asked him
concerning the published discourses of the most distinguished preach-
ers in France and Switzerland, he particularly recommended those
of Vinet, speaking of him as the Chalmers of Sivitzerland. He re-
ferred, also, to the work which he had recently published on the " Pro-
fession of Religious Convictions, and the Separation of the Church
from the State," as having produced a very great sensation in that
part of the world. He admitted that Vinet differed from Chalmers
in some respects, but intimated that he possessed a more profoundly
philosophical spirit. Every one famihar with the writings of both
men, will readily allow that they resemble each other in breadth
and energy of mind, originality of conception, and vigor of diction.
Chalmers, we think, has more of energy and passion, but less of
philosophical acumen and delicacy of perception ; more of oratorical
force and affluence of imagery, but less of real beauty, perspicacity,
and power of argument. His discourses resemble mountain torrents,
dashing in strength and beauty amid rocks and woods, carrying
everything before them, and gathering force as they leap and foam
from point to point, in their progress to the sea. Vinet's, on the
other hand, are like deep and beautiful rivers, passing with calm
but irresistible majesty through rich and varied scenery ; now gliding
around the base of some lofty mountain, then sweeping through
meadows and cornfields, anon reflecting in their placid bosom some
old castle, or vine-covered hill, taking villages and cities in their
course, and bearing the commerce and population of the neighboring
countries on their deepening and expanding tide. The diction of
Chalmers is strikingly energetic, but somewhat rugged and involved,
occasionally, too, rather unfinished and clumsy. Vinet's is pure and
classical, pellucid as one of his own mountain lakes, and yet re-
markably energetic and free in its graceful flow.

Another thing in which they differ has reference to the mode in
which they develop a subject. Chalmers grasps one or two great

INTRODUCTION. IX

conceptions, and expands them into a thousand beautiful and striking
forms. His great power hes in making luminous and impressive the
single point upon which he would fix his reader's attention, running
it, like a thread of gold, through the web of his varied and exhaust-
less imagery. Vinet penetrates into the heart of his subject, ana-
lyzes it with care, lays it open to inspection, advances from one
point to another, adds thought to thought, ilustration to illustration,
till it becomes clear and familiar to the mind of the reader. His in-
tellect is distinguished as much by its logical acumen as by its pow-
ers of illustration and ornament. He seldom repeats his thoughts in
the same discourse, and rarely fails in clearness of conception and
arrangement. Chalmers delights and persuades by the grandeur of
his ideas and the fervor of his language, but he adds little to the
stock of our information. He abounds in repetitions, and is not un-
frequently confused in his arrangement, and somewhat negligent in
his statements. Though eloquent and powerful, his discourses are
not remarkably instructive. But this is not the case with those of
Vinet. While they charm by their beauty, and convince by their
persuasive power, they abound in original views, and lead the mind
into fresh channels of reflection and feeling. While one is satisfied
with reading the productions of the great Scottish divine once or
twice, he recurs again and again to those of his Swiss compeer.
They abound in " the seeds of things," and possess a remarkable
power to quicken and expand the mind. On this account they ought
to be read, or rather studied, slowly and deliberately. Like the
works of John Howe, which Robert Hall was accustomed to read so
frequently, they will repay m.any perusals.

Both of these distinguished men were truly evangelical in their
theological views ; they developed with equal power the peculiar
doctrines of the Gospel, and in their respective spheres did much to
promote evangelical religion among the higher and more cultivated
circles of society. Both laid their great literary attainments under
contribution to defend and illustrate the religion of the Cross, and
devoted much time and attention to those great moral and pohtico-
ecclesiastical questions which agitate the whole Christian world.
On most of these questions the views of Vinet were more thorough
and consistent, and aimed at a complete separation of the Church
from the State ; a result, however, to which Chalmers came in prac-

1*

X INTRODUCTION.

tice, and which, had he lived, he would unquestionably have reached
even in theory. Both possessed great simplicity and earnestness
of character. Alike free from cant and pretension, and appa-
rently unconscious of their greatness, they were distinguished by
a rare depth and beauty of character. They were men of genius
and men of God. As a writer, Vinet led the movement in France
and Switzerland against formalism and scepticism in the Church,
and particularly against the union of Church and State. Chalmers
did the same, at least by means of action, in Scotland and England.
Both were professors in the colleges of their native lands ; both se-
ceded from the national church, but continued, by the common con-
sent of the community, to occupy important places as teachers of
thecilogy. They wrote largely and successfully on the subject of
moral science, in its connections with Christianity, and were called,
especially by their published discourses, to address men of high sta-
tion and cultivated minds.

As a preacher, Vinet was more calm in manner, more compre-
hensive in thought, more subtle in analysis, more felicitous in diction
than his Scottish compeer ; but he never reached his impassioned
fervor and practical power. He was better acquainted with the
French and German philosophy, which he hud studied carefully in
the original sources. He had read more extensively and thought
more deeply upon all the fundamental problems which agitate the
thinkers of continental Europe, and he possessed naturally a keener
and more discriminating intellect ; but he could lay no claim to the
fervid enthusiasm, the practical wisdom, the business tact, the all-
embracing energy of that prince of preachers. Vinet regards every
subject in its fundamental relations. He thinks patiently and pro
foundly. With a vigorous and delicate imagination and great power
of expression, he is serene, self-possessed, and philosophical. His
words are carefully weighed ; and to those who can fully enter into
his spirit they possess a clearness and precision, combined with a
grandeur and beauty, at once surprising and delightful. But their
very precision, more philosophical than popular, in connection with
their unusual depth and fulness of import, somewhat bewilder com-
mon minds, those, especially, not versed in philosophical inquiries,
and thus invest them with an air of difficulty and obscurity. These
peculiarities are seen to some extent in a few of his discourses, but

INTRODUCTION. xi

it is in his dissertation on religions convictions, and especially in his
critical and philosophical essays, that they appear in their perfection.
One must be conversant with these to form a just idea of the depth
and grandeur of his conceptions, the force and delicacy of his lan-
guage. Chalmers, on the other hand, with all his majesty and force
is plain and practical, and even somewhat loose and declamatory.
He is seldom if ever obscure, except from defective reasoning or in-
adequate expression. The stream of his eloquence rushes bright
and strong under the eye of all. Its course is easily marked as it
sparkles and foams under the light of heaven. The eloquence of
Vinet is not only different in kind and aspect, but seems to take a
different course. Deep and strong, it only seems obscure — reflect-
ing a strange spiritual radiance, borrowed from afar, it glides in
many winding turns, as if among Alpine sohtudes ; now mirroring
the glacier peaks in its calm depths, now passing under the shadow
of some frowning precipice, and anon gathering itself into one of
those dark-blue lakes which lie encircled amid the everlasting hills.
Chalmers goes forth in the daylight of this every-day world, " re-
joicing as a strong man to run a race." Vinet is seen gazing upon
the stars in the depths of the far heavens. The one adores Jehovah
amid the kindling glories of the sunrise, the other in the hallowed
shadows of the night. The latter is a philosopher, profound and rev-
erent, the other an orator, energetic and free. Chalmers sways the
minds of the people, and works a mighty reformation in the Church
of God, Vinet illumines the souls of thinkers, aud mingles, like the
star of morning, with the light of heaven. Both died about the same
time, when they seemed to be needed the most by their respective
countries, and the Church of Christ ; and now they worship to-
gether in the temple not made with hands, while " the long radiance"
of their genius and piety lingers behind them, to stimulate and cheer
their fellow-pilgrims on earth.

It is but justice to say that Chalmers as a preacher was more
popular than Vinet, and that his writings thus far have secured a
wider circulation. Vinet, however, must become popular, if not with
the mass, yet with the thoughtful and cultivated wherever he is
known. His reputation in Switzerland and France is very high,
even among mere literary men ; he is also well known and highly
esteemed in Germany, where his writings have been translated and

Xll INTRODUCTION.

read with much interest. His great work on the " Manifestation," or
" Profession of Religious Convictions," has been translated into Ger-
man and English, in the one case by Dr. Volkmann, in the other by
Charles Theodore Jones, and has attracted much attention, particu-
larly in Germany, where the way was prepared for its reception by
the two works of Dr. R-ettig,* and Pastor WoliF,f on the same sub-
ject. It has exerted a great and obvious influence on the mind of
Count Gasparin, whose writings on the subject of religious liberty
are destined, we think, to produce the most salutary results. Indeed,
this work of Vinet is greatly admired on the continent of Europe,
except perhaps by some of the friends of the alliance of Church and
State. The great number of reviews and replies it has called out,
is a striking proof of its value. We are apprehensive, however, that
the English version gives but an inadequate conception of its force
and eloquence. Faithful and laborious it undoubtedly is, but it does
not reach the strength and beauty of the original.

" There are in Vinet's mind and writings," says an accomplished
American scholar, " many things to remind a reader of John Foster.
There is the same searching analysis and profound thought, united
to a flowing eloquence to which, generally, Foster can lay no claim. "J
The remark is just, though Foster is greatly inferior to Vinet in ac-
quired knowledge, and especially in an intimate familiarity with
general literature and speculative philosophy. Generally speaking,
also, Vinet is more genial and hopeful, and takes a wider and more
discursive range of thought. It is questionable, however, whether he
quite equals the English essayist in the complete originality of his
conceptions, and the racy vigor of his language. Vinet has borrowed
more from Fenelon, Pascal, and the Port Royalists, than Foster has
from any writer whatever. Still, in philosophical depth, as well as
in delicacy, precision, and beauty of style, the palm must be given
to Vinet. The thoughts of Foster, to borrow a figure of Robert
Hall's, are presented to us in the shape of rich and beautiful
masses of bullion ; Vinet's are wrought into finished and elegant
forms.

It is evident, however, from a perusal of Vinet's writings, as

* Die Freie Protestantischen Kirche ; Giessen, 1832.

t Zukunft der Protestantischen Kirche in Deutschland ; 1838.

t Dr. William R. Williams.

INTRODUCTION. XUl

Sainte Beuve, a distinguished contemporary critic suggests, that he
sympathized more fully with Pascal than with any other writer. In-
ferior in originahty and force to that prodigy of genius, who may be
said to have invented geometry for himself, and at the same time cre-
ated a rich and vigorous style of writing, which has left its marked im-
press upon the literature of France, Vinet has the same power of ab-
stract thinking, the same distrust of philosophic theories, the same
sense of "the vanity and grandeur of man," and the same majestic
and beautiful style. Free from the superstitions and doubts of Pascal,
he worships with him in the same solemn temple, trusts in the same
Redeemer, and longs for the same perfection. Their " thoughts" on
religion wonderfully harmonize ; and it is really beautiful to see how,
in this high union, Catholic and Protestant are blended. Indeed, Vi-
net is Pascal in a softened light, with a stronger faith, and a deeper
peace.

The following are the principal events in the life of our author, so
far as we have been able to ascertain them.

Alexander Vinet was born 17th June, 1797, in Lausanne, capital
of the Canton Vaud, Switzerland, certainly one of the most beautiful
cities in the world, lying as it does upon the high and sloping bank
of Lake Leman, or the Lake of Geneva, adorned with squares and
gardens, fine edifices and delightful promenades ; in sight, also, of
the high Alps with their snow-clad peaks, and in the neighborhood
of Vevay, Chillon, Villeneuve, and other places of classic and roman-
tic interest ; at one time the residence of Zuingle and Beza, and the
chosen dwelling-place of Gibbon, the historian of Rome. An Acad-
emy of considerable celebrity has existed here since 1536,* which, in
1806, was elevated into an Academic Institute (what in this country
would perhaps be called a University), with fourteen professors and
a rector. It was also re-organized in 1838, and separated, if we
mistake not, from all immediate connection with the national church.
From its origin Lausanne has been distinguished for its high literary
culture, its refined and agreeable society. It is the residence of
many foreigners.

Destined to the ministry by his father, who regarded the clerical
profession as the most desirable and honorable of all, Vinet was

* Founded by the celebrated reformer, Viret, one of the ablest and most eloquent
preachers of the Swiss Reformation.

XIV INTRODUCTION.

placed at the Academy of his native city, and pursued the ordinary
course of studies, occupied, however, more with hterature than the-
ology. Fortunately his mind was attracted, at an early period, to the
study of moral science, for which he possessed a decided genius, and
which exerted a very favorable influence, not only upon his theolo-
gical inquiries, but upon his religious character.

At the age of twenty, two years before the legal termination of
his studies, he accepted a place as professor of the French language
and literature, in the Establishment of Public Instruction or Univer-
sity, at Bale (German, Basle), capital of the canton of that name, a
fine old city on the banks of the Rhine, distinguished for its Cathe-
dral and University, once the residence of Oecolampadius, the friend
of Zuinglius, and one of the most eloquent preachers of the Refor-
mation, and also the burial-place of the celebrated Erasmus. Such
an appointment is an incontestable evidence of the superiority of
Vinet's talents, and the high reputation for scholarship he had ac-
quired even at that early period of his life. He made a visit to Lau-
sanne in 1819, in order to submit to the requisite examinations and
receive ordination as a minister of the gospel. He returned to Bale,
and continued there till 1837, as professor of the French language
and literature. It was during his residence in this place that he
published the most of his earlier writings, and established his repu-
tation as a preacher. In 1830 he published two discourses, the one
on the Intolerance of the GospeZ, the other on the Tolerance of the
Gospel, which attracted great attention. They were prefaced in the
following style, furnishing a beautiful specimen of the simplicity and
modesty of his character. " Persons advanced in Christian knowl-
edge will find, we fear, little nutriment in these discourses. Nor is
it to them we have felt ourselves called to speak ; it would better
become us to hear them. We have forbidden our words to transcend
the limits of our personal emotions ; an artificial heat would not be
salutary. Nevertheless we hope that to many persons we have spo-
ken a word in season ; and we cast it into the world, commending
it to the Divine blessing, which can make some fruits of holiness
and peace to spring from it for the edification of the Christian
church."

In this brief preface a peculiarity of all our author's productions,
and especially of his discourses, reveals itself. They are " born, not

INTRODUCTION. XV

made," originated, not manufactured. His soul was never cast into
any artificial mould. It has great clearness, elasticity, and strength.
He is therefore entirely free from hackneyed phrases, and stereo-
typed modes of thought. His discourses are drawn fresh from his
own profound spirit. While perusing them, you feel as if you were
listening, not to the mere preacher, but to the deep thinker and the
man of God. He never transcends the limits of his own personal
experience ; but that being the experience at once of a great and a
good man, it possesses a peculiar warmth and beauty. " One must
breathe the spirit," says Pindar, " before he can speak." — '• Out of the
abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," is the testimony of
Jesus Christ. Our author, we think, understands this, and hence
approaches as near as possible to the model which John Foster has
in his mind when he insists so strongly on the necessity, in evan-
gelical writings, of naturalness and entire freedom from cant. In-
deed Vinet distinctly acknowledges the great importance of this qual-
ity, and urges the same views as those of Foster's Essay on the
Aversion of Men of Taste to Evangelical Religion. In the Intro-
duction to a Volume of his Discourses, he says : — "Feeble, I address
myself to the feeble. I give to them the milk which has nourished
myself. When some of us become stronger than the rest, we will
together demand the bread of the strong. But I have thought that
those who are at the commencement of their course need some one
who, placing himself in their point of view, should speak to thera
less as a preacher than as a man who precedes them by scarcely a
single step, and who is anxious to turn to their account the little ad-
vance he has made upon them.

" It is perhaps desirable that every one, according to the measure
of knowledge which has been given him, should labor for the evan-
gelization of the world. In the mumber of those whom I may be
permitted to call candidates of the truth, there are perhaps some
souls that are particularly attracted by the kind of preaching I have
employed, and employed without choice ; for I could not choose it.
I say perhaps, and nothing more ; but what I affirm with more con-
fidence is, that it is important that each one should show himself
such as he is, and not affect gifts he has not received.

" I believe I am not mistaken in saying that among those who
speak or write on divine things there is an exaggerated craving for

XVI INTRODUCTION.

uniformity. I know indeed, that community of convictions and hopes,
the habit of deriving instruction from the same sources, the intimate
nature of the relations that subsist in Christian society, must have
produced, as their result, a unity of thoughts, of intellectual habits,
and even, to a certain extent, of expression ; but while we ought to
admire this unity when it is produced, we ought to make no effort to
produce it. The generous freedom of Christianity is repugnant to
that timid deference to a conventional language and a vain ortho-
doxy of tone and style ; nor does sincerity permit us to adopt, as an
expression of our individuality, a common type, the imprint of which
is always, in some degree, foreign to us ; the interest of our religious
development demands that we should not conceal from ourselves our
real condition ; and nothing could be more fitted to conceal it from
ourselves than the involuntary habit of disguising it to others. In
fine, the beauty of the evangelical work, and even unity itself, de-
mand that each nature should manifest itself with its own charac-
teristics. Confidence is felt in unity, when it produces itself under
an aspect of variety ; community of principle is rendered more stri-
king by diversity of forms ; while uniformity being necessarily arti-
ficial, is always more or less suspected, and involuntarily suggests
the idea of constraint or dissimulation."

It was probably in Bale that Vinet formed those decidedly spiritual
views of religion, so clearly developed in all his discourses and other
writings. In this place, an evangelical influence in greater or less de-
gree, has existed ever since the time of the Reformation. The labors
of Oecolampadius, whom the good people of the city were accus-
tomed to call their bishop, the occasional presence and preaching of
the great Swiss reformer, Zuinglius, the decided piety and activity
of several of their most distinguished pastors and preachers in sub-
sequent times, and more recently the prevalence of a noble mission-
ary spirit, have conspired to impress an evangelical character upon
the place. It has of course suffered, like all other cities in Switzer-
land and Germany, from the prevalence of rationalism, formalism,
and infidelity ; still the fire of divine love has continued to burn upon
its altars with a pure, and we hope, brightening flame.

It was in Bale also that Vinet composed his " Memoir in favor of
Liberty of Worship," which obtained the prize offered by the Society
of Christian Morals in Paris. This production, which displays the

INTRODUCTION. XVll

vigor and enthusiasm of liis mind, as well as his intense aversion to
all intolerance and injustice, had a great circulation in France, among
intelligent men. M. Guizot, chairman of the Committee of Award,
rendered a public tribute to the piety and talent of the author.

In 1832, he gave to the public the first volume of his Discourses
on Religious Subjects. His " Nouveaux Discours" appeared at a
subsequent period. As they were written under particular circum-
stances and addressed to a particular class of men, they possess a
character of their own, differing from anything in the whole range
of pulpit literature. " I would not," says Fehce, " offer these Dis-
courses as models to be followed by all preachers ; Mr. Vinet him-
self does not. I say only that they deserve to be carefully studied
by all enlightened men.

" In general, great pulpit orators try to be popular ; and this is
right. Christianity is not a science addressing itself only to some
choice minds ; it is a religion revealed for all, necessary for all, and
which seems to have been designed for the small even more than the
great. ' To the poor the Gospel is preached,^ said Jesus Christ. A
preacher then conforms to the spirit of the Gospel, when he adapts
himself to the capacity of the hearers ; and the more accessible he
is to the comprehension of the humble, the better he attains his end.
But there is no rule without exceptions, and in some circumstances,
the Christian orator is called to fathom the obscurest depths of phi-
losophy. It depends especially upon the character of the hearers.
It depends, also, upon the obstacles which the preacher must com-
bat, and tlie effects he aims to produce.

" On these principles we must judge the Religious Discourses of
Mr. Vinet. They are, properly speaking, doctrinal, moral, and phi-
losophical dissertations. He delivered them at Bale, before a select
audience composed specially of professors and students. He had
before him men accustomed to profound thought, and who felt doubts
upon some points of the Christian revelation. His duty was to sat-
isfy these internal wants. He could, without fear of not being un-
derstood, lift himself to the sublime regions of speculative thought,
and encounter objections which are happily unknown to the mass of
Christians.

" Considered in this point of view, nothing would seem more ad-
mirable than the Discourses of Mr. Vinet. What copiousness and

XVlll INTRODUCTION.

what originality of thought ! what novelty in the illustrations of
doctrine and morals ! what logic, at once sound and vigorous ! what
warmth and pungency in the style ! To read merely the title of
these meditations you would believe, often, that the speaker only dis-
cussed some common-place ; but if you go farther, you see with
surprise that upon the tritest subjects he has found things which no
other had discovered before him. He is truly an orator sui generis ;
he imitates no one, and I doubt if any one should imitate him.

" This volume of Discourses had in France many readers. It did
good particularly to those reflecting men who, without having distinct
religious opinions, profess to believe something, and are known for
their irreproachable conduct in the eyes of the vi^orld. Mr. Vinet,
with his philosophical views and his amiable qualities, exactly met
their wishes ; and more than one literary man, once a sceptic, was
led by him to the cross of God the Saviour."

In these Discourses, as in all Vinet's writings, we discover a re-
markable combination of dissimilar qualities. But this is accounted
for by a reference to the peculiar genius and circumstances of the
author. A native of Switzerland, which is more allied, in its spirit
and character, to Germany than to France, and intimately familiar
with classic as well as English and German literature, Vinet unites
the greatest subtlety and depth with all the grace and vivacity which
distinguish the genius of France. It is surprising what elasticity
and strength, what grace and grandeur, the French language as-
sumes under his plastic hand.* So much is this the case, that it
has been affirmed that no one has used the French tongue with more
force and elegance since the days of Pascal. Contemplative, en-
thusiastic, and poetical, his language glows with as much grandeur
and picturesque beauty as the scenery of his native land.

The citizens of the Canton Vaud several times requested Vinet to
return to his native city. They offered him any place that he might
wish. They told him that Bale was not his home, and that he ought
to devote his talents to his own country, and other such things. For
a lonff time he resisted their solicitations. He was attached to B^le
by ties of gratitude and habit, and had many friends there ; he loved
" the calm, modest, patriarchal life" he had spent there for many

* The French language is spoken in the Cantons of Bftsle, Neufchatel, Geneva,
and Vaud. Most of the people understand German, but they generally use French.

INTRODUCTION. XIX

years. But the solicitations of the Vaudese finally prevailed, and in
1837 he became professor of practical theology in Lausanne. Stu-
dents flocked from France and Switzerland to hear his instructive
and eloquent lectures, and were inspired with the highest love and
enthusiasm for their teacher. By his side were other teachers of
merit, " but the impulse, the incitement to study, came from Vinet."
He occupied this station for several years, but he found it neces-
sary at last to declare his convictions on the impropriety of the union
of the Church with the State. His book upon this subject produced
quite an excitement, and engaged strongly the attention of thinking
men both in Switzerland and France. In consequence of his views
upon this subject he felt great scruples of conscience about keeping
his place. His friends, however, urged him for their sakes to retain
it. At this juncture a revolution broke out in the Canton. Evan-
gelical ministers were persecuted, and compelled to leave their place
in the established church. Vinet resigned his office as professor of
theology, and was appointed professor of French literature. He was
afterwards deposed by an infidel, truth-hating government, who in
the abused name of liberty were guilty of shameful excesses. In
company, therefore, with a noble band of self-denying ministers and
members of the established church, who could not bear the imposi-
tions of a despotic mob, who had assumed the reins of government,
he went forth to found a free church amid the hills and vales of the
Canton Vaud. Vinet was the heart and soul of this movement,
and had the satisfaction before his death of seeing a church formed
in which its ministers and members would be free to worship God
according to the dictates of their consciences, yielding allegiance to
none but Jesus Christ. Many tears were shed by the old pastors
on leaving their homes and portions of their flocks, and although
some faltered and failed, a noble host went out with their weeping
families and friends, not knowing whither they went. The conduct
of the government, which happens to be radical and infidel, consist-
ing chiefly of associationists, rationalists, and demagogues, has been
most atrocious. In the name of liberty, they have not hesitated to
persecute these noble spirits ; they went so far even as to threaten
Vinet with stoning and imprisonment ! But " wisdom is justified of
all her children," and the persecuted ministers and members of the
Free Churcli, with a calm decision and heroic self-sacrifice worthy

XX INTRODUCTION.

of the martyrs, preferred to obey God rather than man, and bade de-
fiance to the miserable government of the mob, who alone claimed
to be free. Their record is on high, and their memory will be fra-
grant when the names of their persecutors are rotten in the dust.
All Switzerland and the continent of Europe will yet own their
power ; generations yet unborn will rise up and call them blessed.
Man must be free. The Church of God shall be free. The decree
has gone forth from the court of heaven, and no power on earth can
prevent its fulfilment. " The dominion and the greatness of the do-
minion under the whole heaven, shall be given to the saints of the
Most High God."

As a preacher, Vinet was rather solemn and impressive than stri-
king and vehement. His personal appearance was not peculiarly
imposing, though dignified and agreeable. It possessed, however, a
charm to those who knew him intimately, and well corresponded to
his calm and lofty genius. He was rather tall, somewhat bony and
muscular, but not stout, with a slight stoop in his gait, as if he were
meditating some serious or agreeable subject. His complexion was
tawny as an Indian's, his mouth firm and benevolent in its expres-
sion, eyes dark and lustrous, forehead rather broad than high, though
by no means deficient in height, and surmounted by dark, clustering
hair. The whole aspect of the countenance was honest, benevolent,
and intellectual. His voice was low, his manner calm and delib-
erate. The flush upon his face and the gleaming of his eye, alone
revealed the majestic energy of the indwelling spirit, uttering its
profound and oracular thoughts.*

* " The printed sermons of Mr. Vinet do not give a complete idea of his ordinary
manner of preaching. He had a more popular method for small assemblies, for
familiar meetings. There, he was no longer the lofty and abstruse philosopher ; he
was the humble Christian, simple in his expositions, always intelligible in his terms,
and who, like a brother or a friend, takes his hearers by the hand to lead them to
Christ. Mr. Vinet, in these ordinary circumstances, did not write his sermons ; he
was accustomed to preach with notes written on a small piece of paper. His voice
had something mild and penetrating. He made few gestures, kept a calm attitude,
and did not aim at bursts of eloquence. He was sometimes animated, but with
moderation. He did not run after the pathetic. He believed, with reason, that
vehemence carried to excess diminishes the authority of the sacred orator. Moder-
ation also indicates strength ; and the preacher who preserves always the control
over himself will produce, in the end, deeper impressions than the impetuous de-
claimer. It is perhaps well that there are some revival preachers who excite violent
emotions. But they are not the best models of Christian eloquence, though they

INTRODUCTION. XXI

In his intercourse with his family and friends, he was kind and
gentle ; and in all his deportment showed himself at once a great
and a good man. He was distinguished as much for simplicity as
dignity of character, for profound humility as for exalted worth.
Apparently as unconscious of his greatness as a star is of its light,
he shed upon all around him a benignant radiance. In a word, he
walked with God. This controlled his character, this shaped his
manners. Steeped in holy love, he could not be otherwise than se-
rene and gentle.

While resident at Bale and Lausanne, Vinet made frequent con-
tributions of a critical and philosophical kind, to the Sevieur, and
other periodicals. Several of his works were crowned (coiironne)
as the expression is, by the French Society of Christian Morals.
He also published a volume of philosophical criticisms, in part derived
from those he had contributed to the" Semeur, in which he discusses
with uncommon depth and subtlety, but in language of exquisite
clearness and force, some of the highest problems in philosophy and
morals, and dissects the maxims and theories of such men as Mon-
taigne, Voltaire, Rochefoucauld, Jouffroy, Cousin, Quinet, and Lam-
artine.* His tine genius for philosophical speculation, in connection
with his strong common sense, and his unwavering faith in the Gospel,
are here strikingly developed. Perfectly at home in the region of pure

obtain, perhaps, more applause than others. Mr. Vinet never was ambitions of this
ephemeral popularity."

* "M. Vinet," says the Semeur, ''has exercised for sixteen years his criticism, at
once learned and brilliant, on all the productions of our great writers. His articles
united would make an admirable course of contemporary literature in a Christian
point of view. To be more sure of not mistaking the nature of the moral errors
and false hopes to which he wished to oppose the divine remedy, M. Vinet studied
them in the works of the most illustrious representatives of modern thought. Just
before his death, he had proposed to continue his critical series by a review of La-
martine's History of the Girondins." In 1846, he published a pamphlet of seventy-
one pages, entitled ' Du Socialisme considere dans son Principe.' " It is a funda-
mental and very able discussion of a question which is now deeply agitating society
in Switzerland and in other parts of Europe. Its most melancholy developments
have perhaps been witnessed in the Canton of Vaud. Its abettors, ignorant of
Christianity or utterly hostile to it, unacquainted with the solemn lessons of history,
or despising them, appeal to man's social nature, to a species of levelling fraterniza-
tion, ' to the identification of man and society,' as a sovereign remedy for the ills
which afflict the race." — Br. Edicards.

Since his death, his " Evangelical Studies" and his " Studies on Pascal" have
been published.

XXll INTRODUCTION.

abstractions, he yet possesses the power of clear and eloquent ex-
pression, " giving to airy nothings a local habitation and a name."
With eagle glance, he detects the subtlest fallacies of his opponents,
and lays down, in brief and expressive phrase, those great and fun-
damental principles of belief, without which all our speculations are
only visions of cloudland. Vinet was neither a spiritualist nor a
sensationalist. He belonged neither to the school of Locke nor of
Kant, of Hegel nor of Cousin. He did not reject altogether the
German " spiritual philosophy," but he was very far from accepting
it. It was too vague, too dogmatic, too extravagant for his clear,
well-balanced intellect. Moreover, he distinguished clearly between
philosophy and religion — between the speculations of the one and the
revelations of the other. While conceding all that was due to sci-
ence, he bowed with reverence before the word of God. He brought
all the spoils of reason to the Cross, and kneeling there as an humble
suppliant, looked up into the face of the dying Saviour, and ex-
claimed, " Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom."
His heart understood that work of love, and his intellect grew still
and reverent under its influence. In all his works, this element of
his character appears predominant. It is the one thing which gave
unity to his life and labors. In a word, he was a sincere and humble
Christian. His mighty soul was laid, all throbbing with thought and
feeling, on the warm bosom of the Son of God. Renouncing " his
own righteousness,'' relying upon Christ alone, and consecrating his
attainments on the altar of Christian love, he rejoiced in the abound-
ing grace of God, and lay down to die in the calm and blessed hope
of a glorious immortality. His decease took place somewhat sud-
denly, on the 4th of May, 1847, before he was quite fifty years of
age, at Clarens, near Lausanne, just on the margin of Lake Leman,
whither he had been sent by his physicians. It was the death of
a Christian, calm and beautiful as the last rays of sunset upon the
mountains of his native land.

Vinet's last lecture was on these words of our Saviour : " I have
glorified thee on the earth ; I have finished the work thou gavest
me to do. And now. Father, glorify thou me with thine own
self." The seriousness, the elevation, the humility with which he
expounded these words, the fervor with which at the close he prayed
to God that they might be fulfilled in himself and in his hearers,

INTRODUCTION. XXIU

seemed almost like a presentiment that he was near the end of his
course, and that God was about to remove him from the evil to
come. His funeral took place on Thursday, May sixth ; his pupils
claiming the honor of being the bearers, sang at his tomb " a hymn
of sorrow and of hope." The Rev. William Monod then made a
short address ; a pupil ' uttered a last adieu to the mortal dust, and
said to the glorified spirit. Thanks, we shall meet again !'

Most of the Essays and Miscellanies we have translated, are ad-
dressed particularly to that large class of cultivated minds who have
some prepossessions in favor of Christianity, but who, from the in-
fluence of latent scepticism, do not yield their hearts to its direct and
all-controlling influence. Tliis circumstance, as already suggested,
stamps upon them a peculiar character. It has rendered them at
once profound and practical. But it has given rise to some incon-
venience in the use of words, as the author himself acknowledges.
For example, the words reason, nature, life, are occasionally used in
their strict and philosophical sense, then again in their more loose
and general import. At one time, reason is recommended and ex-
alted as the gift of God, and the criterion of truth ; at another, it is
contemned and rejected as an impostor and a cheat. In the one
case, he evidently refers to reason legitimate and true, occupying its
own sphere, and performing its proper work ; in the other, to reason
perverted and false, transcending the limits which God has assigned
it, assuming extravagant pretensions, and trampling upon the plain-
est principles of science and revelation. Indeed, as the author sug-
gests, the word in these instances is used in two different senses.
" So far as the words nature and reason designate that foundation of
moral and intellectual truth which we carry within us, those univer-
sal and immutable principles to which all systems appeal, which are
admitted in the most opposite theories, and on the common ground
of which opponents the most decided are compelled to re-unite, at
least for a moment, nature and reason merit the homage I have ren-
dered them ; for if, in my discussions, I had not set out from this
given point, whence could I set out ? But so far as reason and na-
ture, instead of receiving the light of God, instead of appealing to it,
and using its rays to illuminate their pathway, pretend to create that
light, or to speak more exactly, so far as it is pretended, in the name

XXIV INTRODUCTION.

of nature and reason, which disavow such an undertaking", to com-
municate to man an illumination, and a power, which must come
from on high, I set myself against that abuse. And if, in con-
forming to a usage more oratorical than philosophical, I designate
that abuse by the name of those powers which give occasion to it,
if I call nature and reason those pretensions which are raised in the
name of nature and reason, I confide in the attention and good faith
of my readers, without concealing what the severity of philosophical
language might demand from me." With this explanation, every in-
telligent reader will make the distinctions, clearly indicated by the
spirit and scope of the author's reasoning.

" Philosophers and men of the world," says Vinet, in the introduc-
tion to the first volume of his Discourses, " invite us, in some sense,
to meet them ; having lingered long in the precincts of philosophy,
they approach towards the sanctuary. The secret of life, its final
word, is demanded from all quarters ; and should we, who know that
final word, be avaricious of it ; should we refuse to speak it, because
we must speak it to philosophers in a language less familiar to us
than to them ? That word is of all languages ; it is susceptible of
all forms ; it has a thousand diflferent expressions ; for it is found at
the termination of all questions, at the close of all discussions, at
the summit of all ideas. Long or short, direct or indirect, every road
is true that conducts to the foot of the cross."

The author, however, modestly disclaims all pretension of " preach-
ing Christ in the Areopagus, or entering the lists with the doctors,"
but adds, that he had involuntarily turned towards " that numerous
class of cultivated men who, educated in the bosom of Christendom,
and imbued, if the expression may be allowed, with Christian pro-
possessions, feebly struggle either against their own heart, frightened
by the solemn aspect of Christianity, or against that too general im-
pression that Christianity, so necessary, so beautiful, so consoling,
cannot be justified in the eyes of reason."

As to the first difficulty, he proceeds to say, " The Christian
preacher will not consider it his duty to remove it, by abstracting
anything from the serious character of the Gospel. On the contrary,
he is gratified to find this prepossession established ; it is one error
less to eradicate. The fear which the gospel has produced is the
commencement of adhesion. It is this very seriousness which the

INTRODUCTION. XXV

minister of the Gospel ought to cultivate to maturity. As to the
second difficulty, which turns," says he, " on the old opposition be-
tween faith and reason, he makes the following admirable remarks.

" He who speaks of revealed religion, speaks of a system which
reason cannot discover, because it is necessary that God himself
should communicate it to us by supernatural means. The Christian,
then, rejects reason, so far as it professes to produce or create the
truth. He does, in his sphere, what the true philosopher does in
his ; for the latter admits, by virtue of an internal revelation, facts
for the discovery of which reason is of no use. The philosopher
has not to demonstrate, a 'priori, the facts of internal revelation, a
revelation without antecedents, and anterior to all acquisitions.
The theologian, on his part, recognizes, in revealed facts, an acqui-
sition superior to all acquisitions ; he no longer proves these facts,
for to prove them would be to create them. By acting thus he does
not deny reason ; on the contrary, he makes use of it. And this is
the place to observe, that reason, that is to say, the nature of things,
in whatever point of view we place ourselves, will always be to us
the criterion of truth and the basis of faith. The truth without us
must always be measured and compared with the truth within us ;
with that intellectual conscience, which, as well as the moral con-
science, is invested with sovereignty, gives judgments, knows remorse ;
with those irresistible axioms which we carry within us, which form
a part of our nature, and are the support and groundwork of all our
thoughts ; in a word with reason. In this sense, every doctrine of
revelation is held to be reasonable ; which, however, is not to say
that every doctrine is held to be accessible to reason ; nothing hin-
ders it from receiving that which surpasses it. Moreover, beyond
this inviolable limit, the theologian finds space and employment for
his reason ; he even applies it, in two different ways, to the facts of
the supernatural revelation he announces. First of all, he develops
the proofs of the authenticity of such a revelation ; then he applies
himself to prove its necessity as well as its harmony with the immu-
table nature of the human heart — in a word, the perfect reasonable-
ness of a system which reason has not discovered. Nay, the farther
this system is removed in its principles from the discoveries of human
reason, the more does its coincidence with it become striking and
admirable. Thus, in Cbristian preaching, reason abdicates on one

XXVI INTRODUCTION.

point, but only on one ; it is satisfied not to comprehend, not to be
able to construct, a priori, the principal facts of Christianity, and
transfers them to the heart, which embraces them, elaborates and
vivifies them ; but it finds, in a neighboring sphere, the rich indemni-
ties we have just indicated. By itself alone it cannot form the
Christian, but it prepares him ; it conducts from the natural to the
supernatural, those whom the powerful energy of the Holy Spirit
has not transported, without intermediate steps, into the high sphere
of the faith of the heart. Thus the essential opposition which is
proclaimed between reason and faith has no real existence ; they are
two powers reigning in two distinct spheres. Those, therefore,
who would make Christianity faith alone, and those who claim that
it should be reason alone, are equally mistaken ; it is both ; it takes
possession at once of thought and feeling ; it withdraws from exam-
ination, and yields itself to it by turns ; it has its darkness and its
light. The theologian is bound to show himself well informed ; he
ought to conciliate to the gospel the respect of reason itself ; but he
ought by no means to place the gospel on the same level with
reason ; nay, he ought carefully to guard against this.

" Between the two extremes wo have exhibited, the rationalist
preachers appear to seek a middle ground ; but he would be very
simple who did not perceive that one of these extremes attracts them
powerfully, and claims them wholly. How ungrateful, too, their
task ! To reduce everything to the principles of nature is evidently
their pretension ; to make reason usurp the place of faith, to extir-
pate from religion, by little and little, everything serious, is the ob-
vious aim of their labors. But when they have succeeded, they will
find themselves, like ordinary philosophers, face to face with mystery.
What have they gained ? Absolutely nothing ; except to have taken
a longer and more expensive route. I suspect unbelieving logicians
find the rationalists indifl^erent philosophers.

" Is it perhaps that in rationalizing the gospel, they have found
a system more perfect than those which philosophy can produce ?
As to certainty, their system possesses nothing more than any other ;
as to intrinsic value, they might find one as good and plausible,
without making use of the gospel. That meagre Christianity which
they put in the place of the true, has nothing peculiar or individual,
nothing which elevates it above the theories of mere reason. They

INTRODUCTION. XXvii

imagine that by retrencliing the facts of a transcendental sphere, that
is to say, supernatural facts, they are merely drawing the blade from
its scabbard ; let them say rather, they have cast away the blade, and
that the hilt only remains in their hands. Stripped of the great foct
of expiation, and all that cluster of ideas connected with it, what, I
ask, is Christianity ? For ordinary minds, an ordinary morality ; for
others, an abyss of inconsistencies.*

" I am persuaded that true philosophers will find that evangelical
preachers have taken a position more solid and philosophical. And
we attach value to this suffrage ; for if philosophy as a science does
not inspire us with much confidence, so far as it relates to the solu-
tion of the great problem of life, it is not so with philosophy as a
method, or with the philosophical spirit. The art of abstracting, of
generalizing, of classifying principles, will never be disdained by en-
lightened Christian preachers ; besides, there is a Christian philoso-
phy. Retained within certain limits, it has its use in preaching, and
even in life.

" If it is a means, it ought to be employed. The times are omi-
nous. Society is evidently in a state of crisis. Never was the im-
potence of human wisdom, to consolidate the repose of nations and
the welfare of humanity, more completely proved. Philosophy, de-
serting in despair its ancient methods, is abandoning itself to mysti-

* A striking evidence of this is found in tlie following passage from Lessing, a
distinguislied German critic, but unfortunately a sceptic on the subject of Christian-
ity, as quoted by Dr. Pye Smith, in his Scripture Testimony to the Messiah, vol.
iii. p. 236. Speaking of the liberal or rationalist divines of his country, lie says,
"Under the pretence of making us rational Christians, they have made us most
irrational philosophers. * * i agree with you that our old religious system is false,
but I cannot say, as you do, that it is a botch-work of half philosophy and smatter-
ings of knowledge. I know nothing in the world that more drew out and exercised
a fine intellect. A botch-work of smatterings and half philosophy is that system
of religion which people now want to set up in the place of the old one ; and with
far more invasion upon reason and philosophy than the old -one ever pretended to.
If Christ is not the True God, the Mohammedan religion is indisputably far better
than the Christian, and Mohammed himself was incomparably a greater and mure
honorable man than Jesus Christ; for he was more truth-telling, more circumspect in
what he said, and more zealous for the honor of the one and only God, than Christ
was, who, if he did not exactly give himself out for God, yet at least said a hundred
two-meaning things to lead simple people to think so ; while Mohammed could
never be charged with a single instance of double-dealing in this w.ay." How true
it is, that to abstract the doctrines of the Godhead and atonement of Jesus Christ
from the New Testament, is to leave it an abyss qf inconsistencies ' T.

XXVlll INTRODUCTION.

cism. In its need of some other light than its own, it has recourse
to revelations, it is giving itself things to believe ; it will believe them
so long as it thinks it has invented them. It is ours to point out to
it what has never entered the heart of man — ours to render it more
and more sensible of that obscure want which begins to have some
consciousness of itself, that longing to attach reason to faith, and
science to something revealed."

That there is a Christian philosophy, a religion of God, as far
superior to all human philosophies and human religions as the
heavens are higher than the earth, no believer in divine revelation
can doubt. It is not, however, a speculation or a theory, but a system
of absolute and authoritative truth, so simple and so practical that
all, even the unlettered peasant and the degraded slave, can receive
it and apply it as the power of God unto salvation. After rejecting
with contempt the wisdom or philosophy of this world, the apostle Paul
adds : " Howbeit. we speak wisdom {sophid) among them that are
perfect, yet not the wisdom of this world, nor of the princes of this
world, which come to naught ; but we speak the wisdom of God in a
mystery." That is to say, this philosophy, or religion of God, is a
revelation from above, or the development by God himself of what
otherwise would be a mystery or secret, a philosophy, therefore, of
original and positive truths, a definite, absolute, authoritative philoso-
phy. It is thence to be received, not as a deduction of reason, but
as an inspiration from on high, a doctrine altogether peculiar, alto-
gether divine, " the wisdom of God in a mystery, even the hidden
wisdom which God ordained before the world to our glory ; — for it
is written. Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, neither have en-
tered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for
them that love him." These things are the original facts spoken of
by our author, as equivalent in authority to the great intuitive truths
which all philosophers admit without proof, and antecedent to all
speculation. Of such revealed facts, philosophy has never dreamed.
Her eye has never seen them. Her ear has never heard them.
Her soul has never conceived aught even resembling them. They
are hidden from the world entirely. For what man, to quote the
language of St. Paul, knoweth the things of man, save the spirit of
man that is in him ? And who but the Spirit of God knows the

INTRODUCTION. XXIX

things of God ? Man may know himself; man can alone know what
passes in his own interior nature. No being in the universe, but
God and himself, can know the facts of his own mental experience.
But while man may be conversant with his own mind, he cannot, in
the same sense, be conversant with the mind of God. Therefore the
Spirit of God must give us a religion, in other words, reveal to us the
mind of God. It is as impossible for man to give us a perfect reli-
gion, as it is for one born blind to give us the knowledge of colors.
It is true that man is made in the image of God ; and he may thence
infer, in a general way, that God is an intelligent, designing, and
governing Being, and that he will be controlled by the principles of
righteousness and benevolence ; but a finite mind can never be the
gauge of one that is infinite. No creature can take upon himself
to reveal the designs, and mark out the conduct of his Creator, in all
the possible cases in w^hich it may be necessary for him to interpose
in the affairs of mankind. Man may perfectly manifest himself, but
he cannot perfectly manifest God. It would be an infinite presump-
tion for him to announce the principles on which the Almighty will
dispose of imperfect and sinful beings, and what provision he will
make for them in the everlasting future. This is a matter pertain-
ing to the Mind or Spirit of God ; it is a subject for an exclusive and
authoritative revelation. " But God hath revealed them unto us by
his Holy Spirit." Hence the religion of God, or Christianity, is not
a deduction, but a testimony, not a system of opinions, but a mani-
festation of truth. The natural man, that is, the uninspired or unen-
lightened man, cannot know, cannot discover, " the things" of such
a revelation ; for they are spiritually discerned. They shine only in
their own light, can be seen only in their own light. Properly speak-
ing, they cannot be proved, they do not need to be proved.* Like the
sun, or the stars of heaven, they need only to be seen. They decline
all attestation and support from man's philosophy. They infinitely
transcend all his science and logic. In a word, they are divine, they
proceed from the Infinite Mind, are matters of pure revelation, and
are to be received in adoring reverence, on the simple ground of his
indisputable authority. Man can measure the stars, and subdue the
lightning ; he can descend into the bowels of the earth, and bring to-

* We use the term proved here in its strict logical sense, as equivalent to demon'
strated. No one needs to prove that the sun shines. He sees it, he feels it.

XXX INTRODUCTION.

gether the petrified relics of past generations, and thence write the his-
tory of the earth's revolutions ; nay, he can analyze his own feelings,
and construct a mental philosophy ; but he cannot enter the mind of
God, he cannot fathom the depths of his infinite counsels. " Who by
searching can find out God, who can find out the Almighty to perfec-
tion ?" Who then will venture to sit in judgment on " the things that
are freely given us of God ;" or arraign the wisdom of a scheme for
the redemption of man originating in the mind of Jehovah ?

Those that convey this revelation to us demand investigation as
divine messengers. They court it even, they glory in it. For this
purpose they present divine credentials, that is, indisputable and
well-known facts, which can be accounted for only on the supposi-
tion of their being supernatural or divine ; but they will not allow the
message itself to be questioned by a human tribunal, to which, from
the very nature of the case, it cannot submit. That message they
convey to us as a testimony from Heaven, a philosophy from the In-
finite, a religion from God. And who shall say that it is not reful-
gent with the light which irradiates the eternal throne ?

That Jesus Christ, his apostles and ministers existed, that they
wrought stupendous miracles, that they fully authenticated their mis-
sion, who that knows history, who that has read the New Testament,
can doubt ? Reason decides this point, and decides it on the same
principles on which it proves any fact in science and history. But
the communication which these divine messengers bring to the
world, is another thing. While it is revealed through select instru-
mentalities, it proceeds from God, and has no taint of human imper-
fection. In the great truths of Christianity we have absolutely and
truly the mind of God. This was the constant claim of Christ and
his apostles ; and if their credentials cannot be sustained, the whole
falls to the ground as a deception or an imposture. That man who
disputes the miracles and the historical facts, calling them myths or
legends, denies the gospel, rejects Christianity. He makes the Son
of God an impostor, and his apostles fanatics, fools, or knaves. He
would leave us without a revelation, and prove himself a more honest
and a more able man than Jesus or Paul. But the credentials of the
Christian witnesses can be sustained, the miracles of Christ and his
apostles can be proved. The Son of God must have risen from the
dead ; or all history lies, all testimony is false, all virtue is a cheat.

INTRODUCTION. XXXi

A spiritual Christianity, and a perfect system of morals, at once
written and embodied, is an impossibility without a historical Chris-
tianity. It is the life without the man. As wel], then, might you
destroy the body for the purpose of saving the hfe, as abstract the
soul of Christianity from the outward form in which its divine Au-
thor enshrined it.

Having ascertained, by means of reason, the reality of the histori-
cal facts of Christianity, we are thus compelled to receive the rev-
elation which it conveys to us, as the religion of God.

Moreover, as light is made for the eyes, and thus adapts itself to
our physical wants, long before philosophy has discovered its nature
or analyzed its elements ; on which ground no reasoning can dis-
prove its reality or adaptation to the purposes of vision ; so the truth as
it is in Jesus, the light, or the love of Jehovah's heart, meets the wants
of the soul, else dark and dead, and actually transforms it into its
own radiant image, long before reason or philosophy can touch it,
either for approval or disapproval. Some sceptical theorist may deny
its divinity and power, on the ground of some preconceived notion
or fancy of his own ; but what is that in view of the stupendous fact
that the gospel has actually proved itself the power of God and the
wisdom of God unto salvation ? Here is light, light divine, and all
the reasoning in the world cannot disprove it. " God who caused
the light to shine out of darkness hath shined into our hearts, to give
us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus."

Reason cannot create facts, neither can it uncreate them. It must
take them as they are, for better or for worse ; and well for it if it
can discover their glorious harmonies and uses.

In a word, it is infinitely more reasonable to believe Christianity
than to disbelieve it ; even if Christianity, in some of its aspects,
transcends the compass and grasp of the finite intellect. It is a fact,
clear as the sunshine, evident as the day ; though, like that sunshine>
it come from the depths of heaven, or like that day, it rest in the
bosom of an infinite night.

And if Christianity be a revelation of the Divine Wisdom, we may
well ask, Shall " the mind of God" permit itself to be questioned by
the mind of man ? Shall the decisions of infinite wisdom appear be-
fore a human tribunal '? Shall a divine philosophy, a method of par-
don and eternal life from God himself, be submitted to the meagre

XXXU INTRODUCTION.

philosophy and the petty logic of the men of this world ? Shall the
gospel of Christ the religion of the ever-blessed God, bow down and
do homage to the gross materialism of one set of philosophers, or the
transcendental mysticism of another ? Above all, shall it be forced
to cast oif all its glories, and lie in the dust, a withered and degraded
thing, to gratify the pride of some rhapsodizing spiritualist, who be-
lieves himself wiser than Christ and all his apostles ? No ! the
foolishness of God is wiser than man, and the weakness of God is
stronger than man. Christianity is either true or false, divine or
human. If true, if divine, it is absolutely true, absolutely divine.
It is a matter of infinite obligation, and must be received in all its
length and breadth of authority and application. We do not want
simply to think, to hope, to imagine : we want to know, to believe,
to rejoice. In man, however, we can never confide. A philosophy
either all human, or half human and half divine, we cannot trust.
We need a religion from God, an absolute religion, a perfect and in-
destructible faith, a religion for life, a religion for death, a religion
for immortality ; so that " our faith may stand, not in the wisdom of
man, but in the power of God." With this, we shall be safe ; with
this, happy and triumphant,

"Amid the wreck of matter and the crash of worlds!"

The world by wisdom never knew God, never can know God.
All attempts to discover, that is, to work out and excogitate a per-
fect religion, must, from the nature of the case, prove utter failures.
In fact, the thing involves an impossibility ; for as water can never
rise above its own level — since the part is never equal to the whole
— since imperfection and sin can never comprehend the infinite and
the holy — so man can never give us the knowledge of the true God
and eternal life. Never can he solve the mighty problem, " How
shall man be just with God ;" how shall the unclean unite itself
with the pure, the finite with the infinite, the fallen with God ? The
Father of spirits must himself interpose, and give us such clear and
explicit information that no sincere and humble man may err upon
points of such vast and thrilling interest.

If, then, philosophy cannot discover a perfect religion, it cannot
certainly modify and improve the one already given us by God.
Like the sun, this may have its obscurities, nay, it may be dark from

INTRODUCTION. XXXUl

excess of brightness. But this is no more than might have been ex-
pected. Indeed, this very circumstance is one of the most striking
evidences of its divinity. A religion from God must have its aspect
of mystery and difficulty. It belongs to the infinite, it runs into
eternity. Its truths are the stars of a boundless expanse, and are
set in a firmament of gloom. All nature is mysterious ; but who
would think of improving it 1 Can any one give sweeter hues to
the rose of Sharon or the lily of the valley ? Can he whiten the
driven snow, or impart a deeper blue to the arch of heaven ? Can
he give a nobler curve to the neck of the war-horse, or add a more
beautiful green to the grass of the fields ? Can he dispose the stars
above him in more perfect order, or add a deeper lustre to their sil-
very light ? What, then, can speculative philosophy do for the
Christian religion ? What can reason add to the power of God, and
the wisdom of God ? Above all, shall philosophy dare to remove a
single tint, a single leaf or flower, not to speak of a branch or limb,
from the great Christian tree ? Shall we permit it to tarnish the
glory of God manifest in tlie flesh, the work of Christ's atoning sac-
rifice, or the beauty and perfection of the new-born soul ? No ! it
has nothing to do with religion but to adore it, to fall prostrate at the
feet of the Son of God, and " crown him Lord of all."

And yet, speculative philosophy has ever been tampering with
Christianity, ever debasing its purity, ever weakening its power. By
commingling her own imaginations with the plain declarations of
the word of God, she has produced what Lord Bacon calls " male
Sana admixtio,^^ infinitely worse than positive error itself; for the
corruption of a good thing, as Horace suggests, ever becomes the
worst of all. Nay more, philosophy has even asserted a sort of su-
premacy over Christianity, now modifying this, now changing that,
now adding one feature, and then abstracting another, till religion,
in her hands, has been transformed from an angel of light into a
hideous phantom or an unsubstantial ghost. What ! human phi-
losophy superior to religion ! Human reason above divine ! Why,
that is to cast down Jehovah from his supremacy, and exalt man to
the throne.

But what is philosophy ? The speculations of one man, and noth-
ing more. In its last analysis it is reduced to this. For it has no ex-
istence separate from the mind of an individual, and no authority but

2*

XXXIV INTRODUCTION.

what it derives from this source. It is the system of Spinoza or of
Descartes, of Leibnitz or of Wolf, of Kant or of Hegel, of Locke or
of Helvetius. It is the notions, perhaps, of Jouffroy, of Cousin, of
Carlyle, or of some inferior spirits. A number of such persons may
unite in defending their favorite theories or peculiarities. They may
form a school, and give currency to a system ; but their combination,
in this case, gives their opinions no additional authority. They are
still the speculations or notions of distinct and independent individ-
uals. To be received they must pass into other individual minds,
into mine or thine, as it may happen, and thus possess no weight ex-
cept as the probable reasoning or plausible speculations of a single
fallible intellect. They may be true, but they are just as likely to
be false, nay, they are more likely to be false than true. Hence they
are ever fluctuating and passing away. One theory supersedes an-
other, and all become feeble and effete with age. Time will devour
the whole of them. And the reason of this is found in the simple
fact that they consist of speculations on subjects and relations which
lie beyond the bounds of the finite mind, and in nine cases out of ten,
are but the splendid imaginings of gifted but erring men. In such
a case, then, to assume a superiority over the religion of God, is to
deify the individual reason, to dethrone God and worship self.

Reason, as Vinet clearly shows, has her province, and a noble
one it is. It is hers to examine the credentials of the divine messen-
gers, to question their character and purposes, to hear the voice of
God, and in some cases to explain and enforce its meaning ; for she
is conversant with man, in whose language God speaks to us, and
with whose modes of thought, feeling, and expression, reason is en-
tirely familiar. It is hers to admire and develop the beauty and har-
mony of the religion of God when received and authenticated ; — to
trace the connections of its various parts, the analogy of its principles
to the teachings of nature, and the consistency of its facts with tlie
profoundest experience of the human heart. Reason has been called
" lucerna Dei" and " the candle of the Lord within us ;" but certainly
it is not fitted to illuminate the sun. It has also been denominated
" the eye of the soul," and if it is so, most assuredly its proper func-
tion is simply to receive the light, not to mingle it with its own vi-
sions and obscurities. In that light it may see things new and strange,
perhaps startling, nevertheless it must receive them without a mur-

INTRODUCTION, XXXV

mur. It is not placed in the soul to create the light, or to change it
in any way, but to receive it as it shines from the heaven of heavens.

But men talk of reason as if it were a God, as if they themselves
were God ; and thence plunge headlong into the infinite ocean of
speculation and uncertainty. In their adventurous course, their
heated imagination may see many strange sights, and their pen may
describe them in language of surpassing eloquence ; but they will
soon find themselves in the very abyss of doubt, perhaps of despair.
Indeed we learn, from the whole experience of the past, that the aban-
donment of an authoritative revelation, and an eager and consistent
pursuit of what is called " the truth," meaning by this the absolute
nature of things, ever conducts to infidelity or mysticism, to transcen-
dental and impalpable spiritualism, or to absolute and atheistic doubt.

For the same reason, much of the religion which is popular and
fashionable in certain quarters, or what is sometimes dignified with
the title of rational Christianity, is not religion, but philosophy, not
absolute faith, but human opinion. It consists, perhaps, of an ad-
mixture of philosophical speculation with Christianity, or it is Chris-
tianity eviscerated and withered by the refining process of rationalistic
criticism. Hence it is ever changing in its character, and gradually
but irresistibly tends to infidelity, to whose ranks it is constantly
transferring its votaries. It is ever learning, ever advancing and
improving, as its abettors would say, but never comes to the knowl-
edge of the truth. In one case, it is transcendentalism and the gos-
pel, in another, materialism and Christianity ; in a third, a vague
mixture of all sorts of notions ; and in a fourth, a single feature or
element of the gospel, surrounded with the grossest scepticism, like
a single tree or fountain in a boundless desert.

How clear, then, it is, that we need to be believers, not specula-
tors ; men of God, not mere philosophers. The soul of man longs for
certainty and rest, absolute security and untroubled repose. Where
shall we find it ? In the dreams of speculative philosophy ? In
transcendental mysticism ? In cold and heartless rationalism ? In
the endless diversities, the beautiful but ever-shifting visions of ra-
tional or liberal Christianity ? No ! but in the cross of Christ ; in
the atonement and intercession of the great Mediator ; in that good
hope through grace, inspired, not put, begotten, not made, by the in-
dwelling Spirit of the Son of God.

XXXVl INTRODUCTION.

The importance of these principles is receiving the most striking
illustrations in the present day. Not understanding them, and not
finding sure anchorage in the haven of absolute and authoritative
revelation, some are driven abroad upon the open sea of conjecture
and doubt ; now impelled towards the rocks of infidelity, now ima-
gining they have discovered the promised land, the Eldorado of
philosophy and religion, in some new and visionary theory, or in
some singular and unheard-of system of biblical interpretation ; then
contending with the waves of scepticism ; and finally engulfed in
the roaring surge of atheism and despair. One rejects the divinity
and inspiration of Christ, justification by faith, and the regeneration
of the soul by the Holy Spirit ; — and, in order to maintain his theory,
casts away some portions of the word of God, and subjects others to
a most tortuous and ungenerous criticism. Another spiritualizes the
whole, and establishes his philosophy or his creed on the ruins of
common sense and all established principles of scriptural criticism.
While a third, wiser forsooth than all the rest ! rejects one half of
the word of God as puerile, and makes myths and legends of the
rest ; casts away the prophecies and the miracles ; denies the incar-
nation and resurrection of Christ ; insists that Jesus was only a man,
a good and a noble-hearted man, but nothing more ; maintains that
other Christs may yet arise, greater even than he was, that all Chris-
tianity is transient, except one or two great principles ; and hence
pours contempt on the mediation and atonement of Christ, which the
whole company of apostles, and the church of all ages, have regard-
ed as the power of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation !

Others there are, who, after infinite wanderings, and the most
strange and startling changes, " ever learning, but never coming to
the knowledge of the truth," like Cain, vagabonds in the realm of
spiritual things, seeking rest and finding none, finally abandon the
pursuit as hopeless, and neglecting the great salvation, rush into the
open arms of Rome, renounce their individuality, and find repose in
the absolute and infallible dogmas of a corrupt and superstitious
church. Such persons may imagine they have entered a magnificent
palace, but it will be found that they are enclosed within the walls
of a horrid prison. They have mistaken the despotism of man for
the religion of God.

We have been constrained to make these remarks introductory to

INTRODUCTION. XXXVll

the following work, because we deem them of moment at the pres-
ent time, and in the hope that they may dispose some to read, with
greater interest, its lucid and striking delineations of the religion of
God.

As to the translation, we may be permitted to say that we have
endeavored to steer a middle course between a rigidly literal, and a
very free version. It has been our aim, as much as possible, to pre-
serve the peculiarities of the author ; but we have not felt ourselves
bound, in every case, to give the exact turn or order of expression,
particularly in those cases where a literal rendering would have been
a bad, or a clumsy one. Still, in several instances, we have retained
the French idiom, believing that its occasional use gives interest and
vivacity to the translation. Vinet is by no means an easy author to
translate. The original and philosophical cast of his thoughts, the
delicacy of his conceptions, and the refined but beautiful turns of
his expression, are not easy to transfer into clear and elegant En-
glish. Indeed, a perfect rendering of any book is scarcely attainable,
but an approximation to it may be made by repeated efforts. After
all, much of the beauty and power of a great and original work must
be lost by the transference, like the delicate bloom of flowers, which
is liable to vanish in the process of transplantation. But we have
done what we could to present the thoughts and expression of our
author to English readers ; and " we cast it into the world," to use
his own words, " commending it to the Divine blessing, which can
cause some fruits of holiness and peace to spring from it for the
benefit of the Christian Church."

Hartford, 1850.

MONTAIGIE;

WITH

THE ENDLESS STUDY, and OTHER MISCELLANIES.

•X-

MONTAIGNE;*

OR, THE NATURE AND PRINCIPIE OF MORALITY.

(from "ESSAIS DE PHILOSOPHIE MORALE.")

We have endeavored to satisfy ourselves as to the
causes of the popularity of certain authors, who are not
only relished by the public as writers, but treated as in-
timate friends, and towards whom a sentiment more
affectionate than admiration is incessantly attracting
readers. Montaigne, La Fontaine, Madame De Se-
vigne, and Voltaire, are of this class. There is a
charm, doubtless, in the frank ingenuousness of the first
three, and in the elegant and lucid simplicity of the last
— a charm that may help to explain w^hy in all times,
they have been the favorites of the public ; but the
greater portion of that favor is due to another cause.
All four are, with reference to moral ideas, on a level
with the majority of their readers ; all four, devoted to
the world, without having repudiated all ideas of duty
and propriety, prescribing to each of us precisely what
we should have prescribed to ourselves, or what nature
inspires — enemies to excess in virtue as well as in vice
— partisans of the golden mean, which is the soft orna-

* For some accoiint of Montaigne and Lis writings, see Sketch at the
close of tliis essay, p. 56.

42 vinet's miscellanies.

ment of the civilized world — expert in rendering us
satisfied with ourselves, dispensing us from toils and
struggles, they marvellously flatter our spiritual indo-
lence, but without revolting our moral sentiment.* Is
it surprising, then, that they please us ? Is it not by
just such means we are pleased in society ? Are not
the persons whose intercourse attracts us, fashioned
precisely after this model ? Besides, we have, in favor
of our explanation, direct proof — the proof of fact.
Who does not know, that it is this verv want of firm-
ness in moral doctrines, this exquisite tolerance which
endures the evil as well as the good, this preference
given to natural qualities over acquired virtues, which
is most earnestly praised in La Fontaine, in Madame
Sevigne, and especially in Montaigne ?

Read the panegyrists of this last writer ; you will find
them conceding praise to that in him which is really
deserving of reprehension — the want of fixedness and
rigor of morals. They prove, by this means, that they
themselves are wanting in the fixed and immutable prin-
ples, the absence of which is characteristic of Montaigne.
Otherwise, they would have condemned the looseness of
his doctrines — nay, they would have gone further, as far
as we claim to go to-day, and affirmed that in Mon-
taigne's book there is, properly speaking, no morality.

They would have come to this conclusion, from the
manner in which he treats the idea of God.

In his essays, Montaigne speaks frequently of God,
but nowhere as the source whence our obedience to
the moral law derives its sanction.

It is on this ground we maintain that he has no mo-
rality ; as we shall endeavor to prove, by considering

* Exceptis Excipiendig.

MONTAIGNE ON MORALITY. 43

morality : first, with reference to its extent ; secondly,
with reference to its principle or its nature.

What is the extent or sphere of morality ? Once set
aside the idea of God, what shall we say ? Where find
a measure that shall not be arbitrary ? What is the
maxim, however vast, that does not admit of the suppo-
sition, beyond its sphere, of indefinite developments?
What principle includes all which obedience to God can
include — all, indeed, which it necessarily embraces ?
To do to others nothing which we would not have
them do to us ; to do to others everything that we
would have them do to us — these comprehend only the
morality of the social relations. Moreover, how can we
know, with reference to the second of these maxims,
whence to deduce such a morality ? We seem to see
in it only a sublime absurdity, or a wandering ray from
the morality of angels, or a lost fragment of religion.
To live conformably to our nature, another vaunted
maxim, is only a vicious circle. What is our nature ?
Who knows it ? — who, at least, knows our origin ?
Who can remount to our origin, without remounting
to God ? Who can remount to God, without recogniz-
ing the fact, that to him must be referred, and from
him derived, all morality worthy of the name ? The
standard of morality, then, is vague, arbitrary, and in
every sense limited, so long as we cannot comprehend
it with relation to the Author of the Universe, and, so
to speak, from the summit of Divinity. This idea is
the only one which envelops man entire, the only one
which develops man entire, the only one which illumi-
nates and controls his whole nature. God is, in the
moral world, what his sun is in the physical world :
" Nothing is hid from the heat thereof."

44 vinet's miscellanies.

From what other source can we take the standard of
morality ? Can we take it from the idea of mo-
raUty ? It is true, we feel vaguely that morality is
the law of perfection ; true, that from the very impossi-
bility of assigning it a limit, we conclude that it is un-
limited ; true, that we find it easier to deny it than to
restrict it; and certainly no one can propose to be im-
perfect. But one of two things is true : either the idea
of God, previously formed, causes us to measure the ex-
tent of the moral law, and proportions it to our senti-
ments and will ; in which case, we have the proof we
sought ; or the moral law faithfully followed, from height
to height, must cause us to gravitate towards God, who
then becomes to us an immutable centre and point of
observation. In both cases, the idea of perfection
shows itself inseparable from that of God; and it may
be affirmed, that he whose moral determinations do not
take their departure from God, nor return to God, can-
not have perfection for his measure of morality.

He can have for his measure only man in general, or
some individual in particular, or himself

But these diverse steps represent only illusive distan-
ces. Detached from the supreme platform, which is
God, man must slide from one point of descent to anoth-
er, till he comes to the lowest, which is his individuality.
Man in general ! But where is man in general ? On
what ground should that uncertain type be offered to us
as the standard of human duty ? And how shall a sin-
gle individual dare to offer himself as such a standard ?
In vain does man, fallen from the summit, hold back,
and clinging, try to suspend himself a few moments
upon that steep declivity ; the law of gravity drags him
to the bottom, where he finds a sort of station or basis,

MONTAIGNE ON MORALITY. 45

the last of the whole, which we will call individuality,
and which, under the different names of character, tem-
perament, natural constitution, forms, in the last analy-
sis, the morality of those who have not God. Thence
morality is not the imprint of a common type, but the
simple portrait of the individual, and so far from the law
serving as a standard to the individual, it is the individ-
ual who serves as a standard to the law.

In all cases, indeed, to suppose it possible for the in-
dividual to find and submit to a law which is not him-
self, and which is not God, to give himself a morality
greater than himself, and yet without being infinite, we
should say, is not only to be beneath God, but beneath
perfection, even if he should measure his morality by
that of an angel ; and being placed beneath perfection,
is to be without the sphere of morality altogether.

Montaigne has exemplified all the consequences of
the abandonment of this great idea. He has taken in
himself, in his own individuality, the measure of the law
by which he would be governed. So that his morality,
in all the strictness of the term, is only the morality of
Montaigne, the morality of his character, of his tem-
perament, of his education ; in a word, it is Montaigne
himself, neither more nor less. Indeed, he neither im-
poses upon himself nor upon others in this respect. He
takes no pains to conceal this fact ; he claims, that
" man is far gone to conform his obligation to the reason
of any other being but his own." Thus we may expect
to find in his morality both good and evil, both strength
and weakness, both severity and laxity, following what-
ever his nature borrows from the one or other of these
tendencies. Nor is this expectation disappointed, for
such is Montaigne ; his moral ideas, incoherent, incon-

46 vinet's miscellanies.

sistent, and grotesque, have no other centre than his
own individuality — a happy one, we grant, in the esti-
mation of many.

Let us now change the point of view, and consider
morahty in its nature.

Considered in its nature, moraUty is obedience to the
law of duty.

The idea of duty involves, necessarily, that of obliga-
tion towards an authority beyond us and above us.

Now what authority can we obey, if we obey not
God?—

Interest ? that is to say, ourselves.

Instinct ? that is to say, ourselves.

Habit ? that is to say, ourselves.

That is to say, that we do not obey at all.

We often hear persons speak of duties to themselves,
an idea to which may correspond that of obedience to
themselves ; but who would take literally and seriously
this figure or play of words ? The expression is self-
contradictory ; the moment one obeys himself he ceases
to obey, and a duty which one believes to have refer-
ence purely and exclusively to himself, is no duty at all.
It is unnecessary to insist upon this. But interest, in-
stinct, habit, are the Me (our own personality) seen on
three different sides ; or, if you please, these are forces
to which we yield, but not authorities which we obey ;
and so true is this that duty, in the majority of cases,
consists precisely in resisting interest, instinct, and habit.

It would be contradictory to place an idea X)f duty in
obedience to the tendencies, the repression of which
constitutes duty itself

Pardon me, says Montaigne, there is a conscience.
We obey conscience.

MONTAIGNE ON MORALILY. 47

It is in point to observe here that Montaigne, in many-
places, speaks of conscience as a reaUty, while in oth-
ers he speaks of it as the fruit of custom.* This uncer-
tainty ought not to surprise us ; it is easy to fall into it
(as is too often done) whenever conscience is confounded
with the moral law. The moral law, body of notions, ob-
ject composite, which on one side combines with our sen-
timents, on the other with external things, is for this very
reason, capable of alteration, and has suffered much
from the corruption of man. Conscience, a simple fac-
ulty, an elementary principle, has remained intact. It
is nothing but the sentiment of obligation in its greatest
purity, in its most abstract state.

Whatever it may be, since the idea of obligation is
found at the basis of every definition of conscience, it
follows, that, in every case, morality which is obedience
to conscience, is obedience to the sentiment of obligation.
Thus we find ourselves brought back to obligiation, a
relative idea, an idea which supposes a duality, that is
to say, a subject and an object.

In recognizing conscience, you recognize that you
are under obligation ; but to whom ?

To God, or to yourself?

If to yourself, we have already seen that this is no
obligation at all.

If, however, you continue to feel yourself bound by
obligation, that obligation must find an object, and that
object can be no other than God.

But you resist, you reclaim against this. " No," say
you, " the object of our obedience is neither ourselves,
nor God ; it is the good. Why substitute God for the

* Essak, 54, I. chap. 22,

48 vinet's miscellanies.

good ? Why introduce into morality a foreign element ?
Why transform it into religion ?

First, on the supposition that God exists, we must neces-
sarily admit, either that the good does not exist, or that it
exists in him ; for to conceive of God, is to conceive of a
centre where every will gravitates ; for if we refuse to
God the character of being the source and principle of
good, we not only strip him of his glory, but of his na-
ture, nay, of his very being ; for a God to whom every-
thing does not tend, is nothing.*

We substitute God for good, in order to put a reality
in the place of an idea ; for good is only an attribute,
a quality, a mode of being, which supposes a subject.
If the good can dwell in us who are created beings, it is
because it dwells primarily in an uncreated Being,
from whom everything is derived ; and thence, to re-
mount to perfect good, we must remount to God.

We substitute God for good, because it is not in the
order of things to be responsible to an idea ; because
the living substance of an idea, the being who possesses
the idea as a quality having vanished, all sanction of
that idea, all guaranty of its existence or force vanishes
also ; because the substance of that idea is not beyond
our ME, (our individual personality,) it is our me (person-
ality) itself; and the source of good being adorable, in the
true sense of the term, it clearly follows that there is no
choice between adoring ourselves or adoring God.

There are many other reasons for substituting God
for good ; but we designedly exclude from a discussion
purely metaphysical, proofs of a practical kind ; we con-

* The word tend, which is very expressive here, is used as equivalent
to refer or relate, only it indicates the intimate nature and strength of
the relation, God is the centre of all things. — T.

moxtaigxM: on morality. 49

tent ourselves with appealing to the nature of things,
and resuming what we have already said, ask two
questions. Is the voice of conscience ourselves, or
something above ourselves ? Is that w^hich binds and
controls us in spite of our wishes, our tastes, our most
pressing interests — is it the me, or the not me ?*' If it
is the not me, as it is impossible to doubt, is not that
NOT me, God ? If conscience is the ambassador of
God, is it possible to receive the ambassador and
reject the sovereign ? Is it not a mockery, to admit
the conscience, and set aside God ? For when the
conscience has nothing to appeal to, when its letters of
credit are torn to pieces, what is to prevent us from
rejecting it with contempt ? Upon this point we should
be ashamed to say another word.

Let us add, however, a fact of grea.t interest ; three
fourths of mankind instinctively adhere to the position
we maintain ; for, says M. Cousin, " three fourths of
mankind have no morality but that of religion," — that
is to sav, three fourths of mankind have no other con-
ception of morality, which is perfectly true. The
other fourth do not thus judge of it ; they have intel-
lect enough to inpose silence on the voice of nature ;
but the instinct which demands a God is more imposing
than the subtilty w^hich rejects him !

If any one who cares nothing for God, persists in re-
taining, in his vocabulary, the words, conscience and
moral obligation, you may well tell him that such invol-
untary persistence reveals to him a God, to whose ex-
istence he is compelled to render testimony ; and that
he cannot, therefore, too soon hasten to put God in the
place, or rather at the head of these abstract ideas.

* Our own per?oiiality, or something else ?

o
u

50 vinet's miscellanies.

Let us return to Montaigne. To make a morality
conformable to, or identical with his temperament, it
was necessary, first, to disencumber himself of God ;
an easy matter, silence alone sufficed ; but what was
more difficult was to rid himself of the idea of death ;
but this idea carefully pondered, includes or suggests
all those infinite ideas, the foundation of which the
author was so careful to sweep away. There would
be no pressing reason to introduce God into life, if life
were to last forever ; but it has an end, an end myste-
rious, foreboding and full of fears. Here God is neces-
sary; this idea returns whatever we do; death calls
back upon the scene that august name, and with it re-
turns morality, not that of temperament, but of perfec-
tion. Death then is Montaigne's enemy ; he has done
nothing to rid himself of that ; he must try, therefore,
to kill death, by tearing from him his sting, but in a
way which is not that of St. Paul.

All he will have to do will be, to put it into the head
of people that death is a final end, and that there is no-
thing after. And as that is not peculiarly agreeable at
first blush, he will put in requisition all his powers, to
prevent the horrible and appalling dread of annihilation
from succeeding, in the soul, to the terrors of final
judgment, which he has just succeeded in dissipating.

Do w^e calumniate him ? In that case we can say,
that he was wilhng to do so.

How can it be reasonably supposed that a religious
man, a Christian, having to fortify his soul against the
fear of death, should refer to none of those consoling
ideas which religion 'opposes to the terrors of the last
day?

How not accuse of materialism a man who, to re-as-

MONTAIGNE ON MORALITY. 51

sure you with reference to death, should tell you that it
was a part of the universal order of things ; that one
may blunt its point, by trying it habitually against his
heart ; that death combines many things with which we
are very familiar, such as sleep and fainting, being itself
only a slumber more profound, a swoon more complete ?
BufTon, employing the same kind of arguments, ex-
claims, " Why fear death ?" but adds, from a regard
to the Sorbonne, and his own tranquillity, " if we
have only lived well," a restriction at once prudent
and pleasing, of which we defy any one to find an
equivalent in the author of the Essays. However, if
he did not put it into his book, he took care to put into
his life something which might take its place. Like
Buffon, he also had his parenthesis, a little different, per-
haps, namely : " if one live well xoith the churchy" or
rather, " if one die in the church." And indeed, it was
thus he died, to the great consolation of many people,
who have no doubt, even in the presence of his writings,
that he was a good Christian at heart. He had certainly
promised himself such an end ; he made his calculations
to die a Christian. " At the very commencement," says
he, " of the fevers and maladies which attack me,
being yet in fair health, I reconcile myself to God by
Christian rites, and find myself more free and easy. . .
Let us live and enjoy ourselves among our friends ; let
us die and grow gloomy among strangers ; by paying
for it, one finds those who write his will, and those who
anoint his feet."*

* It is well known that Montaigne, after indulging a boundless scep-
ticism, and jesting at aU things serious and divine, on his deathbed called
for the priests of the papal church, and partook of the sacrament, and
extreme unction. — T.

52 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

These citations will surprise some persons, and they
may ask, how can they be reconciled with the pains
which Montaigne takes to withdraw from the Supreme
Being the government of human life ? That is a psycho-
logical phenomenon which deserves our serious regard.

About the sixteenth century, doctrine and morality,
which in religion form a whole, for religion is only the
fusion of these two elements, were found deplorably
severed ; the one went in one direction, the other in an-
other. To believe and to live, had become two things,
distinct and independent. Thus separated, doctrine
was nothing more than a hieroglyph, without a key ;
morality a law, without a true sanction. Thereupon,
men had to choose between two parts: either to re-
establish the broken unity, or to consummate the sepa-
ration. The reformers chose the first part ; the free-
thinkers, the second. The latter commenced by
making a solemn reserve with reference to the ancient
faith, of which they hoped to avail themselves in the
hour of need, and to which, in other respects, custom
bound them. Resembling those persons who, wishing
to run across the fields, begin by carefully securing the
house, but in order to be able to return, in case of storm
or danger, carry off* the key in their pocket, they began
to philosophize and moralize on all the subjects of their
investigations, as freely as if the religion they professed
were nothing but a statue. Always good Catholics,
they did not hesitate in their writings to become deists,
materialists, and, in a few cases, atheists ; the whole
without regard to consequences ; so that in the same in-
dividual there were two beings, side by side, who took
the greatest care not to elbow each other — the man of
custom and calculation, who was catholic, and the man

MONTAIGNE ON MORALILY. 53

of thought, who was everything else. Some of them
might be seen, tossing their words by turns in opposite
directions. Occasionally, the cassock of the ecclesias-
tic covered a philosopher, who demolished, in his secu-
lar habit, what he had established in his black robe, and
that without scruple, without the slightest conscious-
ness of inconsistencv. Such was Charron, '* who,
having an eloquent tongue, was employed in preaching
the word of God, and confirmed the wavering in the
faith." This same Charron did not the less write the
book called Wisdom, (Sagesse,) which brought him so
much applause from the sceptics of the eighteenth cen-
tury. In the preface to Wisdom, he informs us " that
this work, which instructs us to live well, is entitled
Wisdom, as the preceding one, which instructed us to
believe, was called Truth.''* Speaking in another

* Chnrron had previously published a work called Verite, or Truth.
The following account of Charron is from Dugald Stewart's Preliminary
Dissertations on the History of Metaphysical and Ethical Science, p.
127: "Charron is well known as the chosen friend of Montaigne's
latter years, and as the confidential depositary of his philosophical sen-
timents. Endowed with talents far inferior in force and originahty to
those of his master, he possessed, nevertheless, a much sounder and
more regulated judgment ; and as his reputation, notwithstanding the
liberality of some of his peculiar tenets, was high among the most re-
spectable divines of his own church, it is far from improbable, that Mon-
taigne committed to him the guardianship of liis posthumous fame, from
motives similar to those Avhich influenced Pope in selecting "VVarburtou
as his literary executor. The discharge of this trust, however, seems to
have done less good to Montaigne than harm to Charron ; for while the
unlimited scepticism, and the indecent levities of the former were viewed
by the zealous of those days with a smile of tenderness and indulgence,
the slighter heresies of the latter were marked with a severity the more
rigorous and unrelenting, that, in points of essential importance, they
deviated so little from the standard of the Catholic faith." The state-
ment in the last sentence is to be received with some modification ; for

54 vinet's miscellanies.

place, of piety and virtue, he wishes "that each may sub-
sist and sustain itself without the aid of the other, act-
ing solely from its own principle." Is not this sufficiently
clear ? Besides, this book, as a w^hole, is an indirect
refutation of Christianity, and contains maxims hostile
to religion, even in the broadest sense of the term.
Some were scandalized by it ; but others, good Catho-
lics, were not at all ; they saw no inconsistency between
the robe of Charron and his book, between his first and
his last work ; and in their view, the censurers of Wis-
dom were " either malignant or superstitious persons,
who had a spirit, low, feeble, and flat."

Strange condition of souls ! but it is not peculiar to
the age of Montaigne and Charron. The same schism
between faith and morality exists in many who have
taken the same part as those two philosophers.
Christians in the church, pagans at home ; believers by
profession, infidels in reality ; retaining the received
creed, yet holding opinions which destroy it ; and all
this without the slightest consciousness or suspicion of
the fact. What, I ask vou, more common than this ?
But to return to Montaigne. A judicious critic, who
professes, on most occasions, great respect for religion,
has said, that Montaigne appears to rise above himself,
when he exhorts us to fortify our souls against the fear
of death. We too are of that opinion ; Montaigne is
nowhere richer, more varied, and eloquent. But how
comes it to pass, that the ingenious critic, neither here

Charron, in his day, certainly enjoyed the favor and confidence of the
great majority of his Catholic brethren, and even of leai-ned theologians.
His plulosophy was simply that of Montaigne methodized, and is equally
inconsistent with the pm-e and disinterested morality of the Christian
faith.— T,

MONTAIGNE ON MORALITY. 55

«

nor there, has called our attention to the fact, that these
passages, so beautiful in form, go to the extinction of all
religious morality ; and that it is the intense desire to
attain that mournful end, which renders those pages of
JMontaigne so eloquent ? How has the same writer no-
where remarked that the morality of Montaigne is
without any philosophical as well as religious basis ?*
Here we cannot refrain from observing a curious fact.
It is, that morality as a science does not exist among
us, since the retreat of relio;ious beliefs : that in the
midst of the revival of philosophical duties, their high-

* The critic referred to is Villemain, who, in liis '• Discours et Melan-
ges Litteraires," has said many fine things of the character and genius
of Montaigne. He admits, after all, that the morahty of liis favorite
is " Epicm-ean," and " proposes pleasure as its final aim," not indeed
vicious, but virtuous pleasm*e, or what he terms such ; so that virtue itself
is only " a pleasant and gay quahty, — qualitc plaisante and gaie." " The
morality of Montaigne," he says, " doubtless is not sufficiently perfect
for Christians^ " It is not founded upon self-denial, — Vabnegation de
eoi meme." His morality is good so far as it goes, good as prudence
perhaps, or, if you please, vrisdom, not good for Christians, and, conse-
quentl}-, incapable of producing self-denial and disinterestedness, heroic
or martyr virtue. If it corrects us, it does so -without producmg humil-
ity or penitence. It lops off a few broken twigs, but leaves the tree with
its old nature. So that Villemain has well remarked, that Montaigne
"corrects without humbhng us, — nous corrige sans nous humilier."
While Villemam admits Montaigne's Pyrrhonism, he maintains that he
believed in " God and in virtue." That is admitted ; but tlie question
arises, hoxo did he believe in God and in vhtue ? Does he refer all ac-
tions to God \ No. Does he derive his morality from God ? ]^o. Is
his \'irtue more than that of Epicurus ? No. All this Villemain virtu-
ally admits. As to Montaigne's views of death, the very best tiling that
Villemain can quote from him on tliis subject is the following : " Sortez
de ce monde commc vous y etes entre ; le mcmc passage, fjue vans avez fait
de la mort a la vie, sans passions et sans fraijeur, refaites-le de la vie d
la mort. Voire mort est unc des pieces de Vordre de Vunivers, une piece
de la vie du mo)ide" — T.

56 SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE.

*

est branch, moral philosophy, is nearly withered, and

that its place is marked as a blank in the picture of the

intellectual activity of France.* This fact deserves

attention.

The principal object of this essay has been to show

that morality, taken in its true nature and in its whole

extent, is compelled to find in God the first ring upon

which to suspend its chain. If it be objected to us, and

we earnestly desire that it may, that the idea of God

is not God, and if the theory of morality has need of the

idea of God, it is God himself that the moral life has

need of, we admit its force, nay, contend for the fact

upon which it is based, as a fundamental principle.

* We ought, nevertheless, to refer with gratitude to the admirable
work of M. do Gerando on Moral Improvement.

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE.

BY THE TRANSLATOR.

We add a few notices of Montaigne, for the sake of
those not familiar with his life and writings. They may
serve, perhaps, to elucidate and enforce the principles
of the preceding essay. We must confess, however, to
some predilection for Montaigne, notwithstanding his
admitted and glaring faults. His shrewd sense, happy
temperament, bizarre humor, racy style, and even bound-
less egotism, have a charm. His conduct as a man of
the world was fair, almost unexceptionable, that is, as
things generally go in this strange world of ours. He
had certainly frankness and genius, immense powers of
description, epigram, and gossip, all of which he mingles

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE. 57

indiscriminately in his writings. His essays have rare
freshness and vigor. They abound in strange and stri-
king thoughts, original conceptions, and lively figures.
Brusque and homely, dashed with a boldness and even
licentiousness, not unfrequently repulsive, and even
loathsome, he has vivid flashes of beauty and power, a
penetrating insight into men and things, and a suprising
mastery of earnest and homely speech. Indeed Mon-
taigne is the Hogarth of writers. Alternately he repels
and attracts his readers. Never dull, never common-
place, he is always amusing, and often instructive.

We agree fully with Villemain, who, in his eloquent
Eloge of Montaigne, endeavors to palliate his faults and
celebrate his virtues, that the old Gascon humorist was
" a profound thinker, during the reign of pedantry, an
ingenious and brilliant author in a language unformed
and barbarous ;"* nay more, we will allow that Montaigne
was honest, brave, and even generous in his way. Had
he been a mere heathen philosopher, he might have been
respected for his good sense and integrity, and his scep-
ticism, though mournful enough, might have been for-
given in consideration of his circumstances. Neither
would we make him an offender for a word, nor forget
that in an age of bigotry and outrage he was free from
intolerance and fanaticism.

But to all this there are serious drawbacks, and truth
demands from us, and from every one, an honest ex-
pression upon this subject. So that with reference
to Montaigne we must say what Cicero said of far
greater and better men, Socrates amicus, Plato amicus,
sed magis amica Veritas. Truth, then, compels us to
say, that Montaigne had no fundamental principles, his

* Melanges Litterairoc

58 SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE.

virtue was selfishness, at the best prudence — his rehgion
a joke — his philosophy fatalism — his life one long and
weary dream — and his works the exact mirror and
apology of his life. A greater egotist never lived — a
man of genius, with an appearance of solid principle and
substantial comfort, yet frivolous and vain, absurd and
aimless, from beginning to end. A shrewd observer,
an admirable anatomist of his own mind, a natural and
vigorous writer, he lived and died — must we say it ? —
" without God and without hope in the world." But he
was good-natured in his way, honest withal, hospitable
to his friends and visitors, a good landlord, an easy neigh-
bor, a fair husband, loved his wine, paid his debts, and
died in the Catholic faith. So far so good ; for such
things are not to be despised in men that might have
been w^orse. But all the good in Montaigne was due to
his constitution and habits of early training, his spirit
of forethought and contrivance, which he had in com-
mon with beavers and bees, and especially to his extreme
and Epicurean anxiety to be free from regret and care.
Not a particle of it is due to faith or to love, to the spirit
of religion or the spirit of virtue. God was often on his
lips, as in his writings, but not in his thoughts, above
all, not in his affections. Of faith, of prayer, of charity,
of " holy living" and "holy dying," he knew nothing.
He doubted of all things, of man, of God, of heaven, of
hell, of the soul, and of immortality, of religion, of phi-
losophy, of vice, and of virtue. All he claimed to know
certainly was, that there was such a man as Montaigne,
and that Montaigne should take srood care of himself;
that is, live as easy and die as easy as he could. Na-
ture is his God, if God he can be said to have But
Nature and Montaigne are one ! He lived, therefore,

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE. 59

according to Nature, that is, according to Montaigne.
He happened to be of an easy, firm, half-Epicurean,
half- Stoic turn of mind, shrewd in his calculations and
careful in his business ; he took good care of his health
and of his money, and so he succeeded in passing through
life without any great vices or great virtues, with tol-
erable comfort to himself and some satisfaction to his
neighbors. Had he been a positively bad man, like
manv of his admirers and followers, his notions, such as
they were, would have aggravated his temperament,
and furnished a plausible apology for his vice. By
means of such principles any " honest rogue" might
make out a very good case in his own behalf.

Born in the early part of the sixteenth century,
(1533,) at the chateau of the same name in Perigord,
Montaigne was educated with great freedom and care,
being awakened in the morning by the sound of musical
instruments, taught to speak and to read the Latin
tongue, even when a child, and encouraged to spend
much time in bodily exercises and out-door sports.
Left very much to the freedom of his own will, he was
subjected to little control, and incited to noble and vir-
tuous action only by the counsel and encouragement
of his parents. His father was of English descent,
though a citizen of France, who had distinguished him-
self as a soldier, and was chosen mavor of Bordeaux.
Proud of himself, of his castle, and of his reputation,
and equally proud of his little son, whom he regarded
as a sort of prodigy, he inspired the latter with a fair
proportion of the family pride and the family virtue.
At the age of thirteen, he had finished his studies
— so say his biograp. ers — at the college of Bordeaux,
where, among others, he enjoyed the instructions of the

60 vinet's miscellanies.

celebrated Protestant, George Buchanan, at that time
an exile from his native land. He was destined for a
judicial station, and was some time a parliamentary
counsellor ; but aversion to the duties of his office
caused him to retire from it. Subsequent to the death
of his father, he was elected mayor of the city of Bor-
deaux, the duties of which he discharged to the satisfac-
tion of the citizens. Attached by early ties to the Catholic
faith, which he probably despised in his heart, but held
as a reserve against danger ; averse also to everything
like care and self-denial, possessing an ample estate,
disposed to give full scope to all his tastes, and indul-
ging in a boundless freedom of inquiry, he abandoned
public life for more homely and congenial pursuits.
He travelled much in foreign lands, and received great
attentions in Rome and Paris. But he best loved his
home, and as he grew old, devoted himself chiefly to
the study and description of himself. He lays the
whole open, at least claims to do so, though probably
little suspecting the depths of vanity and folly which
lay beyond his gaze in the secret depths of the soul.
He parades his faults, makes a merit of his selfishness,
vanity, and indolence. "I study myself," he says,
"more than any other subject. This is my metaphysic,
this my natural philosophy;" — he might have added,
" this my virtue, this my religion." He quotes abun-
dantly from the old pagan philosophers, and occasion-
ally from other authors, sacred or profane, now yield-
ing to this, and now to that by turns, at one time appa-
rently accepting, at another rejecting the whole, and
of course, falling into all sorts of strange notions and
extravagances. " The writings of the best authors
among the ancients," he tells us, " being full and solid,

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE. 61

tempt and carry me which way ahnost they will. He
that I am reading seems always to have the most force ;
and I find that every one in tm'n has reason, though
they contradict one another." He details all sorts of
trifles and gossiping stories, indulges in the grossest
license of description, falls foul of all opinions, sacred
and profane, hunts up all singular, outlandish, and even
indecent sayings, all monstrous fancies and follies, and
while aiming to promote virtue, sweeps away the foun-
dations of reason and religion. He is no Atheist, in
his own view, far from it ; he is not even an Infidel
and a heretic : he seems even religious at times, and
strives with all his might, so he seems to think, to pro-
mote the integrity and happiness of his fellow-men. In
defending the work of the Spanish Raymond de Se-
bonde, half philosopher and half monk, who professed
to vindicate the Christian religion, by demolishing all
reason and common sense, Montaigne becomes almost
devout, and one would think, for a few pages, that he
was one of the best Christians imaginable; but reading
on, he finds him extinguishing the last hope of the
world, by complimenting it out of the realms of reason,
and proving men to be no better or higher, either in
body, soul, or state, than parrots or monkeys. On one
page he seems to glorify virtue, on another vice; not,
indeed, vice in the abstract, or vice as he understood
it, that is, vice in its absolute and grosser forms, but
what common sense and the word of God plainly de-
nounce as vice. Now he exalts faith to heaven, and
anon tramples it under the foot of doubt. On this page
reason is everything, on the next nothing. Here sobri-
ety, chastity, and self-denial are extolled as virtues; there
drunkenness, sensujjlitv, and self-indulgence receive an

62 vinet's miscellanies.

ample and enthusiastic apology ! Indeed, if the arch-
demon himself had written a book, not a bold, vicious
book, which every one would throw away with con-
tempt, but a fair, honest, brave sort of a book, which
sentlemen and even ladies would read with a relish, he
could not have taken a more effectual means than
Montaigne has unwittingly done, to break down the
barriers of religion and virtue. The extreme popularity
of Montaigne's Essays among all circles in France,
may account in part for the spirit of levity, licentious-
ness, and doubt which seems inseparable from that
people. Seventy-five editions of the book have been
published in Europe, but the greater part in France,
and have been circulated especially " among courtiers,
soldiers, princes, and men of wit and generosity."

The spirit of his great motto. Que scais-je ? What
know I? which he wrote under his name, while over it
he drew a pair of emblematic scales, runs through his
book, and pervades his whole life. That he was an
original and vigorous thinker, and has said some admi-
rable things which deserve the attention of thinkers, no
one can doubt ; but he is never profound, never con-
sistent, and though true, strikingly true in parts, he is
false, absolutely false as a whole. " The radical fault
of his understanding," says Dugald Stewart, "consisted
in an incapacity of forming, on disputable points, those
decided and fixed opinions, which can alone impart
either force or consistency to intellectual character."
In a word he was a sceptic, not, however, a sceptic
who merely considers and examines before he believes
or teaches, not such a sceptic as the lofty and ethereal
Pascal, who, while he doubts of man, believes in God,
and finds there the highest union of reason and faith,

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE. 63

#

but a simple and incorrigible doubter, a doubter from
the beginning to the end of life, with some prudential
maxims, but no fixed and immutable principles, no
clear and well-grounded hopes. He is not positively
an infidel, at least not consciously so, but a sceptic such
as we find described in a work of the age to which
Montaigne belonged, and drawn doubtless from life, by
Bishop Earle, entitled " Microcosmography, or a Piece
of the World Discovered in Essays and Characters."
Indeed, if the picture had been presented to Montaigne,
as has been shrewdly conjectured, he must himself have
acknowledged the likeness. " A Skeptick in religion
is one that hangs in the balance with all sorts of opin-
ions ; whereof not none but stirs him, and none sways
him. A man guiltier of credulity than he is taken to
be ; for it is out of his belief of. everything that he be-
lieves nothino". Each relimon scares him from its
contrary, none persuades him to itself He would be
wholly a Christian, but that he is something of an
Atheist ; and wholly an Atheist, but that he is partly a
Christian ; and a perfect Heretick, but that there are
so many to distract him. He finds reason in all opin-
ions, ti'uth in none ; indeed the least reason perplexes
him, and the best will not satisfv him. He finds doubts
and scruples better than resolves them, and is always
too hard for himself.'''^

Some call this " a position of equilibrium," highly
philosophical and becoming; and under the plausible
conceit, justify all the errors and aberrations of Mon-
taigne. But, alas ! what sight can be more painful and
humiliating, than that of an old man like Montaigne,

* Quoted in Stewart's Preliminary Dissertations on the History of
Speculative Pliiln^iopliy. p. 124.

64 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

thus doubting, on the verge of eternity, poising, as best
he can, his palsied Hmbs on the edge of the topphng
precipice, ready to take the last leap in the dark, or '• to
shoot the gulf," as Emerson calls it, with little hope
of finding anything beyond, but the deeper abyss of
eternal extinction ? Surely there is something inex-
pressibly mournful, as well as " farcical" in such a life,
as Montaigne's American eulogist seems to suspect, and
no man can justify it by saying, as he does, " Let it lie
at fate's and nature's door."

Montaigne tells us that he married a wife, belonging
to the church, and did many other things equally im-
portant, not because he chose to do them, but because
it was " the custom." At the hour of death, he acted
upon his old principle of habit and of doubt. He died,
of a painful disease, in 1592, in the sixtieth year of his
life. He caused the mass to be celebrated in his cham-
ber. At the elevation of the host, he raised himself
upon his bed to adore it, ''pour V adorer," but imme-
diately fell back, and expired.

We have said, and Yinet has said, that Montaigne
had no God ; that, in fact, he was a materialist, perhaps
a pantheist and fatalist, though, doubtless, of all the no-
tions involved in these systems he had his doubts. But
if he had any theory of the Universe at all, it approach-
ed the most nearly to fatalism. Hence he says. Essays,
chap. I2th : •' All this I have said," namely, that men
are in no respects superior, in body or in soul, to the
low^er animals, " to prove this resemblance there is in
human things, and to bring us back and join us to the
crowd. We are neither above nor below the rest.
All that is under heaven (says the wise man) is subject
to one law and one fortune.

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE. 65

All things remain

Bound and entangled in one fatal chain. — Lucretius.

There is some difference ; there are several ranks
and degrees, but it is under the aspect of one and the
same nature ;

All things arising from their proper cause

Remain distinct and follow nature's laws. — Lucretius."

And so he goes on to show that all things are fated ;
that men and animals alike are bound by a resistless
necessity ; and that, in this respect, man has no pre-emi-
nence over the beast ; concludes, that it is best it should
be so, and exhorts himself and others to acquiescence
and submission.

Of course, such a man could have no morality, prop-
erly speaking, and little or no hope beyond death. It
is singular, however, to see how death haunts him, and
how much he talks about it. Indeed, his essavs are full
of it. He recurs to the subject again and again ; and
though he pretends to be reconciled to the thing itself,
nay, to be on famihar terms with it, having been nearly
killed on one occasion — an incident which he de-
scribes with great minuteness, (as if he would penetrate
the fearful mystery,) and compares it again and again
to sleeping and fainting — it is quite evident that it is
the one great evil which he cannot avoid. Stoic and
Epicurean by turns, he now braces himself up against
it, as something inevitable, mustering all his resources
for the dread encounter; and then again, affecting to
despise it, speaking of it as something absolutely pleas-
ant, or at least bearable, and using all the means in his
power to make the encounter, if not agreeable, yet not
absolutely overwhelming. But of Christian hope or

66 vinet's miscellanies.

consolation he makes no mention. He offers no prayer,
no plea, before the mercy-seat ; says nothing of that
Divine Saviour, who has conquered death, and bereft it
of its sting, and not a word of that glorious home, where
all the holy are reunited in eternal bonds. In a word,
he speaks of the subject as any old Pagan might be sup-
posed to speak of it, who has never heard of the way of
life, and who seriously doubts the immortality of the
soul.

After stating that he was always prepared for death,
that is, that in his travels, he always carried about with
him certain material conveniences which might assist
him in his last hours, he adds : " To conclude the ac-
count of my frail humors, I do confess, that in my
travels, I seldom come to my quarters, but it runs in
my mind whether I could like to be sick, and die there.
I wish to be lodged in some private part of the house,
remote from all noise and nastiness, not smoky nor
close. I aim to soothe death by these frivolous circum-
stances, or rather to rid myself of all other incum-
brances, that I may have nothing to do but to wait for
an event which will be enough to weigh me down
without any other load." He then proceeds to specify
various forms of death, and the one he would prefer ;
and says, " It is but a moment, 'tis true, but withal a
moment of such weight, that I would willingly give
many days of my life to shoot the gulf in my own way.
* * # Might not one even render it pleasant, as they
did who were companions in death with Anthony and
Cleopatra ? I set aside the severe and exemplary efforts
produced by philosophy and religion. But amongst
men of low rank, such as a Petronius and a Tigilli-
nus, at Rome, there have been found men condemned

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE. 67

to dispatch themselves, who have, as it were, lulled
death to sleep, with the delicacy of their preparations ;
they have made it slip and steal away, even in the
height of their accustomed diversions, amongst harlots
and good fellows. There is not a word of consolation,
no mention of making a will, no ambitious affectation of
constancy, no talk of their future state, amongst sports,
feasts, wit, and mirth, table-talk, music, and amorous
verses. Is it not possible for us to imitate this resolu-
tion, in a more decent way ? Since there are deaths fit
for fools, and fit for wise, let us find out such as are fit
for those who are betwixt both.'' Book III., ch. 9.

In these remarks, we have been insensiblv drawn
further than we intended ; and yet we are tempted to
say a few words more ; for Montaigne, in his essential
characteristics, has recently been reproduced in Ameri-
ca. Two hundred and sixtv years after his death, he
reappears once more in Ralph Waldo Emerson, who, in
his general disposition and turn of mind, may be justly
termed the American Montaigne. His works, with
slight exceptions pertaining to form and degree, are an
echo of those of his French prototype, with perhaps a
louder and sweeter tone, mingled with a peculiar, but
vigorous New England twang. There are differences
— perhaps considerable ones ; for Emerson is a more
thorough and consistent sceptic, who knows himself in
this respect completely, and makes no pretensions to
faith in any creed or church, whether Catholic or Protest-
ant. He has also more depth and refinement, and, unlike
Montaigne, who is materialistic in his tendencies, Emer-
son is ideal and imaginative, a worshipper of beauty,
and what is singular, at first sight, a devout adorer, not
only of nature, but of himself Montaigne never rose

68 vinet's miscellanies.

to sucn a strain. He had a comfortable opinion of
himself, but, upon the whole, never fell down to worship
his own image. Yet both constitute their own God,
and depend for guidance and blessing exclusively upon
their personal impulses. Neither have faith, except in
themselves ; and both give utterance to the heartiest
contempt of all other faiths. Emerson, it may be said,
has faith in the infinite, in the over-soul, as he calls it,
but it is the infinite as it flows and flashes in his own
native energies and tendencies. The style of Emerson,
though unlike that of Montaigne in several particulars,
wonderfully resembles it in others. Indeed, it seems
the utterance of the same man, somewhat polished, and
in a higher and more rhythmic strain. It has the same
honest, homely freedom, the same rapidity and force,
the same sudden and striking turns, the same quaint
and racy vigor, the same peculiar and lively ring.
The quotations are somewhat similar, and made after
the same fashion — nay, many of the thoughts and
expressions are precisely alike. Indeed, you see
Montaigne and Emerson on almost every page — the
one in the homely garb of the old Gascon gentle
man, the other in the pomp and splendor of modern
rhetoric.

But upon this subject we need not argue or specu-
late. Emerson has himself confessed, in general terms,
the family likeness and sympathy. The essays of Mon-
taigne from early years have been his favorite study ;
they seem to himself the utterance of his own secret
heart. In his article on Montaigne, in his " Represent-
ative Men," he says : " And yet since the personal re-
gard which I entertain for Montaigne may be unduly
great, I will, under the shield of this prince of egotists,

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE. 69

offer, as an apology for electing him as the representa-
tive of scepticism, a word or two to explain how my
love began and grew for this admirable gossip. A sin-
gle odd volume of Cotton's translation of the Essays
remained to me from my father's library, when a boy.
It lay long neglected until after many years, when I was
newly escaped from college, I read the book and pro-
cured the remaining volumes. I remember the delight
and wonder in which I lived with it. It seemed to me
as if I had myself icritteji the book in some former life,
so sincerely it spoke to my thoughts and experienced*^
No wonder, for Emerson is a genius, unddoes not pray.
" The dull pray," he says, *• the geniuses are light mock-
ers." Montaigne doubts, doubts everything in its turn.
So, also, Emerson doubts. *' Knowledge," he affirms,
"is the knowing that w^e cannot know." " Beliefs," he
adds, " appear to be structural ; and as soon as each
man attains the poise and vivacity which allow the
whole machinery to play, he will not need extreme ex-
amples, but will alternate all beliefs in his own life."
He beheves, indeed, in " the natural and moral economy,"
in " absolute truth and virtue." Good, very good ! so
far as it goes ; nothing could be better. In fact, it is
fundamental ; but what is it ? Is devotion one with
" the falling leaf and the blowing clover ?" " All
things," says Emerson, are " identical," the " one and
the many" — but the one is in the many, and all men
and animals are on their way to glory ! Sin is " defect,"
sin is only something " less ;" and virtue is acting " ac-
cording to one's constitution." God is in all, as instinct,
as intellect, as intuition ; God is the all, and therefore
all things, good and bad, are fated. Beliefs are " struc-

* Representative men, p. 163.

70 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

tural" a wise man runs through them all, and lands in
what ? In the absolute, the inevitable, the eternal.
Believe what he will, nay, believe nothing, " all are at
last contained in the Eternal Cause." " God is a sub-
stance, and his method illusion !" And thus,

" If our bark sink, 'tis only to a deeper sea."

" Belief," says Emerson, " consists in accepting the af-
firmations of the soul ; unbelief in denying them. " Pret-
ty comprehensive this ; but whose soul ? My soul,
your soul, any soul — what we affirm is the truth, noth-
ing more, nothing less. Belief then, like virtue, is ''con-
stitutional." I cannot accept your faith, you cannot
accept mine. We must take w^hat nature gives us.
Each man must have a revelation of his own ; nay, he
is his own revelation. There can be no Bible, then,
from God, no special revelation, no infallible creed.
Christianity may be great and good, but there is some-
thing greater and better. In a word, we are (Emerson
and those who hold with him might say) our own reli-
gion and our own God. The Infinite speaks in us, lives
in us, acts in us, whatever we are, and whatever we
do ! And this infinite is little better than the Chinese
sage's " vast flowing vigor." Says Emerson, emphat-
ically, " Fortune, Minerva, Muse, Holy Ghost, — these
are quaint names, too narrow to cover this unbounded
substance. The baffled intellect must still kneel before
this cause which refuses to be named — ineffable cause,
which every fine genius has essayed to represent by
some emphatic symbol, as Thales by water, Anaximenes
by air, Anaxagoras by (nous) thought, Zoroaster by
fire, Jesus and the moderns by love ; and the metaphor

* Representative Men, p. 216.

2*

SKETCH OF iMONTAIGNE. 71

of each becomes a national religion. The Chinese
Mencius has not been the least successful in his gener-
alization. ' I fully understand language,' he said, ' and
nourish well my vast flowing vigor.' 'I beg to ask
what you call vast flowing vigor ?' said his companion.
' The explanation,' replied Mencius, ' is difficult. This
vigor is supremely great, and in the highest degree un-
bending. Nourish it correctly, and do it no injury, and
it will fill up the vacancy between heaven and earth.
This vigor accords with and assists justice and reason,
and leaves no hunger.' In our more correct writing
we give to this generalization the name of Being, and
therefore confess that we have arrived as far as we
can go. Suffice it for the joy of the universe, that we
have not arrived at a wall, but at interminable oceans."*
Interminable oceans, vast flowing vigor, fire, air, water,
thought, love, being, a boundless, inefl^able, nameless,
ever-flowing abyss, and w^e the waves — something grand
in all this — but where is God, the personal God, the Fa-
ther of spirits, the God who hears prayer, who forgives
sin, who regenerates the soul ?

Said we not well, that Emerson, like Montaigne, has
no God, in the proper sense of the term ? To him God
is " the generalization" of the intellect, the ever-present
" Ideal" — substance, being, unity, " that unity, that over-
soul, within which every man's particular being is con-
tained and made one with all other." " We live in
succession, in division, in parts, in particles. Meantime,
within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence;
the universal beauty, to which every part and particle
is equally related ; the eternal One. f Perfect andeter-

* Emerson's Essays, 2 Series, pp. '79, 80.
f Essays, 1 Series, p. 245.

72 vinet's miscellanies.

nal identity here. If God is personal, he is personal
only in man. He comes to consciousness only in man,
as Hegel, Emerson's master in metaphysics, teaches.
Hence om' author adds : " And this deep power in which
we exist, and whose beatitude is all accessible to us, is
not only self-sufficing and perfect in every hour, but
the act of seeing and the thing seen, the seer and the
spectacle, the subject and the object, are one."* Of course
" before the revelations of the soul, Time, Space, Na-
ture, sink away." God is only a " common nature,"
**all mind is one," "that third party, that common na-
ture, is not social; it is impersonal ; is God^-f And
thus, " the simplest person who in his integrity worships
God, becomes God!'\X

Of course Emerson, in such a case, like Montaigne
under the influence of materiaHsm or fatalism, can have
no morality or virtue. It can be nothing more than his
peculiar temperament, having no basis, no sanction or
law. " That which I call right or goodness is the choice
of my constitution ; and that which I call heaven, and
inwardly aspire after, is the state or circumstance de-
sirable to my constitution." §

Sin is unknown to such a system. It is simply " de-
fect," or something " less," as Emerson frequently con-
fesses, and will soon be swallowed up in the boundless
tides of being. There can be no reward, and no pun-
ishment, no salvation, at least no perdition. All, good
and bad, whether they worship in churches, or sin in
brothels, are on their way to glory. On this point,
startling as it may seem, Emerson does not blench for
an instant. " Evil," says he, " according to the old phi-

* Essays, 1 Series p. 245. + Ibid. pp. 249, 252.

X Ibid. p. 265. § Ibid. p. 126.

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE. 73

losophers, is good in the making. * * # * To
what a painful perversion had Gothic theology arrived
that Swedenborg admitted no conversion for evil spirits !
But the divine effort is never relaxed ; the carrion in
the sun will convert itself to grass and flowers ; and
man, though in brothels or jails, or on gibbets, is on his
way to all that is good and true.''* In a word, good and
evil, in their essential natures, are indifferent. The bad
changes into the good. God hates the one no more than
the other. Like the Indian god whose words Emerson
quotes with approbation, he may say : " I am the same to
all mankind. There is not one who is worthy of my love
or hatred. Thev who serve me with adoration, — I am
in them, and they in me. If one whose ways are alto-
gether evil serve me alone, he is as respectable as the
just man ; he is altogether well employed ; he soon be-
cometh of a virtuous spirit, and obtaineth eternal hap-
piness."f

Finally, in such a system, there can be no devotion,
no piety, no prayer. " Men's prayers," says Emerson,
" are a disease of the will." " Prayer for a private end,
is meanness and theft." " As soon as a man is one with
God, he will not beg," — pray. J

Nor will he repent. " Another kind of false prayers
are our regrets." And why should a man repent, who
is one with God, who is God ? He may change for the
better ; but he has nothing to regret, nothing to fear.
Demons and wicked men need only " self-reliance," to
become as the angels of light. They, too, have nothing
to regret, nothing to fear. For " the same fire, vital,
consecrating, celestial, burns until it shall dissolve all

* Representative Men, p. 138. f Ibid, p. 139.

X Essays, 1 Series, pp. 68 69.

74 vinet's miscellanies.

things into the waves and surges of an ocean of
light."*

Emerson has a fine essay on Prudence, and doubtless,
like his friend Montaigne, he is in most things a prudent
man. He seems to possess a free, joyous spirit — ^judg-
ing simply from his works ; but alas ! these are proba-
bly but a poor expression of the man. He seems to
have no fear of death, and exults in the prospect of fall-
ing back into the boundless ocean of being ! He claps
his hands, and shouts with infantine glee, in the pres-
ence of the vast, ever-flowing over-soul. To him the
past is nothing, the future nothing, the present "always
present," and always joyful, everything! He seems
content to live, content to die. But all this may be
surface, at the best, poetry, or philosophic cant, and be-
neath these joyous waves of the upper spirit, there may
be, even in Emerson's soul terrible chasms of doubt and
fear, opening into unutterable and appalling depths be-
low. Be this however as it may, nay, granting that he
has good health, and a happy constitution, the gift
of genius, and the gift of joy, his system of rehgion
and morals is utterly baseless and barren ; and such
a man is just as likely to act "from the devil," as from
God ; from vice as from virtue. " I remember," says
he, " an answer which, when quite young, I was
prompted to make to a valued adviser, who was wont
to importune me with the dear old doctrines of the
church. On my saying, ' What have I to do with the
sacredness of traditions, if I live wholly from within ?'
my friend suggested, — ' But these impulses may be
from below, not from above !' I replied, ' They do not
seem to me to be such ; hut if I am the devil's child, I

* Essays, 1 Series, p. 259.

SKETCH OF MONTAIGNE. 75

will then live from the devil.^ No law can be sacred to
me, but that of my own nature. Good and bad are
but names very readily transferable to that or this ; the
only right is what is after my constitution, the only
wrong what is against it.''*

Ah me, how true it is, as recorded by the pen of in-
spiration, " that there is a way which seemeth right unto
a man, but the end thereof are the w^ays of death." For
here is a theory, vaunted as the very perfection of
beauty and power, without a God, without a Saviour,
without a morality, without a heaven, — a theory, which
makes man his own God, his own law, his own morality,
his own heaven, — a theory, the final result of w^hich
must be universal atheism, or at the best universal doubt.
It is, however, the natural, the inevitable result of aban-
doning an authoritative revelation, and above all of re-
jecting that great central truth, the incarnation of Je-
hovah in the person of Jesus Christ, where alone we
find the personal God, the Father, the friend, the Sav-
iour of man.

* Essays, 1 Series, p. 44.

MAN CREATED FOR GOD.

(from *' LA MANIFESTATION DES CONVICTIONS RELIGIEUSES.")

-^

Man cannot be his own end, nor that of any other
creature in the universe. All things have been created
for one another, according to the law of a progression,
of which man is the last term. If he would seek a
higher relation, he must seek it in God. To seek it in
himself would be to make himself his own God ; to
seek it in anything beneath God is impossible. No in-
termediate beings can stand in such a relation to him,
for their nature is analogous to his own, and their most
excellent faculties exist in vain if they have not God
for their object. We do not mean, by this assertion,
to deny all immediate relation of the universe to God.
Nevertheless, the direct relation of the Father of spirits
is with spirits ; matter exists only as the form, the ob-
ject or instrument of mind ; mind is first, and matter
can be conceived of only in reference to mind ; mind,
then, in the light of the material universe, has an abso-
lute existence : everything exists for it, and it exists for
God ; and man, the only spiritual being, the only per-
sonal agent on the earth, in the midst of the immense
diversity of things animate and inanimate, man is the
spirit, as it were, of this vast body ; he completes in

MAN CREATED FOR GOD. 77

himself all its beings and relations, all converge to him
and through him towards their great first Cause.

Either we are our own end, and this is the hypothesis
of Atheism ; or our existence is without an end, which
is contrary to reason ; or finally, God is our end. We
exist for him ; but what does this imply ? Must this
remain in the region of abstract ideas, and never be-
come an embodied fact ? Ought it not to be realized ;
but how should such an idea be realized, in view of the
enormous disproportion and distance there is between
us and God ? In this aspect of the matter, the whole
universe, comprising the aggregate of immaterial beings^
would be an absurdity, since, between the most excellent
of them and their Creator, the disproportion is infinite.
But neither this nor any other circumstance can eiiace
the law written on our nature by the divine hand.
Every being gravitates to its principle, every created
spirit gravitates towards the uncreated Spirit. Every
principle tends to realize itself in facts ; and conse-
quently the created spirit must regulate its life by the
uncreated Spirit. If we say these natural tendencies
fall short of their object, we must believe that they are
not natural ; and to be satisfied that this effort at sub-
mission and dependence is only a leap in the dark, a
mere phantom, a solemn mockery, or at the best a mere
gratification of our internal logic, we must understand
better than we do now the relations of the Creator with
the creation ; we must be able to prove that there is
no fundamental force in these demonstrations of the
spiritual creature ; that their presence or their absence
reckons for nothing in the system of the universe, and
that, being simple modifications of our internal exist-
ence, conduce nothing to the existence or maintenance

78 vinet's miscellanies.

of order. Reasoning thus, all the facts and phenomena
of moral order must be regarded as mere appearances,
and the entire combination of facts as a phantasmago-
ria ; so that what is real for our senses would alone be
real to God.

Such an inference, in our opinion, would be anything
but bold ; it would be timid and base. Sapere aiide.
Dare to infer from the spiritual nature of man his des-
tiny and his duty ; and when told of the glory of God
as the end of your existence, recoil not at the ex-
pression, knowing well that any other by which you
might replace it, would be no more intelligible or less
figurative ; and that, in fact, were there nothing real
but that which could be named, we must deny to our-
selves the highest, the most essential realities. Nothing
can be more just or more rational in the view of man
than this expression, the glory of God. Yes : if God
be God, if man be man, the glory of God is the great
end of man. Man is created to render glory to God ;
his speech, his life, his thought unite to glorify God ;
all that he does in another spirit is labor lost, movement
without progress, and an utter waste of life.

Trembling I approach this vast abyss. To speak of
what God is, of the mode of his existence, as if such
existence could have, a mode, is little less than profana-
tion. Let me put my hand upon my month, and pros-
trate myself in the dust, O my God, when I speak of
thee ! Have respect to my desire ; for I wish to glorify
thee. Permit me to name thee, and keep me from
naming thee in vain. Deign to watch over my words,
and let none escape my lips but such as honor thee.

" Thou art sufficient to thyself, O thou who compre-
hendest all within thyself! Thy glory comes not from

MAN CREATED FOR GOD. 79

without' ; for there is nothing without thee : thy glory
is not, Hke ours, derived from the opinion of others ;
for to constitute our glory, such opinion must be of
value in our eyes, and its influence acknowledged by
us ; but what opinion can have value or influence in
thy sight, Thou, who art the source of truth, and from
whom proceeds all that is true in us ! The contempla-
tion of thyself suffices thee ; thy glory springs from
thine own nature. Immutable as thy being, it can
neither be diminished nor augmented. For thy glory
is in what thou art, in thy power ever infinite, in thy
wisdom ever perfect, in thy goodness ever entire. Let
the beings whom thou hast created attempt to will what
thou hast not willed, and they but ruin themselves,
without ever tarnishing thy glory or thy felicity. By
refusing to glorify thee, they but refuse thee thine own,
that which was not theirs either to give or to withhold
from thee. Yet they have dared to refuse what was
their duty to yield ; though to have promoted thy glory
would have brought honor upon themselves, and secured
their true happiness. Their homage, nothing to thee,
everything to them, is at once their highest interest,
their most solemn obligation. Mirror of the eternal
sun, they add nothing to thy splendor, for their radi-
ance is only thine ; yet they are not the less bound to
reflect its light, and thus by multiplying its rays, to re-
produce in each of their souls, its entire image !

Hadst thou restricted the race to a single individual,
his works alone would have praised thee ; his mute of-
fering would have been understood and accepted by
thee ; but in the multiplication of the race thou hast laid
upon man a new obligation, or rather thou hast added
to this obligation a new form of expression. The indi-

80 vinet's miscellanies.

vidual man would never have felt the necessity of
praising thee by his works, if when placed in society
among his fellows he felt no necessity of praising thee
with his lips. In this thou imposest upon him no new
duty ; if he fulfil it not with alacrity it is evidence that
he would never have obeyed thee. The sight of the
first individual of his species should have drawn from
him all the homage which before had been confined to
his own breast. If thy glory were dear to him he could
not but seek to reflect and multiply its beams ; above
all if he felt that thou hadst revealed thyself to him, if
he possessed religious convictions (for it is impossible,
O God, that thou shouldst not appear more and more
adorable in proportion as thou revealest thyself), he
would have felt himself constrained for thy glory to de-
clare all he knew of thee ; the dimmest discovery of thy-
self suffices for thy glory, and if thou deignest to speak
to man, it cannot be in vain, it cannot but add much to
the eternal reasons which he has to praise and bless
thee. The fact that thou hast condescended to hold
converse with him, this single fact above all else speaks
volumes to man, and discovers to him with what love
thou regardest him, and of what estimation he is in thine
eyes !

This, it appears to us, is what conscience and nature
alike impel us to say to God, and with such force, that
if amongst human religions, there be upon the earth
one religion from God, it ought to abound and super-
abound in the acknowledgment of the duty we are
enforcing. The glory of God ought to be the principle
and end of all precepts, the source and motive of all ac-
tions, the grace and dignity of all words. Such a reli-
gion ought to bring our whole nature into the service of

MAN CREATED FOR GOD. 81

the glory of God, and should address us thus : " Ye are
not your own" — " Glorify God in your bodies and in your
spirits which are his." Such a religion ought to make the
fulfilment of this duty the great end of our life, and say
to us, " Ye have been called to show forth the praises of
him who hath called you out of darkness into his mar-
vellous light." Such a religion ought to make the glory
of God the motive of all the good we do, and to recog-
nize as good nothing but what springs from such a
source ; then will it say to us, " Let your light so shine
before men, that they may see your good works, and
glorify your Father who is in heaven." Such a religion
demands that the glory of God should enter into the
minutest details of our existence, and make everything
conducive to it. " Whether ve eat or drink, or what-
soever ye do, do all to the glory of God." Such a re-
ligion requires from us the most frank and explicit con-
fession of our faith ; it will expressly attach to such
confession the blessing of heaven ; and although it does
not assure an entrance into the kingdom of heaven to
all who cry " Lord ! Lord !" it will admit of nothing in
exchange or expiation for an ungrateful silence, and wall
declare without reserve, that whosoever on earth shall
have denied his Master, shall be denied by him in the
presence of the angels. Finally, such a religion will re-
pudiate all dissimulation of doctrines, will honor heroic
testimony, will bless the martyr, and of all religions,
alone will transform its disciples and preachers, and es-
tablish in its bosom an universal priesthood.

THE IDEA OF THE INFINITE

(from " LA MANIFESTATION DES CONVICTIONS RELIGIEUSES.")

Although the pursuit of wealth and glory, the wor-
ship of reason and of the arts, or some social passion
seem to absorb the minds of men and satisfy the cra-
vings of the soul — the idea of the Infinite, being that by
which all the ideas of the finite are explained and made
legitimate — the idea of the Infinite, apart from which
and without which man can account for nothing, and for
which, therefore, he seeks in every direction — this idea
is constantly lurking in the heart of the community,
taking there the name of God or of the gods, and thus
creating or preserving religion. Willing or unwilling,
man is constrained to concern himself with this great
subject ; the most indifferent yield to it in silence ;
laws provide for its maintenance ; the commonwealth
incorporates itself with it ; in a word, the whole consti-
tution of human affairs is organized around the idea of
God. All the great movements of public life sanction
this idea. All great questions, spontaneously or of ne-
cessity, are founded upon it. And in proportion as
grave circumstances elicit momentous problems, the so-
lutions sought insensibly lead the minds of men to the
source whence all social errors or all social truths neces-

THE IDEA OF THE INFINITE. 83

sarily spring. That which obviously lies at the basis
of the life of the community would appear also the fit-
ting basis of the life of each individual. Not every day,
but once for all, this idea would seem to demand of ev-
ery one an account of his belief, in order that it may be
known what he really is ; until this is done he is a living
enigma, a nameless being, at the moment he names him-
self, and society imagines that it knows him. If we
take at hazard any period of history, this phenomenon
will be less striking, but if we take the entire annals of
man, we shall see that the first desire of the human
breast, a desire which nothing can divert or destroy, is
to be enlightened on this subject, both with reference to
ourselves and others. The entire fife of man is mirrored
in religion, the whole of religion in human life ; the his-
tory of humanity is the history of its creeds ; the his-
tory of his creeds is the history of man himself. If we
take a retrospect of by-gone ages, we shall find that all
the great changes in the condition of man were coeval
with, or the result of, some great revolution in rehgious
opinion.

Who, after all this, would not conclude that the cause
we are pleading is gained in every mind ? But we
must not take for free consent the universal dominion
of a logical necessity. To how many laws does human
nature submit without loving them ? Especially is this
the case with reference to the supremacy of an abstract
truth. Long before its claims are acknowledged, it has
penetrated into the conscience, and we shall hear its
voice, slowly, perhaps, but sure of eventual triumph,
reclaiming the world to its obedience. The world will
complain, but the world will submit. Thus vanishes
the apparent contradiction. Man does not willingly

84 vinet's miscellanies.

impart to his fellow-man the secrets of his conscience,
so long, at least, as nothing in himself but conscience
demands the disclosm'e. Take the mass of mankind :
it is not true of them that common consent never per-
mits a curtain to be drawn before that interior stage on
■which an endless drama is enacted between conscience
and passion. But if resistance here prove available to
the individual, the law, however slight its influence upon
each person, and at any given moment, has its effect
upon the whole ; it rules society, and keeps the world
in awe. It compels us to consider the infinite ; forces
us to introduce the idea, if not into each act of public
and private life, into the very heart of those institutions
which regulate the affairs of man.

Away, and forever with the miserable comments of
materialism. We leave its recent disciples to treat the
infinite as a political invention ; they not perceiving
that this very invention presupposes a necessity of hu-
man nature, and that this necessity is a logical one.
Under the pretence of inventing such an idea, what do
they but copy nature, and yield the human spirit to its
tendencies, to nature and to truth ? What indeed is the
finite, if the infinite does not exist ? What is the rela-
tive, without the absolute ? Where is reason, where is
certainty upon any subject, where is good sense, with-
out this fundamental idea ? Who then will compre-
hend matter without spirit, who explain the material
infinite without the spiritual infinite ? That such
ideas should ever have been treated as paradoxical is
one of the most striking proofs of the fall, for they are
the first postulate of every thought, the first reason of
our reasjgn. We are more certain of spirit, than of
matter, of the infinite than the finite. This instinct-

THE IDEA OF THE INFINITE. 85

ive conviction, enfeebled it may be in some of the
members of the human family, and in some ap-
parently destroyed, this intuition of the divine as the
explanation of the human, is found in the mass of hu-
manity ; this great truth is discovered there, just as the
waters of a lake present to view that fine tint of azure
which cannot be seen in any of the drops of the liquid
mass.

Let us interrogate this humanity, in which man, in-
complete, and fragmentary in each individual, again finds
himself complete, at least with reference to all the at-
tributes left to him by the fall. Its replies will have
this double effect : they will alike teach us what in the
eyes of humanity entire, the religious question really is ;
and what in a matter of such moment, is the necessity
and importance of a free profession. The transition
from the one idea to the other, is inevitable.

Looking only on the surface of human affairs, one
would not say, that the question of religion, in a fixed
or positive form, is everywhere present, or that the
whole of life is its embodiment ; but upon closer ex-
amination we shall find that the vulgar empiricism
which seems to be the only philosophy of the masses
envelops another philosophy. Again, we must not
stop at the individual, but view man in his generic
character ; then we shall acknowledge that he is not so
destitute of principles as not to feel the need of them,
and that all his opinions, all his life, are referable to
some primary ideas. Although all his wants and pas-
sions do not render a theory of the universe neces-
sary to him, nevertheless he has formed one ; this has
been, we venture to say, one of his first cares ; indeed,
he has seemed incapable of arranging his own life, be-

86 vinet's miscellanies.

fore having arranged a system of the universe.* That
he may have first shaped out his own course, and the
universe afterwards, is possible; but it would not be the
less true that he has aimed to conform his conduct to the
idea he has conceived of the universe, or things as a
whole, an aggregate in \vhich God himself is included,
if, indeed, God himself be not the centre, the meaning,
and so to speak, the essence of the whole. If man, in-
deed, has wandered in the search from the true path,
and his route has sometimes deviated into the errors of
pantheism or polytheism, — one fact remains not less
certain, namely that his life, separated from the princi-
ple of all life, the finite detached from the infinite ap-
pears to his reason a supreme absurdity, and any solu-
tion of the problem seems to him preferable to the
abandonment of all to chance. In the sphere of obli-
gation and of moral responsibility reigns the same
logical necessity. To whom are we under obligation —
to whom are we responsible ? For an answer to this
question we cannot look too high. It can belong only to
individual philosophies, or rather to those of the schools,
to attach the moral life of man to anything less vast
than the infinite, less great than God, or to some un-
known impersonal infinity. In this last attempt at so-
lution, the dominant law of our nature is still apparent,
which is evermore the craving for the infinite. But,
while a few subtile spirits cut their own particular path-
way, the majority of mankind better inspired, turns it-
self openly towards the personal infinity, towards God,

* That is, some fundamental principles to account for his own exist-
ence, and that of the universe around him. Some ideas of cause, of
supremacy, of obligation, in a word of the infinite, and his relations to
it, lurk in his mind. — T.

THE IDEA OF THE INFINITE. 87

in whom alone they find the end, the rule, and the sanc-
tion of duty.

The prejudices of sense and the distractions of Ufe
alone conceal from us this imperative necessity, at once
rational and moral. Let any cause, for example, a pow-
erful abstraction, suddenly isolate us from the external
world, and place us, for a moment, face to face with
ourselves, by that very act it will place us face to face
with the infinite, with which our existence feels its con-
nection, as soon as inferior relations cease to be felt.
In such moments of recollection and self-communion
we feel that our true and fundamental relation is with
the infinite, that the roots of our being are imbedded
there, and that thence our existence derives its mean-
ing. Then we feel that God is the idea of ideas, the
truth of truths ; that he not only envelops our whole
existence, but penetrates its inmost recesses ; that the
thought of Him claims like Himself, the right of omni-
presence, and ought to be mingled with all the elements
and with all the successive movements in our life ; —
that that life to answer its end ought not only once for
all, but during each instant, to receive God entire ; that
He should determine and regulate every pulsation ; in
a word, that the loftiest of all ideas is also the closest to
us, that the sublime and the necessary are one, and that
God is the life of the soul.

Whatever else man may do, and whatever pretend,
he can act in no way in which his life shall not be the
index and rule of his knowledge or ignorance of eternal
things. Visibly or invisibly, either in a negative or
positive way, all his life has reference to this. Of ne-
cessity he has some principles. On the supposition that
God is or is not, or simply that God may be, such or

88 vinet's miscellanies.

such will be the man. The creed determines the char-
acter. Every one must acknowledge that the solutions
of these primary questions draw after them in the life
the gravest consequences ; that everything hangs upon
this point, that our whole being is modified and deter-
mined by it ; and that in a general but profound sense,
to know what we believe, is to know what we are.

THE ENDLESS STUDY.

PART I.

Mathematical science admits the supposition of two
lines which are ever approaching but never meet. If
it is not in our power, even with the most deHcate in-
struments, to reahze this supposition in the visible world,
may we not have the mournful advantage of finding it
in our moral existence ? St. Paul informs us that there
are those who are ever learning but never come to
the knowledge of the truth.* This statement, which in
the passage referred to is applied only to certain females,
" laden with sins, led away by divers lusts," is not, be
assured, true only of one of the sexes. Among both a
multitude of persons are evidences of its truth, a thing
strange at first sight, natural when we examine it more
narrowly, and investigate the terms which the apostle
has used.

The truth of which he speaks in this place includes at
once what we are, and what God is ; in the one case
the knowledge of our nature, of our moral condition, of
our situation in life ; in the other, the work which the

* 2 Tim. iii. 7. "Ever learning, but never able to come to the knowl-
edge of the truth."

90 vinet's miscellanies.

grace of God has accomplished for our salvation. The
truth which St. Paul has in view does not exist as truth
but in the union of these two parts. He who has the
first without the second, knows not the truth ; nay, he
who has the second, but only in the intellect, knows it
no more than the other. There are, then, two ways of
coming short of the truth : either by advancing one
half of the road and then stopping, or by advancing into
the other half, but only under the guidance of intellect.
In either case, we are to be accounted among the per-
sons of whom the apostle says, " they are always learn-
ing but never come to the knowledge of the truth."
They are ever learning, because each of these parts of
the truth is so vast, that we may call it inexhaustible.
They never come to the knowledge of the truth, because
the truth depends upon two conditions, the first of which
is wanting to the one class, the second to the other ;
the first completing the one half of the truth by its union
with the other, the second seizing the truth, not by the
intellect alone, but by the heart, by the whole man.
This distinction divides into two classes the heirs of the
same calamity, or the partakers of the same guilt. It
is to these two classes, or these two states, to which
we would successively call attention.

But let us linger a moment on this side of our sub-
ject, and glance at another class of men ; those, namely
who do not in any way know any portion of the truth ;
those who, so far from always learning, never learn at
all. How is it possible that a man should never learn
anything of man, a living being know nothing of life,
a Christian (by name) know nothing of God ? By shut-
ting against the light all the windows of the soul, by
placing at each of its gates a vigilant and sleepless sen-

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 91

tinel, under the name of business, of pleasure, or of duty ;
by not permitting itself to form a single void in its world-
ly engagements, by living, perhaps under an aspect of
seriousness, in giddiness and delirium ; by rendering it-
self insane through a cold and systematic madness ; by
making of life an eternity, of the flesh a God, of pleasure
a religion. Indeed this state of things is sometimes at-
tained even with less difficulty. If, in certain cases,
there is some system in this ignorance, because a con-
fused instinct has warned the soul, and, in advance,
made it afraid of the truth, it not unfrequently happens
that a wretched education has made ignorance the nat-
•ural atmosphere of the soul, the unchangeable dwelling
of the spirit. Prejudices imbibed from infancy and in-
cessantly fortified by example, acquire the life and en-
ergy of an instinct, by which profounder and truer
instincts are stifled before their birth, like a fire before
it bursts into flame. Persons of this description live an
earthly life without even suspecting that there is an-
other. They conceive of no higher interests than those
of time, scarcely find opportunity to notice them ; pro-
foundly asleep, they neither hear the murmurs of con-
science nor the mockeries of Satan, who does not hes-
itate to insult his victims. Their soul is dead, or they
would sometimes encounter those higher instincts with
which God has fortified our nature : they live only in
their sensations, or in the thousand objects which excite
them, in their appetites and passions, their earthly hopes
and fears. But they do not always live thus, as one
might suppose, with violent agitations of passion, but
with an air of reason and sobriety, with an order and
decorum which give them, in the estimation of the
world, the name of sober and solid men, and thus re-

92 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

move from their own minds all idea of disorder, and
inspire them, if need be, with confidence in themselves.
Thus are they utterly deceived in regard to those things
of which God only, and those who have the secret of
God, can discover the disorder and folly. For beneath
this surface, so calm to our eyes, there is a license of
evil, a madness of passion, a revel, so to speak, of all the
elements of sin which our nature conceals ; as in a
house carefully shut and abandoned, in appearance, to
the repose of the night, a thousand excesses and disorders
are indulged, the noise of which is stifled and the scan-
dal hidden by the thickness of the walls. Thus glide
through years and drop into eternity a crowd of lives'
which, from all that appears, have not, upon that rapid
descent, had a single moment to pause and reflect. God
only knows, the great day will declare it, how many
times the light was presented to their souls, how many
warnings rang in their ears, and how often, had they
not hastened to extinguish this light and suppress
these voices, they might have emerged from their illu-
sion and struck into the way of truth.

This last observation recalls us to our subject.
These warnings, multiplied during the life of many
persons, and in circumstances the most favorable, often
make themselves heard. Indeed it is surprising they
do not always make themselves heard. Even in the
most ordinary lives, it would seem that everything is
adapted to raise, by little and little, the bandage from
our eyes. It would seem that all the illusions with
which we enter life need not prevent our coming into
contact with the truth. Indeed such a thing often oc-
curs to many. This revelation or disenchantment is not
the privilege only of old age. The mournful light

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 93

sometimes breaks upon young eyes. There are times
when every one Hves more rapidly than usual, when
the old age of the soul arrives in the season of hope,
like a premature winter on verdure and flowers. Suc-
cessively one learns to estimate the world, life, and
finally himself. True, it does not belong to man, upon
these different points, to teach himself the pure truth,
the whole truth. That result, coming later, belongs
not to us ; and the knowledge of the remedy alone can
give us the full knowledge of the evil. Nevertheless,
it is true that previous to that revelation, we can, by
natural means, learn much of the world, of life, and of
ourselves. That such information, on account of the
sources from which it is derived, may not be perfectly
exact and pure I admit ; that in detail, many illusions
may be replaced by prejudices, I do not doubt ; that, in
general, such knowledge may be more negative than
positive ; that it gives us truths less than it removes
errors, is certain ; but in reducing it to its last analysis,
we must admit that it is something, that it embraces a
field sufficiently wide, and that it presents a great num-
ber of aspects. This is proved by the fact, that since
there have been moralists in the world, their aliment
has been precisely the study and description of the very
things of which we speak. Nor is the supply ever
exhausted ; it is constantly renewed ; the last comers
find something to say. Literature itself rests upon
this, or attaches itself to it ; and each of us, without
being either moralist or writer, every day nourishes
himself, without exhausting it, on this bitter substance.
In a word, as the apostle says, we are " ever learning.'*
The world, life, and ourselves, such is the triple ob-
ject of this knowledge. This order is not unnatural ;

94 vinet's miscellanies.

it is that of our disenchantment. If we open upon
life with equal confidence in these three objects, one
after another, they cease to inspire us. Before judging
life and ourselves, we judge society and the world. It
is from our fellow-creatures and our relations to them,
that, at first, we expected happiness — noble tendency
of a soul created for love, formed to unite its life with
the life of others, and seek its felicitv from the invisible
world. This hope, the first to blossom, is the first to
fade. We dreamed of perfection in the objects of our
attachment, because we were irresistibly impelled to
dream of it somewhere, and not seeking it where it
was, we were obliged to seek it where it was not. We
required, (a thing as natural as unjust,) an infinite love
which we ourselves could not offer in return, and which,
for the same reason, no one could give us. What then
is our disappointment, when instead of that complete
devotion of the heart, we meet only cool friendship,
instead of generosity scarcely justice ; when from those
attachments we nourished with such care, we see
springing hatred itself! But it does not occur to our
minds that the observations which we make on other
men, thev all make on us ; that Ave furnish occasion for
the same contempt, after being the objects of the same
illusions. Thus, we do not yet know ourselves, and
consequently do not accuse ourselves.

Beyond the circle of our personal relations, we seek,
in the past and in the present, characters whom we can
admire. We have believed that such exist. Historians
have aided our delusion ; they have seen in the distance
of ages their lineaments beautified by the effect of
perspective, softened by that uncertain light which dif-
fuses itself around antique forms. We have embraced.

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 95

as they were offered, these grand personages. A crowd
of ideal images of men and nations, of actions and
events, of characters and manners have emerged be-
fore us from the shadows of the past ; — a vision of
glory which has never lasted. Here again, to know is
to count our losses. History better studied, the past
controlled by the view of the present, has, one after
another, torn from us our idols ; we have become bet-
ter informed, that is to say, in the portrait of man, we
have seen the shadows deepening. Our ideal, as if on
wing, wanders through the void, seeking a place of
rest, for this is the law of our being, but finding none.

Nevertheless, the power of hoping, of flattering our-
selves, is not destroyed with a single blow. Many
more times we permit ourselves to be caught in the net
of appearances. Often we catch at the bait, but al-
ways with less confidence and abandonment ; till, final-
ly, taught by experience, we form to ourselves a philos-
ophy, and so agree to regard as an exception, as an un-
expected blessing, what at first claimed to be the rule.
We undeceive ourselves, as it were, in advance, so as
not afterwards to be disappointed ; we hope for nothing,
in order to have occasion to rejoice over a little. As all
this revolution of sentiment takes place gradually, it
does not produce a violent state of the soul ; that
which, included in a description of a few lines, resem-
bles despair, spread over a number of years, is only a
gentle cooling of our hopes. The majority of men
scarce perceive the change that is wrought in them ;
they always appear to have thought the same ; no suf-
fering sufiiciently acute, has accompanied the loss of
their illusions. They call it a spirit calmed, a youth
passed away, the sober privilege of old age. Indeed,

96 vinet's miscellanies.

they almost applaud, almost congratulate themselves on
the attainment. Yet there are persons to whom cir-
cumstances render such a revolution exceedingly pain-
ful. Indignation is incessantly rising in their bosom,
and expressing itself in words and looks. A bitter re-
sentment becomes the temper of the soul. They are
wrong in their bitterness, as the former in their resig-
nation. If we ought not to felicitate ourselves on such
misconceptions, neither ought we to be irritated on
their account. What right have we to be irritated at
that, in other men, which exists in ourselves ? Grief,
not anger, is appropriate here. But in that first period
of our experience, what we know least is ourselves ; and
we have one more disenchantment to experience, before
we reach that final one.

In this judgment of mankind, life is judged in ad-
vance. When the lustre with which we have embel-
lished our species is dissipated, when it is no longer in
the moral world, but in space and in time, that we have
to find the value of life, it appears that the question it-
self is resolved by the manner in which it is put. It
appears, when one is reduced to ask of life, What hast
thou to give me in years, in riches, in glory, in pleasure?
that the answer is almost a matter of indifference. But
who looks at things from a position so elevated ? In
the case of a great number of men, no other question
has preceded this ; and those even who have begun to
demand of life a more elevated felicity, disappointed in
their expectation, after all, do not renounce what may
be called the shreds of life, or the dregs of happiness.
A sort of melancholy logic leads them to intoxicate
themselves with those dregs, in which they may lose the
remembrance of the dreams which have deceived them.

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 97

There are not wanting examples of a transition from en-
thusiasm to materiaUsm, nor are there wanting reasons
that explain how such a transition takes place. No
one voluntarily abandons his share of the banquet ;
every one washes to live, that is to say, every one
grasps at new illusions, after the loss of the first.

It might be thought, indeed, that these new illusions
would not vanish, like the first. Long after persons
have ceased to believe in humanity, they yet cleave to
pleasure, to glory, to life ; to pleasure, that is, the flesh ;
to glory, that is, the esteem of beings whom they have
ceased to esteem ; to life, that is, to a duration which
passes away. The eagerness with which these different
objects are pursued, might induce us to think that they
yet possessed our entire confidence. But here let us
make two observations.

In the first place, the question is not, whether such
eager pursuit will continue, but whether, from the com-
mencement of your career to the point which you have
reached, you have not dropped, as a runner in the ancient
games, some of the flowers which crowned your heads ;
whether you judge life now, as you did at its opening ?
The reply to that question will soon present itself.

In the second place, perseverance in the pursuit does
not prove, that faith in the objects of such pursuit has
not suffered a sad diminution. Nay more, you may
see the ardor of pursuit increasing, in the same measure
that faith diminishes. Why ? Because the soul must
be filled with something. There is a necessity of living,
and of nourishins; life, on whatever aliment we can find.
The prodigal son, accustomed to the delicacy and abun-
dance of his father's table, in his exile willingly nour-
ished himself upon the husks which the swine did eat.

o

98 vinet's miscellanies.

If the soul did not require nourishment, it would yet
need a pursuit ; and this necessity of action impels it
towards all ends at once. Undeceived, it is not cured ;
indeed, it cannot be cured ; in the day that this should
happen, it would die. It hopes as little as possible; it
has ceased to hope ; it only seeks. It is in the nature
of things, that as the soul falls, the rapidity of its fall
increases ; that while advancing in its course, and see-
ing life incessantly impoverished, it clings more eagerly
to what remains. Whence it comes to pass, that those
who are the most completely disenchanted appear to
be the least so ; and those who curse life the most bit-
terly, seem to be the most devoted to its interest.
Those who are nearest the idol, are despisers of the
idol.

Let not appearances deceive us in reference to the
fact. The truth is, in entering upon life, we count
upon it. If we are warned of its vanity, we do not the
less confide in it ; the experience of another never be-
comes our own ; the highest authority, the declara-
tions even of Divine Wisdom, cannot preserve us from
all illusion. In this order of things it may be said that,
from the very beginning, each increase of knowledge is
a disenchantment. Strange science, which consists
not in filling, but only in emptying the soul ! After this,
do not go and represent the world as a ooUection of
men disgusted. Say only, that with the exception of
a number of blind and stupid persons, (and there are
men of intelligence among these stupid ones,) all men
are more or less undeceived and disappointed ; that in
this properly consists the science of life, and, repeating
what we have already said, to " learn" is to estimate
the misery of life.

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 99

Here details are superfluous — no one needs that
I should recount his history. But a particular fact
claims our attention.

I have spoken of pleasure, of glory, of duration. Has
Kfe nothing more, nothing better than these ? Yes,
certainly, there are science and virtue — these things
also are a part of life, and their value, which on earth
is unequalled, does not seem in danger of suffering dim-
inution. Have we seen the stars of the sky grow pale ?
And shall we see the splendor of the stars of the moral
world fade away ? Science, that disinterested, divine
instinct, which attaches itself to nothing carnal, which
in itself alone reveals our august origin ! — Science,
which detaches us from the external world, separates us
from ourselves ; disengages us from the chains of matter,
and transports us from the midst of dull realities into
the pure atmosphere of the ideal! — Science, one of the
attributes of the Divinitv, one of the marks of his im-
age in man ! — I know well that it has noblj^ engrossed
entire lives. But every soul endowed with any eleva-
tion, that is, with anything of earnestness, cannot fail
in its estimate of so noble a subject, to seek a unity, a
completeness which shall be worthy of itself ; for science,
after all, is not the whole of life, it is only one of its ele-
ments. The soul must seek unity and harmony here. It
ought, so to speak, to find a head for that crown ; a ped-
estal for that statue ; a sky for that sun. Are these the
head, the life, and the soul of man ? Everywhere the
disproportion strikes us. Everywhere the dignity of
the details reveals the wretchedness of the whole : we
know not how so noble an element can have lost itself
in so mournful a chaos ; and life which already appeared
to us little in its own littleness, now appears still more

100 vinet's miscellanies.

so, in the grandeur of that very instinct, of that very
interest which it ought to contain, but which tran-
scends it. So that if we do not directly contract a
disgust for science, at least, the feeling of its being
out of place ; in a word, the impossibility of attaching
it worthily to life, astonishes, overwhelms us. How
many men of genius have been seized with a profound
sadness at this very thought ! How many, appalled by
the problems and contradictions which science suggests
in the present condition of man, in the midst of their
enthusiasm have doubted, whether it be a gift of God,
or a temptation of a demon ! How many, moreover,
seeing it corrupted by our passions, and in its turn
nourishing and irritating these passions, unfaithful as it
appears to its origin and vocation, have beheld in it one
of our direst calamities ; nay, the source of all our ca-
lamities !

" But virtue," you will say, " leave us in life the
charm of virtue, and the whole of life is saved." In
some sense, of course, it is impossible to cease con-
fiding in virtue, that is to say, in the necessity, the sanc-
tity and inviolability of duty. It is impossible for him
who has once exercised it, even in a single and isolated
instance, not to find in the impression thence derived a
proof, that virtue is a reality, the noblest of realities.
But I affirm that the more irresistible such a convic-
tion, the more insupportable to the soul its inability to
solve the difficulties which the presence of that great
idea suggests. The same theory which is required
with reference to science is also required with reference
to virtue ; so that the question recurs, to what in life does
it conform ? Will you make it conform to the welfare
of society ? This, doubtless, is one of its results ; but

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 101

it cannot be its end ; your own consciousness, and the
very notion of virtue prove this. Is it then the inte-
rest of the individual ? But what interest ? If mate-
rial or physical interest is in question, virtue consists
in sacrificing it to the first claim of duty. If internal
satisfaction, the end is noble, but it is too narrow : for un-
less that satisfaction be the approbation of our self-
love, the suffrage of which cannot be the end of virtue,
it would not suffice us. What is sometimes said of
conscience is thoughtless and vain ; in the long run its
testimony does not satisfy us ; indeed, it is of no value
unless it certify us, that a judge of whom our con-
science is only the representative, is satisfied also. We
need an approver, and that approver must be a person ;
for we are unwilling to be the servants, the friends, the
children of a mere idea ; we desire to attach ourselves
to something more vital than moral order, that is, to a
Being, to a Soul in whom our life may find an echo.
The true name of the satisfaction to which genuine virtue
aspires is glory. Shall we seek it among men ? Virtue
is tarnished bv that verv search. Shall we seek it else-
where ? That can onlv be w^th God. But let us be-
ware of confounding God with his name, of taking a
word for a being. Where is God, and where is the
road which leads to God, in order that w^e may receive
the homage of our virtuous actions ? That road is
found by the heart alone — has our heart found it ?
Does our heart rise, rise with all our life, to God ? Do
we seek the favor of God ? Do we live according to his
w^ill, and in the hope of his approbation ? In a word, does
our virtue find its issues in him ? When we have laid
our offering upon his altar, liave not our passions come
during the night, and removed it to another altar, which,

102 vinet's miscellanies.

if it is not what our conscience, alas ! is what our heart
has chosen ? Does not our virtue, after all, return, by
a circuitous path, to ourselves ? Do we not take with
the one hand what we have given with the other ? If
on the other hand, God be the first and last term of
our virtue, and his love the fire of our moral life, I
would say, that by that fact alone, life, in effect, is
saved, all illusions are replaced by the truth, all contempt
is forever banished. But, whoever cannot bear his tes-
timony that virtue has been conceived and practised by
him in such a spirit as this, is not placed beyond the com-
mon destiny ; with reference to virtue, as to everything
else, he is doomed to disappointment. Pressed by a
double necessity to recognize the reality, the sove-
reignty of virtue, but not knowing where to place
it ; not finding for it in the life any spot sufficiently
large, any basis sufficiently firm, attracted towards
virtue and repelled from it by turns ; believing in duty,
yet not believing in it; he is driven by the incessant
return of this moral oscillation, far from that glorious
dawn of life, in which nothing dimmed to his eyes, the
reality of virtue, or the certainty of its promises.

Thus even that which is greatest and truest detaches
itself, like a flower, from the crown of convictions and
hopes which encircled our youthful brow ; the disen-
chantment of virtue is added to the number of our losses,
or, if you please, to our science, and from the whole of
life, in which we trusted with such delightful assurance,
nothing entire remains.

Nay more, even if everything remained entire, we
should only feel the more keenly the grief of another
discovery, which we cannot escape. All-adorned with
these illusions, life precipitates itself towards death.

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 103

Thither it humes,'\vith a constantly increasing pace. Ev-
ery one knows, when beginning Hfe, that he cannot live
always ; but who could have expected tu live so brief
a period ? Who, at least, did not expect that years
would be equal to years? Who could have thought
that each would be shorter than the preceding, that the
velocity of time would forever increase, and without
diminishing the number of our years, would actually
reduce the length of our career ? None — no, not one ;
and so true is this, that the younger portion of my
readers w411 not credit me, with reference to this fliorht
of time ; they will not believe it until they have proved
it by experience. In a word, it is only by living that
we become undeceived with reference to life, — this illu-
sion, so necessary, is the last which leaves us.

See, then, what it is to learn. The matter is vast,
and however life may be abridged, an entire one would
not suffice for it ; should we live an age, we should ever
be learning. If you say that the logical conclusion from
all this is despair, you are perhaps right ; happily, man
does not submit his destiny to the mercy of logic. The
charm of living is great ; in the privation of all other
blessings, living is yet something ; and what otherwise
is life entirely despoiled ? Providence has been so lib-
eral to man, that man has not been able to nullify all
his gifts ; there still remain sufficient blessings to attach
us to life, which were intended to attach us to God ; we
feel ourselves impoverished rather than poor, and al-
though this very feeling may be worse than poverty it-
self, yet as we do not realize it, except feebly and at
intervals, it leaves us more happiness than most persons
imagine, a happiness which lasts so long as we are igno-
rant that the majority of our losses is our own work,

104 vinet's miscellanies.

and that we possess infinitely less than was destined
for us. But that, too, we learn at last ; and this is the
third topic of instruction which I proposed to discuss.

We begin by observing that there are two ways of
knowing ourselves, the one natural, the other I will call
supernatural : the first, limited, incomplete ; the second
going to the bottom of the subject and exhausting it ;
the first more extensive than profound, the second
boundless in every respect. From the first knowledge
to the second there is an abyss which God only can fill ;
and he fills it by making himself known to the soul ;
then it is that the soul knows itself truly ; for the secret
of its evil being found to consist in its separation from its
centre, which is God, its reunion with its centre must at
the same time be its supreme revelation as well as its
sovereign remedy. But before that divine ray falls into
its darkness, a true ray, though less vivid, may penetrate
the upper strata of its shadows ; up, therefore, to a cer-
tain point, man, reduced to natural means, to the teach-
ings of time and experience, may succeed in knowing
himself But what is the nature of this knowledge ?
Does it pass, from a deep conviction of its feebleness,
to a lofty notion of its strength ? Or do its discoveries
follow the very opposite direction ?

Who among us, arrived at mature age, (1 make an
abstraction of the influence of the Gospel,) finds himself
stronger, better, and purer than he imagined himself in
the days of his youth ? Who on the contrary does not,
with regret, remember the confidence in his own nature,
with which he entered the world ? When few passions
had taken possession of our heart, and little responsi-
bility attached to our actions, no visible object inter-
posed between us and virtue ! Virtue, in itself so beau-

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 105

tiful, appears to us in her own colors so long as we have
no interest to tarnish her image. Man, indeed, does not
hate it for itself, but for the checks it puts upon his de-
sires. If its presence brought no constraint, and its as-
pect no humiliation, he would never cease to rely upon it,
and to find it beautiful and attractive. Such is his dispo-
sition at the beginning of his career, and such the ground
of his confidence in himself He loves virtue in view
of the benefit she confers ; he confidently calculates that
such benefit will turn to his account ; for he calculates
without reference to his passions, which he does not yet
know. But these passions come ; they claim their part
in life, and that part is the whole ; passion on one side,
virtue on the other, is equally exacting, equally insatia-
ble ; but passion is a real and living being, that is, the
man himself; and virtue, why, that is an idea, until it is
united, in our soul, to the thought of God, and thus be-
comes, I do not say a passion, but the strongest, the
most dominant of all affections. In that struggle be-
tween a being and a principle, between life and an idea,
most evident it is that being and life must prevail ; and
the only revenge of the vanquished idea, is to raise in
the soul a murmur, now plaintive, now threatening,
which gradually subsides as life is prolonged. In the first
days of his moral life, what high estimate has he of the
sanctity of virtue, and the impossibility, so to speak, of
violating it ! What relish for purity, what disgust for
everything which taints it ! What astonishment at the
baseness and perversity of mankind ! What ignorance
of their ways ! what ignorance of their calculations and
aims ! what burning indignation against evil ! what
vows, what promises to combat it with his testimony, to
abash it by his example ! what certainty of remaining

5*

106 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

conqueror ! what recoil even at the thought of its touch-
ing him ! Evil, nevertheless, is already here, the ideal
is even now tarnished ; his very first experiences have
been falls ; but in that era of thoughtlessness we count
less with reference to the falls we have suffered, than
those which we are not to suffer. Happy age ! dreams
of hope ! how prompt are ye to fade away !

One after another the passions present themselves —
we resist them at first, then treat with them. In that
unequal discussion, the only thing which is ordinarily
obtained is, to simplify our defeat and shame ; that is,
to yield to one passion which takes the place of many
others incompatible with it ; we are vanquished, but it
is only by one conqueror ; we give conscience credit
for a result which is only due to necessity ; we are un-
willing to see that in ceding to this one passion the
claims of all the rest, we have in reality yielded to the
whole ! But of what value is this miserable illusion ?
We are vanquished, and we know it. We no longer
doubt our failures, and the only question is, how shall
we resign ourselves to them, how accommodate our-
selves to this new world into which we have entered
under the guidance of sin, how suffer the manners which
but lately disgusted us, how make the calculations of
interest which we never wished to make, how acclimate
ourselves in that society which we regarded with such
distant and lofty contempt ! Then must we submit to
the intercourse and familiarities of a despicable frater-
nity. Precipitated from the heights of life into the
darkness where so many have preceded us, we must see
all the dead who have gone before us lift themselves at
our approach, and cry out, " Aha ! art thou become as
one of us !" Then must we learn (O most mournful of

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 107

all experiences !) to despise ourselves ! Yes, we must
know and bear ourselves.

Self-knowledge — but how is that possessed? It is
interesting to see how. Man does not so soon take
part in his own degradation, and never resigns himself
to it entirely. At each step he takes in life, he needs
to persuade himself that he is advancing right; and
from the need of delusion, delusion itself springs, which,
impossible in reference to the whole, is possible in
reference to details. He knows himself very well in
general, but, in each particular, he is ignorant. He
despises himself with reference to the sum-total of his
actions, and yet has some ground of approbation as to
each of them. He performs each (I speak of our
ordinary actions) with a sort of conviction as to its
propriety ; he is, so to speak, conscientious in his sin,
faithful in his falsehood — a circumstance which gives
to his conduct, to his discourse a feature of amiableness
and worth, the impression of which upon others is so
much more sure as he himself has been the first to
receive it.

But will not the knowledge of ourselves, however
general it may be, at least have the effect of reconcil-
ing us to humanity and to life, when we recognize
that we partake of the feelings of the first, and that it
is ourselves who abstract from the second the greater
part of its value and beauty ? Will not the last part
of our mournful knowledge alleviate the impression of
the two first? That were just, but it is not natural.
Nothing sweet, nothing pure can spring from that
which humbles without softening us. The wrongs of
life and of society aggravate our own. The more we
are compelled to hate ourselves, the more we hate that

108 vinet's miscellanies.

which surrounds us. Our internal discontent is a gall
which spreads itself over all objects. Here we can see
how the logic of the heart overpowers that of the
intellect. Nothing could be more agreeable to the
latter than to cherish indulgence for the faults of which
we feel ourselves guilty : but if we study ourselves
thoroughly, we shall find that it is precisely those very
faults to which we are inexorable. It is precisely such
that we penetrate the most readily, of which we most
perfectly detect the secret, in our neighbor ; we hate
them in him, with all the hatred which we withhold from
them in ourselves ; we tear from our own hearts, to thrust
into that of our brethren, the dart with which we feel
ourselves pierced ; we punish our failings in the person
of others. Our fellow-men, in spite of themselves,
have us for confidants and judges of their most secret
movements, which we have divined, prophesied, signal-
ized in advance ; we penetrate the whofe sin, and the
consequences of it, in their scarcely formed intention.
Thus, the discoveries which we have made in our own
hearts find those which are analogous to them in the
hearts of others ; less frequently does the observation
of others enable us more fully to know ourselves. But
however this may be, the field of our observation is
constantly enlarging ; each day increases the treasure
of our bitter science ; we are always learning, but
never come to the knowledge of the truth.

I admit, indeed, that all these things are truths, but
not the truth. It is with such truths as it is with a
mass of words and phrases thrown upon paper at haz-
ard, and without order. Perhaps the totality of these
words and phrases may compose an admirable poem ;
but the poem is not there, until the poet arrive, and

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 109

from these scattered elements reconstruct his master-
piece, by impressing upon them the unity of his Hving
thought. These truths which we have acquired, in spite
of ourselves, however clear and certain each may
appear, form, in our minds, nothing but a disordered
chaos, a mass of contradictions. Can this chaos, these
contradictions be the truth? The truth, well under-
stood, ought to have one or the other of two op-
posite effects ; either to overwhelm us with irreparable
despair, or afford us immeasurable consolation, either
to render us entirely miserable, or entirely happy :
but what we have learned from humanity, from life,
and ourselves, has not a sufficiently decided character
to produce either the one or the other of these effects.
There remains something to that humanity which we
hate, to that life which we despise, to that heart which
we feel agitated by such opposing sentiments. Some-
thing ahvays occurs to divert our hatred, our ennui,
and our humiliation. Something even mingles itself
with our misfortune, which either stifles it or lulls it
to sleep. We are not happy, we are not satisfied ;
conscience, interrogated in the silence of reflection, de-
clares that we cannot live so : w^e live nevertheless, w^e
resign ourselves, we get accustomed to our fate ; we
breathe a tainted air, after all it is air ; and the human
heart, banished from its natural atmosphere, which is
that of certainty and peace, accustoms itself, like the
old navigator, to rocking on the abyss, to sleeping
amidst the storms.

But every time he enters within himself, a voice
distinctly cries to him, that, after having learned so
many things, he does not know the truth. Join to that
voice of conscience the apostolic voice of St. Paul. In

110 VINEt's 3IISCELLANIES.

his estimation the truth has not the two aspects which
human ignorance is obhged to give it; for him it is
not despair or peace, misfortune or happiness — it is
happiness alone, peace alone. In him the question is
resolved by a decisive fact. The truth, in his mind,
has nothing but beneficent qualities. The truth calms ;
but, in spite of all your discoveries, you have not
peace. The truth sanctifies ; but, after learning so
much, you are not holy. The truth humbles ; but all
your experience has not inspired you with humility.
The truth makes free ; but, wise as you are, freedom is
not yet yours. The truth walks with charity ; it in-
spires, it commands generosity ; but your mournful
studies have only rendered more relentless the severity
of your judgments ; and, in the result, you have learned
to be indulgent only to yourselves. How then can you
possess the truth, if these are its characteristics ? And
what reason has the Apostle to say, that while al-
ways learning, ye never come to the knowledge of the
truth !

But do you seek for that truth, the absence of which
you feel so much ? Not even that. You have learned
just enough to know that you do not possess it ; the nat-
ural, the imperative conclusion from all your acquisi-
tions, simply enables you to feel your poverty ; but you
are willing to be poor, in that manner; for, in your
estimation, the consciousness of such poverty is actu-
ally wealth. " Pride," says a Christian genius, '-'coun-
terbalances all our miseries ;" "it is something, even," he
says again, " to feel our misery ;" but he has not told us,
that it is everything : and how many people are thus
persuaded! Yes, pride counterbalances all our mise-
ries. Yes, the deplorable satisfaction of having, better

THE ENDLESS STUDY. Ill

than others, seen the degradation of our nature and our
condition ; the pleasure of making a parade of our unfor-
tunate penetration; the vanity of emerging from a
crowd of credulous ones, and taking our place among
the disenchanted ; the unnatural joy of displaying our
wounds, and those of the world ; — this it is which pays
us for the sacrifice of the truth.* But if the flatterers
of mankind ought to be pitied, what sentiments ought
those to inspire, who, with levity of heart, with a
savage pleasure, make it the subject of their satire,
and lead us, with impious jests and diabolical laugh-
ter, to the funeral of hope ? What name shall we
give to those, who, without any necessity, insult us
with the display of a malady without a remedy, of a
misfortune without a consolation ? Certainly, if ever
the influence of the Prince of Darkness must appear,
it is when shedding light upon the most afflicting
aspects of human condition, incessantly calling our
attention thither, multiplying discoveries upon the sub-
ject, and intoxicating our pride by the picture of our
misery, he arrests us at the limit which it is so desira-
ble to pass, and represses the noblest of all curiosity
by that fatal word which formerly sealed the condem-
nation of the Just One — " What is truth ?"

" What is truth ?" Whatever a boding voice may
say, and whatever response, in accordance with this,
may be given by the evil passions of our nature, we
desire to know it — we desire to know the truth — nay,
we desire thoroughly to possess it ; for it exists. But
there are two ways of receiving it : may we know
which is good !

* See Montaigne.

THE ENDLESS STUDY.

PART II.

The truth, which we have so often named, without
defining it, in the preceding discourse, is the truth of
the Gospel.

Truth one and complex, it unites the knowledge of
ourselves and of God — of ourselves in relation to God,
of God in relation to us ; in other words, condemnation
and salvation, the fall and the restoration.

This truth is the truth — the complete revelation of
all which on earth we need to know, touching ourselves
and God. It leaves beyond it a thousand objects of
knowledge ; but with reference to its own object, the
incomparable importance of which casts all others into
the shadow, it leaves nothing essential to be desired by
him who receives it. And, what is admirable ! complete
at its first reception, offered to us entire and at once,
susceptible, so to speak, of being embraced at a single
glance, or imbibed at a single inspiration, it is never-
theless progressive; its radiance ever increases dur-
ing the longest career ; its aspects multiply with the
aspects of life ; always the same, it is always new ; an
instant suffices to possess it, ages will not suffice to
fathom it : — in which sense, it is also an endless study.
This truth, the substance of which is a fact which
we have not to create, and which we could not even

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 113

conceive, has been revealed to us ; and as it does not
belong to us to create it, so it does not depend upon us
to believe it. The impossibility of believing truly,
without the aid of the Holy Spirit, is a part of that
very truth, and is one of the objects of Christian
faith. Nevertheless, so far from wanting in affinity to
our nature, it finds a correspondence there, and closely
unites itself with our deepest and strongest instincts.
It fills the void, illumines the darkness, binds the disor-
dered elements, and forms the whole into a divine
unity. Not only does it make itself believed, but felt ;
appropriated, the soul does not distinguish it from its
primal beliefs, from that natural light which lighteth
every man that cometh into the world. In a word,
born in a region infinitely higher than our reason and
nature, it unites itself, and forms a consistent whole,
with those immutable truths to which nature and reason
bear testimony. Only, it is not our thoughts which ex-
tend themselves to it ; but it is this truth which, de-
scending from the centre of inaccessible light, comes to
add itself to our thoughts.

Thence it is evident, that in the acquisition of the
truth, we do not remain neutral and inactive; nay
more, this demands and puts in operation the deepest
and most energetic powers of our nature. Although
all the grace and glory are due to the Divine Spirit, the
acquisition of the truth is more than an event in our
life, it is an act ; an act the most moral, the most pro-
found which we can consummate ; an act which we
are under obligation to perform in a manner more pe-
culiar than any other ; an act to which we can be ex-
horted, in which we can be directed, and on account
of which we can be approved or blamed.

114 vinet's miscellanies.

Thus, wnen St. Paul speaks to us of persons who
are ever learning without ever coming to the knowl-
edge of the truth, it is not simply a misfortune, but a
fault, which he indicates. This fault is not only that
of the men whom we have spoken of in a preced-
ing discourse, of those men who, instructed in so many
single truths respecting human nature, themselves, and
life, proceed no further, and stop short of the truth
which is offered and announced to them. This fault
belongs to another class of men, who having, as it ap-
pears, penetrated further, and passed the limit which
separates natural from supernatural revelation, having,
in a word, accepted the truth of the Gospel, have not
seized it as it ought to be seized ; who, instead of assim-
ilating the truth to their whole being, have appropri-
ated it only to their understanding, to that, namely,
which is most exterior in their interior nature. These
men, in a sphere, in appearance far above that of the
first, can, like them, learn much, can learn unceasingly,
but never come to the knowledge of the truth ; in a
word, while having the truth, they remain strangers to
the truth.

If any one should deem it strange that we can ap-
propriate a fact by the intellect, and yet not know it,
we would refer him not only to the New Testament,
which everywhere supposes what we affirm, which
everywhere designates by the name of knowledge some-
thing which is more than an act or a condition of the
mind, but we would refer him also to the very nature
of things and the import of words. Knowledge has
different instruments and different conditions, according
to its different objects. We know by the eye things
of sight, by the ear those of hearing, by the heart those

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 115

of the heart, by the intellect ideas of all things. The
intellect, then, appropriates only the ideas of things, not
their impression, their reality. If it suffices in science,
properly so called, which has for its object only the
ideas of things, with their logical connection, it does
not suffice in the sphere of facts, the end of which is,
to be put in immediate contact with the living forces
of the soul, and which, without such contact, lose their
character, and so far as that relation is concerned, their
existence.* Doubtless, in this kind of knowledge, as in
all others, the understanding has its functions to per-
form, but the truth is not arrested by the mirror which
it presents to it ; it passes through that, in order to be
reflected in the more interior mirror of the soul. In-
deed we may say with reference to truths of that sort,
that they are not perceived or comprehended, except
as they reach that part of our nature which is the seat
of our affections, and consequently the true centre of
our life.

The world is accustomed to give to the word truth a
sense too narrow and too particular. It is regarded
commonly only as the conformity of the representation
with the object represented ; but truth may reside in
facts as well as in ideas. The conformity of means
with the end, of action with principle, of life with idea,
these also are truth: what we call virtue is nothing
else than truth in disposition and action. In the matter
of morals, truth cannot be separated from life, it is life
itself And if, instead of passing into the life, it remain
in the thought, it merits not the name of truth. When

* That is, they have an objective, but not a subjective existence.
They do not exist for us. They might as well not exist at all. — T.

116 vinet's miscellanies.

you ask me if I am in the truth, you do not ask what
I know, but what I am.

In applying these ideas to Christian truth, we find,
that to be in the truth is to become, by our affections
and our conduct, hke to Jesus Christ ; it is to follow him,
spiritually, in all the events through which he has passed,
in his death by our death to sin, in his resurrection by
our regeneration, in his invisible glory by our life hid
with him in God ; in a word, it is spiritually to re-live
the entire life of Jesus Christ. This only can be called
knowing the truth, living in the truth.

If religion is something more than a science, if it is
a life flowing from a fact, it is clear that it cannot
spring from the intellect alone ; and whoever sees in it
only a system of ideas, is yet without the truth. Nay,
should he give all possible attention to each of these
ideas, their mutu a relations, and their combination,
and in each of these departments daily make some new
discovery, all his progress would not conduct him a
single step towards the truth. What he has learned
may be exactly true, but it is not the truth.

Let us take a glance at the vast field of religious
speculation. We find there, first of all, facts to be con-
fided to our memory : religion is interlaced in the tissue
of a long history, which stretches from the first days
of the world, through many generations of empires, and
carries along with it all the names and all the recollec-
tions which envelop the history of the universe. What
personages with their characteristics, what institutions
with their principles, what events with their causes it
presents for our consideration, from the fate of the first
pair to the present condition of human society, so com-
plicated and so problematical ! What facts are attached

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 117

to each of these facts ! how then' aspects multiply as
we gaze ! how reflection renews incessantly that won-
drous picture ! But the history upon which religion is
founded must be believed, and consequently proved.
Here opens to the activity of the intellect an arena still
more vast. The precautions of a good and serious
faith have opened a route which the prejudices of scep-
ticism, and involuntary doubts born of successive dis-
coveries have greatly enlarged, and which, ready to
close itself up, is re-opened unceasingly, to close itself
anew, and then to be re-opened once more. An objec-
tion abandoned permits another to rise ; the field of
discussion changes from epoch to epoch ; religion is
attacked on its historical basis, with the natural sciences,
with monuments, with metaphysics, or rather with all
the repugnances of the heart, aided by all the resources
of the intellect ; and the truth, after having vanquished
a thousand adversaries which ever rise again, sees a
thousand others spring up with new weapons, or to
speak with more accuracy, imbued with the spirit of a
new age ; so that the believer who turns to this quarter
his intellectual activity, will find, if he pleases, sufficient
employment for his entire life. If from the domain of
the apologetic, he passes into that of Christian philoso-
phy, what an immense career opens before him !

The system of Christianity, that is to say, the rela-
tions of its different parts among themselves, and of the
whole to one central idea, to one end ; the comparison
of that religion with human nature, with reference to
which God, so to speak, has taken the measure, and
traced the plan ; the explanation, alternately, of Chris-
tianity by nature, and of nature by Christianity ; the
definition of the Christian spirit and its application to

118 vinet's miscellanies.

the details of life ; the harmony of this with all other
systems, each of which, being incapable of containing
or of explaining all facts, has left some great chasm
which Jesus Christ has filled, an immense difficulty
which he has caused to disappear ; in a word, the har-
monizing by Christianity, and by it alone, of all the con-
tradictions, of all the desperate qualities of which our
life and our nature even, seem to be formed.*^ — These
will give you an idea, but a feeble one, of the infinite
speculations in which the study of Christian philoso-
phy can engage a reflective mind. But this is not all.
Religion may be contemplated as a fact taking place
among all those which compose human life, control-
ling them, imposing upon them its character, constrain-
ing them to unity, whether with itself or with one an-
other ; penetrating, now with the weight of its mass,
now with the energy of its action, or the irresistible charm
of its influence, into the most extended spaces, and into
the remotest corners of human existence ; powerful sap
of the tree, whose trunk is buried deep in the soil, and
which flows imperceptibly to the most delicate extrem-
ities of the branches. Private life and public society,
laws and manners, literature and the arts, everything
relating to the government of material interests, becomes
Christian under the influence of Christianity ; it con-
verts all things into its own substance ; with it, every-
thing becomes religion ; a perfect connection, at once

* Dualities — that is, the opposite poles of truth, or the apparently
contradictory aspects, which it always involves ; such as the finite and
the infinite, the conditioned and the unconditioned, the created and the
uncreated, the material and the immaterial, the liuman and the divine,
the God absolute, the God revealed, the God infinite and therefore in-
comprehensible, the God personal and therefore known. — T.

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 119

logical and moral, is established between all the parts
of human life ; that life loses none of its natural ele-
ments, it sacrifices only dangerous superfluities already
condemned by the sages of all time ; it preserves more
than those austere spirits desired to retain, whom the
feebleness of their means constrained to exaggeration,
and who imposed upon human nature by so much more as
they were the less capable of inspiring it. I might
say much more. But I stop here, for fear I should stop
too late ; for I should transcend all bounds by underta-
king to indicate, I do not say new subjects of study, but
merely to recall those which have long ago been dis-
cussed. Judge then by this, what a harvest of ideas
grows in this last domain, and combining, by thought,
those spheres, each of which might absorb a man entire,
acknowledge that the intellect, applied to religion, might
find there, according to St. Paul, matter for endless
study.

Yes, endless study, without ever coming to the knowl-
edge of the truth. But you w^ll say to me, can it be
so ? is it really so ? Yes, — examples abound ; they have
abounded at all times. This fact answers both vour
questions. If the fact appear to you inconceivable, then
am I astonished at your astonishment, for it is perfectly
clear that reasoning does not necessarily terminate in
feeling ; for when thought is preoccupied more with the
idea of a fact than wdth the fact itself, the idea remains,
and the fact escapes. It is as if the light of the sun should
prevent a man from seeing the sun. In vain are the
ideas connected with Christianity numerous and beau-
tiful. Their very number and beauty become a snare
which hinders us from going further ; the interest of cu-
riosity absorbs all other interests. In vain are those

120 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

ideas so close to the truth that they appear the substance
itself ; a new snare this, greater than the first ; if they
were at a greater distance, and completely foreign to it,
illusion would not be possible ; so that it has been fre-
quently remarked, that labors the most distant from
Christian speculation, provided they are not in opposi-
tion to Christian morality, are less fitted to withdraw^ the
soul from that which ought to be its principal object on
earth. Often better by far, for the religious life of the
heart, to be a merchant, an artist, a mathematician, than
a theologian.*

But what is it, to be out of the truth, except to
be contrary to the truth ? To accept it, but in a
spirit different from its own, what else is this but to
give it the lie, to deny it in fact, while recognizing it in
principle, and thus tacitly to protest against the designs
and plan of God ? He has embodied the truth, and we
disembody it. He has given us realities, and we give
him back ideas. He has created a world, and w^e make
it a system. He has caused to rise upon us the Sun of
Righteousness, with healing in his beams ; but we re-
fuse the heat of that glorious orb, which is light and
heat at once, and accept only the light. But what am
I saying — that we accept the light ? God has designed
(and that is one of the most remarkable traits of his
work) to take away from us the idea that we can invent
the light, and draw the truth from our own thoughts ;
he has designed to disabuse us respecting the all-suffi-

* This is strikiiigly demonstrated by the history of theological polem-
ics. The world has seen no deeper sceptics and enemies of the truth,
than the theological speculators of France and Germany, Nay, among
ourselves are some, who, occupying the sacred desk, are doing all they
can to destroy the Gospel

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 121

ciency of our reason, and induce us to submit to the
truth. But on condition of considering it only with our
understanding, that is to say, ourselves, instead of
submitting to the truth, we submit on\j to ourselves.
By applying our intellect to revelation, we make it in
some measure our own work, we replace faith by phil-
osophical certainty, we submit to ourselves, not to that
" demonstration of power'' of which the Holy Spirit is
the author, but to the argumentation of the schools ; so
that Jesus Christ finds in us partisans rather than disci-
ples, sectarians rather than believers. Elaborated by
our intellect, his Gospel becomes our Gospel, his reve-
lation our philosophy, his mysteries our logical necessi-
ties, Jesus Christ another necessity of the same kind,
and God himself the mere product of our thought. Is not
this to go contrary to the designs of God, and falsely to
inscribe ourselves Christians, if not contrary to the let-
ter, at least to the spirit of his declarations, to be
Christians in a way the least Christian, and to destroy
the Gospel by pretending to establish it?

Here I might further inquire, if these thoughts, to
consider them only as thoughts, are entirely conformed
to those of God ; if these formulas, which we have con-
structed, and which every Christian, I presume, will ac-
cept without difficulty, signify in our mind, exactly the
same thing which they do in his ; if, indeed, they do
not, under a perfect similarity of language, conceal
a very great difference of ideas ? Consider, wheth-
er or not any one can distinguish, as we have done,
in the matter of religion, what belongs to the intel-
lect, and what to the heart, that truth, nevertheless,
is one, and derives its character only from the combina-
tion of thought and feeling applied to the same fact, so

6

122 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

that we cannot have the whole of the feeUng, without
the whole of the thought ; nor the whole of the thought,
without the whole of the feeling. The whole truth is
not perfectly conceived, but by the whole man ; and
although it may be impossible for the Christian in real-
ity to describe that in which he differs from the Chris-
tian in thought, although he finds, in despite of a con-
fused sentiment of discordance, a certain harmony upon
many points, and language itself fails to indicate the deli-
cate shades of difference, — yet these shades, in their
delicateness, are infinitely important. Could they be
expressed in language, it would be found even, that the
thought of these two persons is not exactly parallel;
and that, in a relation purely speculative, the Christian
in idea does not possess all the truth which is possessed
by the Christian complete.

We have one more step to take together ; and
perhaps your reflections have already anticipated it.
The exclusive application of the intellect to religion,
not only does not advance us towards the truth, that
is to say, towards life, but it tends to draw us further
and further from it. Let us return to our princi-
ples : to be in the truth, is not to be spectators of the
truth, but it is to live the life of Jesus Christ ; and with-
out suggesting here all the characteristics of that life,
we limit ourselves to saying, that it is a life of self-con-
trol and humiUty. But knowledge dissipates and in-
flates ; these are its natural effects ; for it must be ad-
mitted, that we ought to call that dissipation, which
estranges the soul from the true end of life, and that
inflation or pride which gives to man an exaggerated
idea of his power and independence. In this sense, we
may comprehend how an individual the most serious

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 123

and modest, in the eyes of the world, is proud and vain,
in the eyes of the truth ; for if he forgets not the end to
which human wisdom ought to aspire, he wanders from
that which divine wisdom prescribes. If he does not
voluntarilv raise himself above his fellow-men, he raises
himself, with them, above the condition of humanity,
and, we may say, to a level with God himself. But, I
would ask, can anything be more contrary to the spirit
of that Gospel which he has studied, and which he
claims to understand ? And will not a study which, des-
titute of a counterpoise, delivers man to that double
tendency, a study every advance in which leads one just
so far into pride and dissipation of mind, every day
draw him further and further from the truth — in other
words, further and further from life ?

Habits of thought are not less tyrannical than others,
and a time comes when return is impossible, even to the
strongest will. Follow the moral history of a man
abandoned to the tendency which we have indicated.
Seriousness of spirit was no stranger to the first steps
in his progress ; it is scarcely possible that he regarded
religion simply as a subject of philosophiclil specula-
tion ; his first design was doubtless to apply It to his
heart, and submit to it his life. But that impression
was superficial and fugitive ; thought, powerfully ex-
cited, threw itself upon that rich prey, and turned it
entirely to its own account. That inclination became
dominant and tyrannical ; everything which was in-
tended as aliment for the soul, became food for the
intellect. Each gain of the intellect was a loss to the
soul, which, deprived of stimulus and condemned to
inaction, lost its energy in idleness. That man, having
acquired the habit of seizing everything on the intel-

124 vinet's miscellanies.

lectual side, gradually becomes incapable of seizing it
under any other aspect. Strange ! he becomes more
and more capable of explaining the effects of truth upon
the soul, less and less capable of feeling its power upon
his own ; he has spoken, he has written, perhaps, upon
the process of grace, but his heart has grown more and
more impenetrable to the influence of grace. In all his
religious reflections, the idea of the thing has presented
itself with the thing, nay has interposed itself between
his mind and the fact ; soon indeed he has seen nothing
in these facts but phantoms, which faithfully exhibit
their surface and outline, but contain no substance
whatever. He has discovered the evil, and is troubled
— he has finally tried to make of religion, so long his
study, his personal aftair ; he endeavors to place him-
self under the action of truth, and in dependence upon
it ; but such is the force of habit, that at each attempt
his intellect forces itself between his conscience and
the object. Seeking in vain a rehgion in his system,
he ever finds only a system in religion. In his anguish,
he would willingly forget, willingly be ignorant; he
envies the credulity of the simple and of children ; he
would give all his science for one of their sighs, all his
intelligence for their heart — for his own has ceased to
beat, it has become intellect. He wishes that Chris-
tianity were gone from his memory, that the very exist-
ence of religion should become unknown, in order that,
presented to him a second time, it might act upon his
heart, formed anew, with all the energy of a fresh fact,
of an unexpected blessing. Vain wishes ! the eye
which is destroyed can never be restored — and never
can we restore faith, which is the eye of the soul.
Strange condition of mind, in which one believes

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 125

everything, yet believes nothing ; in which the faith of
the intellect enables us to feel the necessity of the faith
of the heart, causes us to mourn its absence, but cannot
give it to the soul ; a condition of light, but of light
which has no other effect than to render darkness
visible ; ignorance in the midst of science, error in
truth, unbelief in faith, a curse in the form of a bless-
ing; situation, contradictory, insensate, in which we
should reproach the divine power as a cruel mock-
ery, if the evidence did not compel us to ascribe it to
ourselves ! God is not the author of any evil ; he is
the remedy of all evils ; and the cure of what we have
just described is not beyond his power, is not beyond
his goodness.

Here, it seems to me, that I hear some one saying,
but is it really nothing to know? Is not knowing
the way to the truth ? Is it not a part of the
truth ?

Doubtless it is ; and were this the proper occa-
sion, I should insist on the utility of that very knowl-
edge, the insufficiency of which I have just exhibi-
ted ; and for this very reason, that religion ought to be
seized by the whole man. I should demand that the
intellect should enter into it ; and, considering the
beautiful harmony of the evangelical system, its perfect
consistency founded upon absolute and, by consequence,
necessary truth, the accordance of that work of God
with all the other works of the same hand, I would say,
that if we wished to place man at the point of depart-
ure of all just ideas, on the way of all practical truths,
it is good to make him embrace the Christian religion
on the sides which interest his reason ; a thing, per-
haps, too much neglected, and which would form for

126 VINET*S MISCELLANIES.

the mass of society an instrument of mental develop-
ment, not less than of moral cultm'e.

But ideas of Christianity are not Christianity ; it
ought, however, to be well remarked here, that if from
Christianity, real and living, we re-descend, almost
without willing it, to the ideas of which its system is
composed, so also these ideas remount as naturally to
life, which is its essence. Yet once more we remark,
these are only ideas, ideas, I avow, relative to moral
facts, moral ideas, and which, as such, cannot be ex-
plained, but by some previous intervention of the mo-
ral being, but w^hich, nevertheless, do not necessarily
move that last fountain of the soul, from which springs
true life. In studying the phenomena of interior ex-
istence, one is almost tempted to admit in man two
concentric souls, of which the most exterior is only the
counterproof or the reflection of the other; a super-
ficial soul that remains a stranger to obligation, obedi-
ence, and will, but which conceives of all these, which
receives the communications of the true soul, possesses
its secret, speaks its language, and, on the ground of
that mutual understanding, gives and takes itself for a
soul — although it is only the dim reflection of the soul
in the understanding. Whatever may be the nature of
that faculty, and the secret of its relations to life, we
do not see in it the true seat of religious truth ; even
though capable of admiring and painting the truth, it is
not in a situation to experience and realize it. This
second soul, doubtless, could not exist in the absence of
the first ; moral ideas suppose in him who perceives
them a moral nature, and one has some difficulty in
conceiving why every idea does not bring along with it
its corresponding sentiment ; but innumerable facts exist

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 127

to prove that these ideas, however moral they may be,
are nothing but ideas, that they belong only to the do-
main of the intellect, and that it is not in them we must
seek for the source of life. Life belongs to that portion
of our nature which obeys, which hopes and loves.

I have spoken first of obeying, because the sentiment
of obligation, the conscience, is the root of all morality.
I have spoken of it first, because separation between
God and man, having here for its principle the
disobedience of man, the return of man to God or
religion must commence by obedience ; religion, which
names nothing else as its end, speaks of nothing else as
its beginning. Conscience produces fear; fear dis-
sipated by the free offer of salvation, gives place to joy ;
joy opens the heart to love ; and love is life, love itself
is salvation ; obedience, which ought to be the reason
of our happiness, is become its effect and consequence.
Such is the genealogy of evangelical sentiments and
dispositions ; it shows us in what spirit we ought to
receive the Gospel, and how we ought to appropriate it.
It is with intellect and conscience together that we
ought to read it.

What can be more reasonable ; what more conformed
to the nature of the Gospel, and the design which God
has in view in giving it ? His design is to provide a
remedy for the soul, a rule for the will. The Gospel,
like all other facts, may furnish matter for a science ;
but, before being a science, it is a fact, it is an action
of God. That action, it is more important to submit
to, than to explain. When a father confers a benefit
upon his children, or when in the exercise of his
paternal functions, he takes some step on their account,
their duty, doubtless, is not to analyze psychologically

128 vinet's miscellanies.

the principles which cause him to act so, or the consis-
tency of the means which he employs to accomplish
his aim, but to receive it, and to feel it. A plant — sup-
posing it endowed with reason — would not be fertilized
by the knowledge which it might have of the origin of
the effects of the rain, but by the rain itself. Before
investigating the effects of grace, which is the rain
from heaven, and which falls not in all places, man
ought to run towards it, and steep himself in its influ-
ence. Then only will the withered branches revive,
and be covered with fruits.

Then refreshed, fertilized, living, he may investigate,
if he pleases ; and thus, doubtless, he will do with
humility, with reverence, and in order to render honor
to the source of life. His thought, impregnated with a
balsam which prevents all corruption, will communicate
grace with science. Then will fall to the ground, with
the approbation of St. Paul himself, that word of his,
" Science puffeth up, charity buildeth up," because
science itself has become charity. Then will St. Paul
no longer say of you, that you are always learning,
without coming to the knowledge of the truth, because
you have known, so to speak, before learning ; the
great truth was in your heart, before the particular
truths of speculation entered your intellect. Then
these truths themselves will become living parts of
" the truth ;" your theology of a piece with the other,
will be a religion ; your science entirely Christian ;
your light, heat ; your sun, a true sun. In making such
use of your intellect as will honor you among the
thinking, you will provoke no one to the idolatry of
intellect ; your reason will suffice to point out the
limits and insufficiency of reason ; as the bow holds the

THE ENDLESS STUDY. 129

arrow, each of your thoughts will hold a sentiment ; at
once instructed and edified by you, all will rejoice so
fully to comprehend what they love, arid to love what
they comprehend, and will bless Him who, in sending
from heaven peace to our troubled hearts, has sent
peace equally to our intellect.

But all this will not be your work ; but the work of
Him, whose grace addressed equally to intellect and
heart, has shed upon them by turn light in the heat,
and heat in the light. To him then I feel myself com-
pelled to appeal, at the close of this abstract discussion,
composed of the very speculations whose abuse I have
condemned. No one, I hope, will have occasion to
accuse me of inconsistency. In this case, all Christian
preachers would have to be accused, who in presenting
to you ideas (for they have nothing at their disposal but
the ideas of things) extend their wishes, in your behalf,
further than their power will go. The danger which I
have, to-day, pointed out, I have met in this very dis-
course. I have need then to pray God to moisten this
arid soil, to vivify these reasonings, to realize these ideas ;
to cause your heart to respond to each of the words,
which I have addressed to your intellects. I raise to
Him from the bosom of my infirmity, that prayer which
will change it into power. If you pray yourselves, my
desire will be accomplished in advance ; for one prays
not with the intellect, but with the heart. May we, at
the close of these speculations, find ourselves fortified in
our aversion to sterile speculations ; be led to examine
ourselves whether we have the truth in us, or only its
form, whether we merely know or whether we live !
Whatever be the extent of our knowledge or the reach of
our intellect, may we all have it in our power, with joy

6*

130 vinet's miscellanies.

and gratitude, to appropriate these words of our Saviour :
"I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and of
earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and
prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes !" O blessed
childhood ; true maturity of the heart, true perfection
of man, immutable age of the faithful on earth, eternal
age of the blessed and of angels, mayst thou be given to
all of us with thy simplicity, thy candor, and thy faith !

THE CENTRE OF MORAL GRAVITATION.

OCCASIONED BY THE "PHILOSOPHICAL MISCELLANIES"

OF M. JOUFFROY.

(from "ESSAIS DE PHILOSOPHIE MORALE.")

The two most remarkable pieces of this collection
are those which have for their title " The Actual Con-
dition of Humanity."* The first only has been known
to us. When it appeared in the Globe, in 1826, we
recollect how vividly it excited our curiosity, with ref-
erence to the second article, which it led us to expect,
but which did not appear. The author in the first part
of his task, proposed to show the extreme probability,
or rather philosophical necessity of the triumph of
Christian civilization, which, in his view, must gradually
absorb all other civilizations. First ascending to the
cause of the difference which separates civilized from
savage communities, M. Jouffroy found it to consist in
the different degrees of precision, with which the ques-
tion of religion was solved in these respective communi-
ties. Thus the author indicated, on his way, a great
truth, w^hich was noticed, perhaps, only, by a small
number of his readers : namely, that man is a religious

* For a brief account of M. Jouffroy, and the pieces referred to, see
Note at tlie end of this Essay.

132 vinet's miscellanies.

animal ; that is to say, that he is irresistibly impelled
to subordinate every question to that of religion ; that,
by an instinct, he finds all things good or bad, useful
or injurious, according to their conformity or opposition
to the law, which places in time the conditions of eter-
nity ; that society cannot organize itself with security
or hope except around some " Word of God ;" that the
law can be nothing less than the will of God applied
to social action ; in a word, that society itself, as well
as the individual, is created in the manner and with
the means appropriate to it, to perform the service of
God. According to which, it is easy to comprehend,
says our author, that as the solution of the religious
question shall be more precise, (and we add, more true)
the more will society find itself in harmony with the
designs of God, the fulfilment of which constitutes the
order and beauty of the universe, the happiness of sen-
sitive and intelligent beings. To the different degrees
of religious truth must correspond with exactness, the
different degrees of civilization, from the condition ab-
solutely savage, which is only the lowest term of a con-
tinued gradation, to the highest social perfection attain-
able by man. The comparison of civilized nations
with each other will present results perfectly analogous.
The relative truth of the religious system will determine
the superiority of the social system, while in its turn,
the superiority of the social system and its capacity for
extension, its conquering force, will bear testimony
to the truth of the religious doctrines upon which it is
based. But, the author, after having proved that " mis-
sionaries cannot act upon communities already civil-
ized except by the superiority of the truth of the Chris-
tian system, that this superiority of truth is also a supe-

THE CENTRE OF MORAL GRAVITATION. 133

riority of power, and confers superiority of attraction ;
after having announced that he had sought to ascertain,
both by history and investigation, which of the systems
is the truest," has, nevertheless, not attempted to prove
except by resuhs the superiority of the truth which he as-
cribes to Christianity. His second article, very fine in
other respects, and w^hich would not have disappointed us,
had not our attention been directed elsewhere, presents
the development of very different ideas. Disappointed !
but why disappointed ? After all, we have not been dis-
appointed. In studying, with some care, this second
article, we have found, if not the results that we sought,
at least principles which involve or necessitate it. We
proceed to explain ourselves.

After comparing civilized with savage nations, and
then civilized nations with each other, he ends by pla-
cing himself at the centre of Christian civilization, and
traces a parallel between the three European nations
which, in his view, are the representatives of the differ-
ent forms, and depositaries of the different forces of
that civilization. He shows w^hat the system they
represent would gain by their union becoming more and
more intimate ; he discovers what each of them would
itself gain by this means, and endeavors to prove that
to labor truly for the welfare of one nation, it must be
done with reference to humanity as a whole ; for by
virtue of that most admirable law, in the widest as well
as in the narrowest sphere, the interest of all is identi-
cal with the interest of each.

Here we cannot withhold the remark that the inverse
maxim lies at the basis of the systems which, in the
present day, tend to predominate. It seems to be ad-
mitted, in fact, that the interest of each is identical and

134 vinet's miscellanies.

harmonious with the interest of all, and that the first
conducts to the second, as the second to the first. In
an abstract point of view this is true, so that without
inconvenience the terms of the proposition may be re-
versed. If this identity exists (and how doubt it with-
out denying God, enthroning chance, rejecting evi-
dence?) it ought to be a matter of indifference, but
always in an abstract sense, whether we begin at the
one term or at the other. It is not, however, in an ab-
stract but in a concrete sense that the individual acts,
that is to say, in the sense of a given individuality, which
is his own, and which is composed in part of an instinct
of justice and sympathy, and in part of passions which
struggle in opposition, and constitute the different forms
of a greedy, all-grasping, all-devouring egoism.* Thence
the identity exists no longer, the harmony is broken ;
and it is easy to conceive how, if a single egoism dis-
turbs order, a thousand egoisms in conflict not only with
society but with themselves, will disturb it yet more,
and so far from social good being the result, nothing but
social evil can spring from their combined development.
But social evil, in particular, can be nothing else than
the evil of individuals, so that, by an inevitable reper-
cussion, the misery of society falls back upon each of
its authors.

But a nation can be nothing more than an individual,
when serving as a rule to itself A nation is an indi-
vidual, passionate, egoistical, unjust, which, in taking its
interest for its only rule, compromises as well the inter-
ests of humanity as its own. Reason ought to cause
nations to ascend to humanity, as individuals to nations ;
for the task given us is always to ascend to that which

* Selfishness.

THE CENTRE OF MORAL GRAVITATION. 135

is found to be an interest which can never become ego-
istical, (selfish,) and which on this ground becomes the
summit and source of all other interests. This interest
can be nothing but humanity. But two things may be
understood by humanity : the mass of men which in-
habit our globe, or the combination of the qualities which
constitute the nature of man. In the first sense, the
providential law already finds its application, for facts
prove that the evil of one nation can never be the good
of others, nor its good their evil. But these facts lead
only to a very imperfect realization of the law ; whether
it be that the practical consequence which we derive
from it is of a necrative character, and resolves itself
into reciprocal offices of a prudential kind, or whether
humanity in the first sense is really beyond the reach
of individuals, and even of nations. It is in the second
sense, then, that humanity can serve as an object to our
efforts ; we are called to promote, each in his sphere, the
interests of the human element, and to elevate ourselves
from patriotism to humanity. But what is the human
element? and consequently, what is humanity {huma-
nisme) ? Is there in reality a human element ? When
you have detached from the notion of man that of child,
father, husband, citizen, the particular, the public man,
what remains to the pure notion of man ? An indiflferent
substance, the primal and neutral matter of all our re-
lations— a mere image of faculties and organs — which
is not dumb, however, and which once drew from a
people whose nationality had made it ferocious, a cry
of enthusiasm, at the utterance of that fine sentiment :
Homo sum, et nihil humani a me alienum puto, but
which did not prevent that people, which will never
prevent any people, making their national existence a

136 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

perpetual blasphemy against humanity. We repeat it,
a substantial reality is wanting to the mere notion of
man. All the particular attributes with which the life
of man can be invested, suppose a relation ; man, as
man alone, has it not ; and the notion of humanity van-
ishes from our hands the moment we imagine we have
grasped it. If, then, there is nothing by which, in some
way, it may substantiate itself, do not retain man sus-
pended in the void, but let him fall back towards the
various relations which we have just named, at the risk
of seeing him make of each of these relations a basis of
an egoism. We must abandon our attempt to find in
the idea of humanity that last step* from which a relation
may embrace and control all others, that unity where
all interests, co-ordinated like a pyramid, become, at
their apex, one indivisible interest. But we shall not
be disappointed in this respect, if we find for man a re-
lation not parallel but superior to all which are formed
on earth, that is, if we make it terminate with God, by
means of the most elevated parts of our being. Then
man finding a relation finds a reality ; then the pure
notion of man has a substance ; then man, so far as he
is man, is a reality ; then he has a human interest, which
is determined by the relation of man to God ; then have
we found a centre for all our interests, a summit to the
pyramid of human relations, a point whence his entire
moral life may issue and expand. It were impossible
for us to feel ourselves under an absolute obligation to
humanity, a mere abstract being from whom we receive
nothing. But we are under obligation, in a manner the
most absolute, to God, who is our origin and our end.
There our egoism expires, there we cease to belong to

* Echelon, round of the ladder or pyramid.

THE CENTRE OF MORAL GRAVITATION. 137

ourselves ; there we are at the disposal of God, and of
all the objects which he indicates to our devotion.
Eternal interest, the interest of God, if I may thus ex-
press myself, is alone large enough to hold all other in-
terests in free and generous play. Whatever is right
finds its place in the service of God ; for whatever is
right is God himself; egoism (selfishness) alone, individ-
ual or rational, can find no place there, for egoism is
the antagonism of that pure devotion, that disinterested
love which we owe to God. No interest can be cultiva-
ted at the expense of another, for God, who is the good
of all, cannot contain in himself the evil of an v. God
is then the social principle par excellence, which we
were to seek after by ascending higher and higher.

But the mere idea of God, an idea exposed among
men to so many corruptions, is not sufficient to secure
our devotion to him. God must discover himself to us,
in an authentic form, and with a character fitted to in-
spire disinterested affection.

It is in this last feature that M. Jouffi'ov will discover
the superiority of the truth which he has foreseen in
Christianity ; he will find here more than he sought —
auctius et melius. For in a moral and social point of
view, and according to the principles he has himself
laid down, he must acknowledge that Christianity has
absolute truth. If religion, in order to be social, ought
to teach and to inspire pure benevolence, what religion
in this respect can compare with Christianity, which for
the sake of teaching man to devote himself to God, has
first devoted God to man ? I ask the author whether,
in reasoning consistently upon the principles he has
chosen, he is not irresistibly bound to recognize Chris-
tianity as true ? What other doctrine can be more, or

138 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

do more ? Can you conceive of one which could show
us more than God incarnate, God upon the Cross ?*

It is in this way that M. Jouffroy, perhaps, might
have demonstrated the absolute truth of Christianity,
if he had given himself to the investigation which his
first article seemed to promise ; and we repeat it, we
cannot see how he could logically arrive at any other
conclusion. For ourselves, the positions of the second
article on the true social theory, which places society
at the centre, and the individual at the circumference,
has made the Christian solution an inevitable necessity.
From whatever point we start, provided we advance in
good faith, we must terminate in the great evangelical
synthesis.f

Taken in itself, the second article of M. Jouffroy is
a beautiful and noble composition, fruitful of conse-
quences. We have ascended, at once, to the principle
which governs the theory of the author, and which ex-
plains and justifies it ; let us now change the route, and,
forgetting the heights to which that theory attaches it-
self, let us inquire only to what consequences it leads.

In the manner of Copernicus, the author has removed
the individual from the centre, where he illumines
nothing, directs nothing, does nothing — towards the
circumference, where he must gravitate. Humanity

* If Jesus Christ is " God manifest in the flesh," there can be no error,
no extravagance in representing God upon the cross. Whatever of mys-
tery may be involved in this, it discovers to us the disinterested and
amazing love of God. — T.

f That is, the Gospel, by reuniting man to God, alone makes religion
and morality, including disinterested love, purity and virtue, possible.
That unites all extremes, reconciles all contradictions, mental, moral, and
BociaL That first binds men to God, and then binds men to one another.
A sublime " Christian synthesis" indeed ! — T.

THE CENTRE OF MORAL GRAVITATION. 139

now occupies the centre ; humanity, I say, represented
in each country by a particular society which must
serve for humanity. Divisions into famihes and nations
represent only grand divisions of labor, in a sublime
spirit and aim. If this be so, then many changes will fol-
low, for whoever serves must command, and whoever
commands must serve. Society is no longer the instru-
ment of the individual, but the individual is the instru-
ment of society. Society no longer exists for man, but
man for society. It will however be asked, is all this
new ; is it not what we have a thousand times anticipat-
ed ? We reply : this has been said sometimes, by a sort
of contradiction; for example, among the ancient re-
publics, where the individual, by uniting his egoism with
thousands of others, and transferring his own personal-
ity to the personality of the nation, has attached the
greatest part of his personal interest and happiness to
the triumphs, however unjust, of the association of
which he formed a part; so that the patriotism of
Athens and Rome was a mere bargain in which the
soul gave its share of individual welfare for a share
in the national glory and prosperity. And this is only
saying that, in the great majority of cases, they were
without disinterestedness ; for sacrifices were required
only as an equitable bounty for benefits rendered by
society, as a moral tax, without which society could not
meet the public expense. The same thing is still said,
in our day, with little intelligence, when the masses are
invited to devote themselves in the name of themselves,
that is, in the name of nothing, without the principle
of love, and with no relation to anything but them-
selves, always rushing onward, but never rising up-
ward. Christianity alone thoroughly comprehends

140 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

what it says, when it commands devotion (self-conse-
cration,) it alone knows disinterested love ; in the first
place, because such pure devotion is doctrinally at its
basis, and secondly, because, by giving the full assur-
ance of happiness, and in that assurance itself the very
happiness which it secures, by bestowing the recom-
pense before the devotion, the salary before the labor,
it puts the soul in a condition to devote itself without
reserve, without hope, and without pledge ; makes of
devotion the recompense of devotion, of sacrifice a part
of the happiness it confers.*

The doctrine of M. JoufFroy, who makes humanity
the end and aim of individuals and nations, is thus new,
if taken beyond the limits of Christian inspirations ;
and when he complains that it is not made the basis of
politics, and the guide of political men, he but com-
plains, to say the truth, that political men are not
Christians ! When governments shall be Christian,
then we shall see them laboring in the direction of the
general interests of humanity. But if you could suc-
ceed, even now, in convincing them by facts, that the
interest of their communities engages them to labor
thus, it would be no more in their power to do so, than
it is in the power of a selfish individual to regulate all
his conduct with reference to the interests of his fellow-
men, when he is assured beforehand that they will end,
by taking from him all the profit. Love alone teaches

* God gives himself, first of all, for man and to man. The instant,
therefore, man believes, he is forgiven and saved. He is fully jus-
tified, and put in possession of eternal life. All that he has to do is to
consecrate himself to God and to duty. By losing himself, he finds God,
and in finding God, once more finds himself, nay, finds everything. " All
is yours." Thus devotion, or sacrifice itself^ is our highest interest and
felicity.

THE CENTRE OF MORAL GRAVITATION. 141

devotion; and v^^e are satisfied that general interests
must be poorly guaranteed by the calculations of indi-
vidual selfishness.

And w^hat is admirable, in this theory realized, par-
ticular interests would be better secured the less they
were thought of! The social welfare comprehends all
other welfare, the human interests all other interests.
In an order of things founded upon this principle, it
would come to pass that little would be said of rights,
much of duties ; nevertheless no right would suffer.
Liberty would then be cultivated in connection with
the entire social interest, and under the influence of
religious principle. Society would be restored to its
primitive integrity ; it w^ould permit no one to be a
slave : liberty, in its view, would be a force and a dig-
nity, of which it would not suffer itself to be despoiled
in the person of any of its members. A social state,
founded upon the principle of disinterestedness, could
not be other than free and happy.

To the idea of liberty would attach itself (a thing
equally new !) the idea of peace. Till the present time
this has never been so. In too many cases, liberty is
compelled to be nothing but an egoism, which defends it-
self or attacks others. Its character, altogether nega-
tive, puts it out of its power to create anything, to bind
anything together. Not being love, it is nothing.
Jealousy and hostility superabound in the political
movements which pass under our eyes ; defiance is the
avowed principle of modern constitutions.* With
such elements as these, what can be constituted which
is either solid or vital? They dissolve, they do not

* No one needs to be told how tliis has been verified in the recent
history of political movements in modern Continental Europe.

142 vinet's miscellanies.

unite. A true society must have confidence for its ba-
sis, which is in the human sphere, what faith is in the
rehgious sphere. And it is impossible that such confi-
dence should establish itself, and control all the energies
of society, till society has been wholly plunged in the
waters of a new baptism. In a word, before society
can be taught devotion, it must be Christian. Each
person, in view of the incessant agitations of modern
society, asks, when will they cease ; each longs to as-
sign them some limit ; but no one sees distinctly any
reason why such agitation should end. Political unrest
in the elements which diffuse a general distrust, is " the
worm that never dies, the fire that is never quenched ;"
for when will selfishness find repose ? There is no
hope, except in the intervention of a harmonizing syn-
thesis, to speak the language of the new doctrines.
This is felt. After all, to what good does it come, in
this the nineteenth century, and in crowded Paris, in
quest of new religions ?* It is absurd, doubtless, to
think of making one. It would be like giving oneself
an alms out of his own purse. It is absurd, we say, to
think of making one, but it is infinitely reasonable to
look for one. Has this symptom of our times been
sufficiently studied ?

What yet remains to us of the ancient faith, keeps to-
gether crumbling societies. The Christian impulse has
perpetuated itself among doctrines which contradict it.
The Christian spirit still appears in many works of

* In France, formalism, deism, scepticism, atheism, St. Simonism,
Fourierism, sentimentalism, pan-religionism, which is simply pan-natu-
ralism, and a thousand other isms, follow thick and fast at each other's
heels. Strange that the " wise men' of that infatuated country never
Beam to think of returning to pure Christianity. — T.

THE CENTRE OF MORAL GRAVITATION. 143

modern philosophy. It perpetuates, without avowing
it, evangeHcal charity. At the same time, responding
to the cry of human want, Christianity everywhere re-
appears, fresh and beautiful, like the green earth, after a
long winter. The thirst for the " glad tidings" is felt
among those who do not know that there are " glad
tidings."* The Christianity of the apostles and martyrs,
not of philosophers and free-thinkers, the Christianity
which Huss preached four centuries ago, and the apostle
Paul eighteen centuries ago, rises again from the cata-
combs of oblivion, and, ancient as it is, it appears,
young and fresh, among the antiquities of yesterday and
the day before. It stands prepared, at the close of a
combat which perhaps may be long, to receive into its
arms society, mangled and bleeding. The whole world
joins itself to the one half of our question; for the
whole world feels that aid is needed. Ask the philoso-
phers ; they acknowledge that it is necessary, at any
risk, to issue from negations, and enter the sphere of
affirmative truths, as alone fruitful. But where are
they, except in Christianity ? We say, then, in the
name of society, to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
" Our Father, who art in heaven, thy kingdom come !"
May the author of the Philosophical Miscellanies offer
the same prayer !

* Socialism, -which pervades France and even Germany, is one of the
most striking facts of modern times. Preposterous perhaps, as a system,
it yet embodies one grand element of truth. It is the instinct and long-
ing of the soul for unity, fraternity, and repose. This is its vitality and
power. This accounts for its existence and will perpetuate it, in spite
of oppression and contempt. Christianity alone understands this instinct.
The gospel alone fairly meets and satisfies its demands. — T.

144 vinet's miscellanies.

NOTICE OF JOUFFROY.

BY THE TRANSLATOR.

M. Theodore JoufFroy, one of the most able and elo-
quent of the French philosophers of the eclectic school,
was born in 1796, and studied under Cousin, who re-
garded him with affection and admiration, as one of his
most promising pupils. Soon after the completion of his
studies, he was appointed professor of Moral Philosophy
in the faculty of Literature, in which situation he con-
tinued till his death, which occurred a few years ago.
He bestowed much attention upon the Scottish philoso-
phy, and gave to the French public an admirable trans-
lation of Dugald Stewart's " Moral Philosophy," to
which he prefixed an acute and elegant essay, on the
study of intellectual philosophy. Less bold and hazar-
dous than some of the French and German contempo-
rary philosophers, and leaning to the Scottish method,
which is simply the method of induction applied to the
facts of consciousness, Jouftroy protests, with great
earnestness, against too rapid generalizations, and mere
theories, in the domain of philosophy. He is no mate-
rialist, but clearly and beautifully develops the great
facts of our spiritual and moral nature. Inferior, it
may be, to Cousin, in the grasp of his mind, or the splen-
dor of his style, he equals that able, but somewhat
extravagant thinker, in the acuteness of his analysis,
and in the beauty, clearness, and precision of his lan-
guage. His attention, however, was directed chiefly to
moral philosophy. His views on the nature and destiny
of man, are grand and thrilling. These are developed,

NOTICE OF JOUFFROY. 145

to some extent, in his "Melanges Philosophiques,"
several of which have been well translated by Mr.
George Ripley.* In his view, the fundamental question
in ethics is, " Whether there be such a thing as good,
and such a thing as evil." Having decided this ques-
tion in the affirmative, by reference to the entire history
of man, and the clearest facts of consciousness, he pro-
ceeds to show, by an elaborate induction, that good and
evil have reference to the destiny of the individual and
of the race ; that good is what promotes, evil what hin-
ders the fulfilment of our destiny. On this ground he
proves, that the great problem of human destiny lies at
the foundation of all morality. What is man ? Whence
comes he, and whither goes he ? He has wants ; evil
presses upon him ; he has many doubts and fears ; great
and thrilling questions, pertaining to his past and his
future, press upon his attention. What is the individ-
ual man ? What is the race ? What is its origin ?
What its end? Why does it suffer? Why does it
sin ?t Can it be restored to purity and happiness ? In
a word, what is its destiny?

These questions, poetry, religion, and philosophy en-
deavor to solve. They have done so with more or less
success. The solution given by the Christian religion
seems to M. Jouffroy satisfactory, if we do not misun-
derstand him ; but the solution, in this instance, is sim-
ply practical, not scientific or philosophical, but clothed
in poetical and symbolic forms. Philosophy must still in-

* Most of the Miscellanies first appeared in the Globe, a pliilosophi-
cal Journal published in Paris.

f M. Jouffroy does not use the vrord sin, but he must certainly mean
it when he speaks of moral evil. But sin is a very expressive word of
■which the philosophers seem to be somewhat afraid.

7

146 vinet's miscellanies.

vestigate and verify, on fundamental grounds, the prin-
ciples of religion. How far M. Jouffroy concedes the
inspiration and authority of the Christian religion, it
may be difficult to say. He uniformly speaks of it with
respect, and certainly vindicates its claims to high con-
sideration, by his speculations on the Christian form of
civilization. We fear, however, that he did not regard it
as containing absolute, authoritative, and infallible truth.
This he sought in the sphere of speculative philosophy.
Did he find it there ? What light has he thrown on the
origin and destiny of man ? How does he account for
sin ; how propose to remove it ? In a word, does he
solve philosophically the sublime problems he has him-
self raised ? Every candid reader must say that he
does not. Upon some points of inquir}^, touching the
true method of philosophical study, the nature of moral
distinctions, and the history of the race, the tendencies
of the various forms of civilization, the rights and inter-
ests of individuals and of nations, he sheds some clear
light ; but as to the solution of the grand and difficult
problems referred to, he has left them very much where
he found them. Is sin accounted for, by referring it to
ignorance, or inexperience, or example ? Can man,
either as a race or as an individual, be restored to purity
and happiness, by ceasing to think of himself, in other
words, by abandoning his egoism, and living for man
as man, for the nation, for the world ? Nay, can man
be induced, by any means short of a divine regenera-
tion, to become disinterested and self-sacrificing ? Can
you transform him, by an abstraction which you call
huQianity, or the race? Can a corrupted individual,
or a corrupted society, like France, for example, amid
the convulsions of revolution, secure liberty, equality,

NOTICE OF JOUFFROY. 147

fraternity, by simply willing it, above all by fighting for
it ? The truth is, the great body of the French and
German philosophers, as events demonstrate, have not
yet taken the first step in the solution of the problem of
human renovation ; and the reason is to be found in the
fact, that they have either rejected Christianity, or sub-
jected it to the control of speculative theories.

M. Jouffroy's principles, however, as shown by Vinet,
logically carried out, resolve themselves into the
Christian solution, which gives to man a God — not a
God abstract or metaphysical, but real, vital, warm;
and not merely a God, but a Father, a friend, a redeem-
er, whose love, " shed abroad in the heart by the Holy
Ghost," produces a corresponding love, and thus reno-
vates and saves him. Thence flows true and disinter-
ested virtue, love to God and love to man, that " charity
divine" which " believeth all things, hopeth all things,
endureth all things," and, we may add, " doeth all things."
God himself has taught the august, though simple lesson
of " overcoming evil with good," of living for Him, for
ourselves, for one another, for the world ; and thus the
problem of human destiny is solved, and solved for all
time to come.

As logically necessitating such a result, M. Jouffi'oy's
disquisitions on the " Actual Condition of Humanity,"
possess a peculiar interest. In the first, he shows, that
there are " three systems of civilization, which have
founded three great families which divide the globe ;
and that these three systems of civilization are, in other
words, three difterent religions or philosophies, the
Christian, the Mohammedan, and the Braminic."

He adds, " We ought not to be surprised at this. A
real religion is nothing but a complete solution of the

148 vinet's miscellanies.

great questions which interest humanity, that is to say,
of the destiny of man, of his origin, of his future condi-
tion, of his relations to God and his fellow-men. Now,
it is by virtue of the opinions which different nations
profess on these questions, that they establish a mode
of W'Orship, a government, and laws, that they adopt
certain manners, habits, and thoughts, that they aspire
to a certain order of things, which they regard as the
ideal of the true, the beautiful, the right, and the good,
in this world."*

Hence every religion necessitates and involves a cer-
tain political organization, a certain mode of social
life, and a certain moral or attractive force.

Thus Mohammedanism, Braminism, and Christianity,
are clearly distinguished, and give rise to different spe-
cific results, visible wherever they exist and have full
scope. Varieties obtain in these several spheres, but
they have certain grand characteristic features by
which they are distinguished.

" The true and radical difference between savages
and civilized nations, consists in the fact, that the for-
mer have only crude and vague ideas on the great ques-
tions which interest humanity. Hence savages, all
over the world, are devoted to Fetichism in religion,
that is to say, they have not yet discovered the idea
of that of which they have the feeling, but not the con-
ception." This accounts for their weakness, politically
and socially, and necessitates the fact, everywhere oc-
curring, that they are destined to absorption into the
stronger civilizations.

The world, then, is subject to three different forces,
or three systems of civilization — Christianity, Bramin-

* Ripley's Translation.

NOTICE OF JOUFFROY. 149

ism, and Mohammedanism. The savage race is every
day diminishing ; one or all of the other races every-
where— in Asia, Africa, and America, by conversion,
by conquest, by general superiority of character and
force, must overrun them, take their place, or drav/
them into their ranks.

But of the three forms of civilization dominant in the
world, Christianity alone is vital, active, aggressive.
It is the only one which makes any progress at the ex-
pense of the others. The other two, once active and
powerful, have exhausted their energy. They are sta-
tionary, make no progress, gain no converts, achieve
no conquests. Neither Braminism nor Mohammedan-
ism forms colonies, gains anything by science, by re-
ligion, or the arts. Indeed, they are losing, by these
very means, every day. They exist by sufferance ; a
few powerful strokes from the stronger civilization
would dash them to pieces. They gain nothing upon
savage nations. All these are falling, under the power
of the Christian civilization. On no side do they pene-
trate into the Christian civilization ; that, however,
everywhere penetrates into them, and plants the Bible,
Christianity, civil institutions, arts and sciences, in their
very centre. " Christianity and its civilization every-
where advance, with ardor and with deliberate purpose,
into the domains of Brama and Mohammed."

The superiority of power, then, mental, moral, social,
scientific, and physical, belongs to Christianity. Thus
it advances, in every possible way, and must, eventu-
ally, plant itself on the high places of the world, and
take possession of the nations.

Christianity itself is pure, but penetrating the life of
man and the life of the nations, as a social power, it

150 vinet's miscellanies.

gives energy and impulse to all that is strongest in
man ; and as good and evil are mixed in the history and
experience of the race, the evil is evolved with the
good. But the good, by the blessing of Heaven, is des-
tined to predominate; and although revolutions and
conquests are to be dreaded in themselves, they prepare
the way for the triumph of the Christian civilization.

In the second disquisition, or rather the second
part of his disquisition, on the "Actual Condition
of Humanity," M. JoufFroy recapitulates the princi-
ples established in the first, and proceeds to consider
France, England and Germany, including the United
States, as the three great representatives of Christian
civilization — " the only ones which invent," which are
" truly enlightened," which make progress in science,
in the arts, in industry, in the accumulation of wealth,
in Christian proselytism and in conquest. Of course
Russia, though behind them, in civilization, is not left
out of the account. For her progress, such as it is, is
quite considerable, and based in its last analysis, upon
the Christian idea. He shows that each of these has
its peculiar sphere and destiny, and that their true inte-
rest, as well as the welfare of the world, demand their
union and co-operation.

Hence he infers that the most momentous question
which philosophy can propose is that of the future con-
dition of our civilization. He then complains of the
neglect of this great problem by statesmen and rulers,
shows, with a deep and stirring eloquence, that the end
of man is not animal but moral; and that it becomes
all to arouse themselves, and labor, not for narrow, local,
or selfish ends, but for the good of the whole, for man-
kind, for the world. '' We confess," says he in closing,

NOTICE OF JOUFFROY. 151

" it is particularly as philosophers that we have been
led to the examination of this great problem. Per-
suaded of the truth of the conjectures on the prospects
of Christian civilization, which have been suggested by
a view of the world, beholding in the destiny of this
civilization that of the human race, this interest pre-
dominates in our mind, over all others ; so much the
more, as, so far from excluding, it embraces and com-
prehends them. We have also been led to this inquiry
by another interest, which belongs more especially to
our philosophical studies. It is the wish to call forth a
philosophy of history on a broader scale, than has yet ap-
peared among us. It seems to us, that hitherto, we
have given our attention too exclusively to nations, and
not enough to humanity, too much to institutions, re-
ligions, and manners, and not enough to the develop-
ment of the human mind, which is the secret principle
of manners, religions, and institutions. The former
method has concealed the progress of civilization itself,
of which only isolated fragments are found in the civil-
ization of each nation. For the civilization of one nation
is not civilization; civilization itself is the succession of
different degrees of civilization ; and in order to compre-
hend its progress, we must understand the origin, the con-
nection and the development of these different degrees.
The second method has left in the shade the very prin-
ciple of civilization, which is something more profound
than institutions, than all external facts ; for all things
of this kind die and succeed each other, while civiliza-
tion never dies. This principle which we have illus-
trated connects together all institutions, all religions,
all diversities of manners, all forms of humanity, and re-
duces them to being mere events in history. This es-

152 vinet's miscellanies.

sentially simplifies the history of humanity, and gives
it a physiognomy, a unity, and a charm altogether
new."*

It is a matter of regret, that M. Jouffroy did not di-
rect his attention to the fact of the great diversities of
character, power, and progress among the different
nations, which are included in the Christian civiliza-
tion, and that he did not give the rationale of the vast
superiority of the protestant element. f None can deny
that the Anglo-Saxon race, including the free protes-
tant communities, are gradually gaining upon the others
in stabiUty, freedom, and attractive force, and that the
high probability now is that they are yet to control the
world. They now possess and control, with slight ex-
ceptions, the whole western hemisphere. They occupy
the centre of the eastern, and wield the greatest com-
mercial and social influence in Europe.

Above all, how mournful the fact, that Jouffroy ac-
tually stops short at the very threshold of his own
mighty problem. For the question yet recurs, if Chris-
tianity be the strongest power in the world, what is its
fundamental principle ? Is it divine, is it capable of
universal and permanent application ? In a word, is it
life to the individual, is it life to the race ? If it be such,
then is it true, infallibly and eternally true. For the
solution, which Jouffroy left untouched, we refer our
readers to Vinet's brief but suggestive essay.

* Ripley's Translation.

f As a Frenchman, perhaps this was impossible. The national vanity
of nearly all French writers, inordinate even in Cousin and other philo-
sophic thinkers, blinds them to the real character of their countrymen,
the defects of which are obvious to the world.

THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND THE RELIGION

OF GOD.

" Things which have not entered into the heart of man."— 1 Cor. ii. 9,

Man has separated himself from God. The storms
of passion have broken the mysterious cable which held
the vessel in port. Shaken to its base, and feeling it-
self driven upon unknown seas, it seeks to rebind itself
to the shore ; it endeavors to renew its broken strands ;
it makes a desperate effort to re-establish those connec-
tions, without which it can have neither peace nor se-
curity. In the midst of his greatest wanderings, man
never loses the idea of his origin and destiny ; a dim
recollection of his ancient harmony pursues and agitates
him; and without renouncing his passions, without
ceasing to love sin, he longs to re-attach his being, full
of darkness and misery, to something luminous and
peaceful, his fleeting life to something immovable and
eternal. In a word, God has never ceased to be the
want of the human race. Alas ! their homage wanders
from its proper object, their worship becomes depraved,
their piety itself is impious ; the religions which cover
the earth are an insult to the unknown God, who is their
object. But in the midst of these monstrous aberra-
tions, a sublime instinct is revealed ; and each of these

7*

154 vinet's miscellanies.

false religions is a painful cry of the soul, torn from its
centre and separated from its object. It is a despoiled
existence, which, in seeking to clothe itself, seizes upon
the first rags it finds ; it is a disordered spirit, which,
in the ardor of its thirst, plunges, all panting, into fetid
and troubled waters ; it is an exile, who, in seeking the
road to his native land, buries himself in frightful des-
erts.

From the brutal savage, who kisses the dust from the
feet of some hideous idol, to the magi of the East, ador-
ing in the sun the immortal soul of nature, and the prin-
ciple of all existence, from the primitive people who
offer to him the first fruits of their harvests, to those un-
happy nations who think to render him homage by the
most shameful excesses, the religious principle every-
where makes itself known. Man cannot renounce
either his sins or God ; his corruption chains him to this
world, a mysterious instinct impels him towards that
which is invisible. Between these two opposing forces
he makes no choice ; he attempts to reconcile two in-
compatible elements ; he mingles his morals with his
devotion ; he makes gods resembling himself, in order
to offer them a worship analogous to his own evil
thoughts ; he erects even his vices into divinities ; his
religion becomes the faithful mirror of his natural cor-
ruption ; in a word, he degrades the idea of the Divin-
ity, but he cannot do without it ; and he prefers infamous
gods rather than adore nothing.

But what do all these different religions procure for
him? Nothing but a torment added to all his other
torments ; a painful, humiliating subjection ; frequently
the necessity to do violence to the most cherished feel-
ings of his nature ; no solid hope ; no internal repose ;

THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND OF GOD. 155

no moral perfection ; such is the value of that mysterioug
instinct, a species of importunate craving which he can
neither stifle nor satisfy. So that he who looks upon
religion in the various terrestrial forms with which it has
clothed itself, might say, with an appearance of reason,
that it is one of the greatest evils which nature has in-
flicted on humanity.

These fabulous creeds, it is true, disappear before
Christianity ; for the least eflfect of that august religion,
is to produce a disgust with all others. No new wor-
ship will estabhsh itself on the earth ; the field of inven-
tion in the matter of positive religions is irrevocably en-
closed. But in the shadow of Christianity, and in the
very bosom of the church itself, there flourish certain
religions, without a history, without form and name,
which, to many persons, take the place of Christianity.
These religions, which owe more to it than their vota-
ries imagine, are nothing more than an effort of the dif-
ferent faculties of the soul, of their own accord, to put
themselves in communication with the Deity. It is the
imagination, the sentiment, the reason and the con-
science, seeking together, or each by itself, to satisfy the
longing they have for God. And it is worthy of remark,
that these different religions are particularly those of
cultivated minds, who wish to find a neutral ground be-
tween Christianity, which appears to them too simple
and unintellectual, and atheism, by which they are ap-
palled. But let us inquire if these religions are better
fitted than gross paganism to satisfy the various wants
of the human soul.

What, in reference to religion, are the wants of man ?
He is ignorant of divine things ; he needs a religion to
enlighten him. He is unhappy from the evils of this

156 vinet's miscellanies.

life, and the uncertainty of his future destiny : he needs
a relimon to console him. In fine, he is a sinner ; he
needs a rehgion to regenerate him. Let us seek these
various characteristics in the four rehgions of the ima-
gination, the intellect, the sentiment, and the conscience.

To some, the Deity is revealed only in that which is
fitted to strike the imagination. It is not the essence
of the Being of beings, his moral character, or his will,
which chiefly occupies their attention, but that part of his
being by means of which he is rendered, in some meas-
ure, visible to our eyes. It is the universe, that is to say,
time, space, forms, in which are reflected his eternity,
his greatness, and his power. If the spectacles of na-
ture in themselves are grand and sublime, how much
are they elevated by the idea of that Word which called
from nothing all their magnificence ; of that Intelligence
which presides over all its mighty movements, which
encloses as many wonders in the worm that dies under
our feet, as in the formation and government of suns !
What charm and what beauty are added to the splendor
of the starry heavens, to the savage harmony of the ra-
ging seas, to the smiling landscape of fields and woods
under the beams of the morning sun, by the thought of
the universal Spirit which silently circulates through
all beings, and which seems to reveal its immortal ex-
istence, and utter its voice divine, amid all the motions
and all the sounds of the universe ! So that, frequently,
man, absorbed in the contemplation of these wonders,
unites himself, by his enthusiasm, to the concert of the
creation ; his imagination feasts on the idea of God, and
he believes himself to possess religion.

The imagination, the reason, the sensibility, the con-
science, however, are four altars set up, between which

THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND OF GOD. 157

the sacred flame is divided ; but imagination is not the
whole of man ; it is not, by far, his best part. When
the imagination has been excited in this way, is man
any more Uke God ? Is he more worthy of God ? And
not to go even so far, has he more of peace or consola-
tion ? No ! the charm is evanescent ; from those
heights to which imagination raises him, man falls back
upon himself, and finds not God there ; and the august
spectacles in which he has mingled, only make him feel
the enormous disproportion between the universe so full
of God, and his soul so void of God.

Others, in smaller number, seek to bring themselves
into union with the Divinity by intelligence. To ana-
lyze the divine attributes, to harmonize them, to explain
the connection of the Creator with the creation ; in a
word, to form, with reference to God and divine things,
a body of systematic doctrine, is the task they impose
upon themselves ; and such labors, it must be confessed,
are a noble exercise of thought. But a principal defect
of this form of relio;ion is. that it is less a religion than
a study. Ordinarily the man who stops here seeks less
to satisfy a want of his heart than a curiosity of his
mind. Abstracted from himself, isolating himself from
the things he contemplates, in order the better to contem-
plate them, application, practice, his personal relations
to these high truths, occupy his attention but feebly ;
he acquires some additional ideas, but these ideas pro-
duce in him neither emotion nor change. And, indeed,
how can he be changed by the things w^hich always
remain uncertain to his mind ? The field of religious
ideas, when it is trodden by the foot of natural reason,
is only one of problems and contradictions. The far-
ther one advances, the more his darkness increases ;

158 vinet's miscellanies.

and he ends by losing even those primary notions and
instinctive beUefs which he possessed before he entered
it. This is the experience of all the systems of all the
schools in every age of the world. The history of phi-
losophy teaches us that these investigations, whenever
eagerly and incautiously pursued, lead to the most ter-
rible doubts, to the very borders of the abyss. It is
there, face to face with the infinite, the philosopher sees
realities dissolve, certainties the most universal vanish,
his own personality become a problem ! There he sees
world and thought, observation and observer, man and
God, swallowed up and lost, before his terrified vision,
in the boundless immensity of a horrible chaos ! It is
there that, seized with a mysterious dread, he asks back,
with anxious emotion, the world of finite beings and in-
telligible ideas, which he wishes he had never abandoned.
Thus his religion, all thought, neither enlightens, con-
verts, nor consoles him ; and he finds himself as far
removed from his aim as before his laborious investiga-
tions.*

* That speculative philosophy has been a fruitful source of scepticism
and irreligion, no one at all acquainted with its history will deny. The
class of philosophers of whom Benedict Spinoza and G. "W. F. Hegel are
fair representatives, have generally rejected the Christian faith, and not
only so, but the existence of a personal God, and the immortality of the
soul. Nor is this a matter of surprise ; for they transcend the boundaries
of all fair and legitimate inquiry. Contemning the slow and laborious
investigation of facts and evidence, as emphical and shallow, and specu-
lating fearlessly upon

" Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute,"

they lose themselves in the untried and desolate regions which lie beyond
the limits of hunian inquiry. Now they seem to make everything mat-
ter ; then they seem to make every tiling mmd : anon they talk learnedly
' of " the whole," as if nature were God, and God nature, without any dis-

THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND OF GOD. 159

Feeling this, many persons reject these idle specula-
tions and acknowledge no religion but that of sentiment.
This, they say, is good ; and certainly, all religion that
proceeds not from the heart is sterile and vain. Let us,
however, examine. We are speaking of a religion of
sentiment. Without doubt this sentiment is love, and
a love which has God for its object : in which case it
must be acknowledged that the best kind of religion is
also the rarest, or that the love spoken of is a feeling

tinction, except that which exists bet-ween the absolute and relative, the
real and phenomenal. Occasionally they appear to admit the existence
of an independent and personal God, at other times to deny it altogether.
They spurn the common, and especially the Cliiistian notion of a supreme
Jehovah, distinct from and superior to aU the works of the creation, and
adopting a profounder strain, represent the Deity as the eternal move-
ment of the universal principle, " the ever-streaming immanence of spirit
in matter, which constantly manifests itself in individual existences, and
which has no true objective (real) existence but in these individuals,
wliich pass away again into the infinite." These are the sentiments of
Strauss, author of the " Lehen Jesu" whose rejection of a historical
Cliristianity is the legitimate fruit of his speculative philosophy, just as a
similar rejection of the Chiistian miracles, and particularly the mu-acle
of Chi-ist's resurrection, by Theodore Parker, is the fruit of the meta-
physical system, which, as he remarks himself, " underlies" his theology.
"Strauss," says Professor Tholuck, in his " Anzeiger," for May, 1836, "is
a man who knows no other God than him who, in the himian race, is
constantly becoming man. He knows no Christ but the Jewish rabbi
who made liis confession of sin to John the Baptist ; and no heaven but
that which speculative philosophy reveals for our enjoyment on the Uttle
planet we now inliabit." To the same purpose is Strauss's own Ian
guage : — " As man, considered as a mere finite spirit, and restricted to
himself, has no reality, so God, considered as an infinite Spirit, restrict-
ing himself to his infinity, has no reality. The uifinite Spirit has reality
only so far as he unites liimself to finite spirits, (or manifests liimself in
them,) and the finite spirit has reahty only so far as he sinks himself in
the infinite." — Lehen Jesu, p. 730.

Such is the last result of that boasted pliilosophy, which begins by
explaining everything, and ends with doubting everything. — T.

160 vinet's miscellanies.

exceedingly barren, an affection, so to speak, without
result. Many great things are done on the earth, things
at least that men call great. The activity of the mind
jesponds to the activity of outward life. Each day
sees some new plans brought to light, some new enter-
prises begun. But amid all these actions, form an esti-
mate of those which have for their principle the love of
God, and you will admit, if the religion of love be the
best, it is not the practice of a great number. In fact,
the love of God, if by this you mean a love, real, earnest,
dominant, is not natural to the heart of man. And, let
us be honest ; how can we love, with such a love, a God
from whom we are far removed by our sins and the
worldliness of our affections ; a God who, in our better
moments, cannot appear to us except in the aspect of a
judge ; a God, whose paternal providence is veiled from
our minds, because we know no better, or do not know
at all, the adorable secret of all his procedure toward
us ? How can we love him. so long as we cannot ac-
count for the disorders of the physical and the moral
worlds, and while the universe appears to us a vast
arena, in which chance puts in competition justice and
injustice, and coldly decides between them ? A doubt,
a single doubt on the end of life and the intentions of
God, would serve to tarnish, nay more, to extinguish, in
the anxious heart, the first germs of love. But this is,
more or less, the condition we are in, without the light
of revelation. To what, then, is love reduced, and, by
consequence, the religion of sentiment, in the greater
number of the persons who appear to have approached
the nearest to its attainment ? What ! does he, think
you, love God, who opens his heart merely to the fugi-
tive emotion which is excited by the view of his benefi-

THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND OF GOD. 161

cence spread over the whole face of nature ? Does he
love him, who, following the degree of sensibility with
which he is endowed, yields to an involuntary tender-
ness, at the thought of that immense paternity which
embraces all animated beings, from the seraph to the
worm ? One may experience this kind of love, and never
be changed. If anything is evident, it is that the sensibil-
ity which sometimes overflows in tears, often leaves in
the heart a large place for selfishness ; just as our fellow-
men do not always derive any advantage from the ten-
derness we have felt at a distance from them. Love,
true love of God, is a love of his truth, of his holiness,
of his entire will ; true love is that which is reflected in
obedience ; that which renews and purifies the con-
science.

This brings us to the fourth religion which man makes
for himself, that of conscience. It is well, then, if in our
turn we can say, this is good. For what is conscience,
but the impulse to do the will of God, and to resemble
him ? And what do we want when we have arrived at
this ? Let us congratulate those who cleave to the re-
ligion of conscience, and regret that their number is so
small. But what am I saying ? Congratulate them !
Let us think a little ! Have we reflected on the course
that opens before them ? The religion of conscience !
Is it not that which commands us to live for God, to do
nothing but for God ; to devote ourselves, body and
soul, entirely to Him ? Is it not that which teaches us
that to refuse anything to Him, is to rob Him ; because,
by sovereign right, everything within and without us
belongs to Him ? Is it not that which teaches that we
cannot do too much for Him, and that all our future
efforts can never compensate for a single past neglect ?

162 vinet's miscellanies.

Is it not that, then, which condemns our hfe, absolutely
and irrevocably, and presents us before Him, not as
children, not even as supplicants, but as condemned
criminals ? Say, then, if the religion of conscience is
good ! Yes ! for consciences free, indulgent to them-
selves, without delicacy, and without purity ; but the
greater your attachment to your duties, the more scru-
pulous you are to fulfil them, the more severe and com-
plete the idea you have formed of the divine law, the
more shall that religion be terrible to you ; and, so far
from offering you consolations, it will take away from
you, one by one, all those you might derive from your-
selves. Quit, for a moment, the scenes of the present,
and the circle of Christianity ; observe, at a glance, the
religion of mankind, enter all their temples, look upon
all their altars ; — what do you see ? Blood ! Blood to
honor the Deity ! Ah ! we are compelled to say that
blood is there, for a thousand virtues neglected, a thou-
sand obligations broken, a thousand enormities commit-
ted ; that blood is the cry of a thousand consciences,
which demand, from their entire nature, an impossible
reparation, that blood is the solemn and terrible ac-
knowledgment of the truths I urge upon you. And
would you form an idea of this need of expiation ?
Know then, that the impossibility of solving the problem
the anguish of turning forever in a circle, without issue,
has driven man to a kind of despair, a despair which has
become barbarous. For the sake of finding a worthy
victim, man has recourse to man himself — human blood
has flowed in the temples, and the torment has not
ceased ; human blood has effaced nothing ! To what
victim, then, should man resort ? To a God ? But
how should such a thing enter into the heart of man ?

THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND OF GOD. 163

We have passed in review all the systems of religion
which would seem possible without Christianity. We
think we have presented them with fidelity ; we have
done them justice ; we have taken nothing from them.
We might have demanded from them an account of
what they owe to Christianity, and caused them to do
honor to that holy religion, by a greater part of what
they possess of what is specious, good and interesting,
but we have abstained from that; we have confined
ourselves, without further examination, to showing you
the strength and the weakness of these systems. You
are now, therefore, in a condition to pronounce judgment
upon them. So far as it relates to us, here is our con-
clusion. In vain has man, in his search of the supreme
good, called into exercise his reason, his imagination,
his heart and his conscience ; in vain has he laid all his
powers under contribution ; in vain has he done all
that it is possible for man to do ; everywhere in his sys-
tems there appear chasms wide and deep. The triple
object of all religion, to enlighten, console and regene-
rate, is fulfilled neither by the one nor the other of these
religions, nor by all of them together. Is the religion of
the imagination the subject of inquiry ? That is the charm
of a few fugitive moments ; it is neither the light, the
support, nor the sanctification of the soul. Do we try
the religion of thought ? Its only reasonable pretension
is to enlighten ; but it fulfils it so badly, that it does
nothing more than deepen the gloom which rests on
religion. Do we address ourselves to the religion of
sentiment ? It moves the surface of the soul ; it does
not reach its depths, it does not regenerate it. In fine,
the best of all these religions, that of conscience, by its
very excellence, demonstrates the impotence of man to

164 vinet's miscellanies.

form a religion for himself It can only show us the
chasm which sin has made between us and God ; but it
cannot fill it up. It teaches us, that in order to be
united to God, two things are necessary, which it does
not give us, and which none of our faculties can give
us, — Pardon and Regeneration. The man who pre-
tends to accomplish, by his own power, the work of his
salvation, must first pardon and then regenerate him-
self It is necessary he should efface the very last ves-
tige of all his former sins, that is to say, that he should
do what cannot be done. It is moreover necessary,
that, declaring war with his nature, he should force it
to love God, to love the good, to hate the evil ; that he
should renew his inclinations from their foundation ; in
a word, that he should destroy the old man, and create
in himself the new. To ask you, if you can do such
things, is to ask, if a criminal, alone in the bottom of
his dungeon, can provide his own letters of pardon, or
a combatant, chained hand and foot, can promise him-
self the victory. It is to ask you, if you can do that
to-morrow, which you cannot do to-day ; it is to ask
you, if it will ever be possible, with the powers of your
nature alone, to re-make that nature.

Nevertheless, there is not without this, a religion
complete and satisfying, — say rather there is no religion
at all. And without this, you have reason to believe
yourselves abandoned by God. Ah, why should you
not turn your attention to that gospel, which seems to
have divined all the secrets of your nature, and which
meets all the wants of your soul ? Why should not
the view of the cross, where your pardon is written, the
promise of the Holy Spirit, source of Regeneration,
cause you to leap for joy ! Why should you not with

THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND OF GOD. 165

ardor, desire that the doctrine which remedies all, harmo-
nizes all, satisfies all, should be as true as it is beautiful ?
Why can you give yourselves a moment's repose, before
you enlighten your minds respecting it, by all the means
in your power ? If such a religion has not been given
to man, he must die ; yes, die of grief for having been
condemned to live, — die of grief for having been formed
with insatiable desires after perfection, with an ardent
thirst for God, and to feel that these desires, and this
thirst, are only a cruel deception, a fatal mockery of
the unknown power that created us !

But shall I hear from Christians, not the joyous ac-
cents of souls convinced, but the anxious appeals of
hearts that are doubting still ? No ! let us together
hail with our benedictions, that religion, alone complete,
w^hich responds to all the wants of man, in offering to
each of his faculties an inexhaustible aliment ; a religion
of the imagination, to which it offers magnificent pros-
pects ; a religion of the heart, which it softens by the
exhibition of a love above all love ; a religion of thought,
which it attaches to the contemplation of a system, the
most vast and harmonious ; a religion of the conscience,
which it renders at once more delicate and tranquil ;
but above all, a religion of the grace and love of God ;
for it is necessarily all these combined. Why should
not the truth entire, satisfy man entire ? Let us hail,
with admiration, that religion which reconciles all these
contrasts, a religion of justice and grace, of fear and
love, of obedience and liberty, of activity and repose,
of faith and reason ; for if error has cut up and divided
everything in man, if it has made of his soul a vast
scene of contradictions, truth brings back all into unity.
Such is the religion which never entered into the heart

166 '. vinet's miscellanies.

of man, even' in the highest culture of his moral sense,
and the most extensive development of his intelligence ;
or, as the apostle expresses it, "which none of the
princes of this world have known."

That which remained concealed from philosophers
and sages, in the most brilliant periods of the human
intellect, twelve poor fishermen, from the lakes of Ju-
dea, quitted their nets to announce to the world. Cer-
tainly they had not more of imagination, of reason, of
heart, or of conscience, than the rest of mankind ; yet
they put to silence the wisdom of sages, emptied the
schools of philosophers, closed the gates of every tem-
ple, extinguished the fire on every altar. They exhib-
ited to the world their crucified Master, and the world
recognized in him that which their anxious craving had
sought in vain for three thousand years. A new moral-
ity, new social relations, and a new universe sprang
into being, at the voice of these poor people, ignorant
of letters, and of all philosophy. It remains with your
good sense to judge, if these twelve fishermen have
used their own wisdom, or the wisdom which cometh
from above.

We stop at this point, — man is found incapable of
forming a religion, and God has come to the aid of his
w^eakness. Bless, then, your God from the bottom of
your heart, you, who after long search, have, at last,
found an asylum. And you who still float on the vast
sea of human opinions, you who, violently driven from
one system to another, feel your anguish increasing,
and your heart becoming more and more tarnished;
you who to this day have never been able to live with
God, nor without God, — come and see, if this gospel,
scarcely noticed by your heedless eyes, is not perhaps

THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND OF GOD. 167

that, for which you call with so many fruitless sighs.
And, thou, God of the gospel ! God of nations ! Infinite
Love ! reveal thyself to wounded hearts, make thyself
known to fainting spirits, and cause them to know joy,
peace, and true virtue.

THE MSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY.

" Things which have not entered into the heart of man."— 1 Cor. 11. 9.

We have seen that we are not in a condition to give
ourselves a religion, and that God, in his goodness, has
condescended to aid our weakness. But the reason of
man does not voluntarily permit itself to be convinced
of impotence ; it does not willingly suffer its limits to
be prescribed ; it is strongly tempted to reject ideas
which it has not conceived, a religion which it has not
invented ; and if the doctrines proposed to it are, in
their nature, mysterious and incomprehensible, this feel-
ing of dissatisfaction proceeds to open revolt, and in
the case of many, results in an obstinate scepticism.

I do not comprehend, therefore I do not believe ; the
gospel is full of mysteries, therefore I do not receive the
gospel ; — such is one of the favorite arguments of infi-
delity. To see how much is made of this, and what
confidence it inspires, we might believe it solid, or, at
least specious ; but it is neither the one nor the other ;
it will not bear the slightest attention, the most super-
ficial examination of reason ; and if it still enjoys some
favor in the world, this is but a proof of the lightness
of our judgments upon things worthy of our most seri-
ous attention.

THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 169

Upon what, in fact, does this argument rest ? Upon
the claim of comprehending everything in the rehgion
which God has offered or could offer us. A claim
equally unjust, unreasonable, useless. This we proceed
to develop.

In the first place, it is an unjust claim. It is to de-
mand of God what he does not owe us. To prove this,
let us suppose that God has given a religion to man, and
let us further suppose that religion to be the Gospel ;
for this absolutely changes nothing to the argument.
We mav believe that God was free, at least, with ref-
erence to us, to give us or not to give us a religion ;
but it must be admitted that in granting it, he contracts
engagements to us, and that the first favor lays him un-
der a necessity of conferring other favors. For this is
merely to say, that God must be consistent, and that
he finishes what he has begun. Since it is by a writ-
ten revelation he manifests his designs respecting us, it
is necessary he should fortify that revelation by all the
authoritv which would at least determine us to re-

si

ceive it ; it is necessary he should give us the means of
judging whether the men who speak to us in his name
are really sent by him ; in a word, it is necessary we
should be assured that the Bible is truly the word of
God.

It would not indeed be necessary that the conviction
of each of us should be gained by the same kind of evi-
dence. Some shall be led to Christianity by the his-
torical or external arguments ; they shall prove to
themselves the truth of the Bible, as the truth of all
history is proved ; they shall satisfy themselves that
the books of which it it is composed are certainly those
of the times and of the authors to which they are as-

8

170 vinet's miscellanies.

cribed. This settled, they shall compare the prophe-
cies contained in these ancient documents with the
events that have happened in subsequent ages ; they
shall assure themselves of the reality of the miraculous
facts related in these books, and shall thence infer the
necessary intervention of divine power, which alone
disposes the forces of nature, and can alone interrupt or
modify their action. Others, less fitted for such investiga-
tions, shall be struck with the internal evidence of the
Holy Scriptures. Finding there the state of their souls
perfectly described, their wants fully expressed, and the
true remedies for their maladies completely indicated ;
struck with a character of truth and candor which
nothing can imitate ; in fine, feeling themselves in their
inner nature moved, changed, renovated, by the myste-
rious influence of these holy writings, they shall acquire,
by such means, a conviction of which they cannot
always give an account to others, but which is not the
less legitimate, irresistible, and immovable. Such is
the double road by which an entrance is gained into
the asylum of faith. But it was due from the wisdom
of God, from his justice, and, we venture to say it, from
the honor of his government, that he should open to
man this double road ; for, if he desired man to be
saved by knowledge, on the same principle, he engaged
himself to furnish him the means of knowledge.

Behold, whence come the obligations of the Deity
with reference to us, — which obligations he has fulfilled.
Enter on this double method of proof. Interrogate his-
tory, time and places, respecting the authenticity of the
Scriptures ; grasp all the difficulties, sound all the objec-
tions ; do not permit yourselves to be too easily con-
vinced : be the more severe upon that book, as it pro-

THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 171

fesses to contain the sovereign rule of your life, and the
disposal of your destiny ; you are permitted to do this,
nay, you are encouraged to do it, provided you proceed
to the investigation with the requisite capacities and
v^^ith pure intentions. Or, if you prefer another method,
examine, with an honest heart, the contents of the
Scriptures ; inquire, while you run over the words of
Jesus, if ever man spake like this man ; inquire if the
wants of your soul, long deceived, and the anxieties of
your spirit, long cherished in vain, do not, in the teach-
ing and work of Christ, find that satisfaction and repose
which no wisdom was ever able to procure you ; breathe,
if I may thus express myself, that perfume of truth, of
candor and purity, which exhales from every page of the
gospel ; see, if, in all these respects, it does not bear the
undeniable seal of inspiration and divinity. Finally,
test it, and if the gospel produces upon you a contrary
effect, return to the books and the wisdom of men, and
ask of them what Christ has not been able to give you.
But, if, neglecting these two w^ays, made accessible to
you, and trodden by the feet of ages, you desire, before
all, that the Christian religion should, in every point,
render itself comprehensible to your mind, and compla-
cently strip itself of all mysteries ; if you wish to pene-
trate beyond the veil, to find there, not the aliment
which gives life to the soul, but that which would gratify
your restless curiosity, I maintain that you raise against
God a claim the most indiscreet, the most rash and un-
just ; for he has never engaged, either tacitly or expressly,
to discover to you the secret which your eye craves ;
and such audacious importunity is fit only to excite his
indignation. He has given you what he owed you, more
indeed than he owed vou ; — the rest is with himself

172 vinet's miscellanies.

If a claim so unjust could be admitted, where, I ask
you, would be the limit of your demands ? Already
you require more from God than he has accorded to
angels ; for these eternal mysteries which trouble you, —
the harmony of the divine prescience with human free-
dom,— the origin of evil and its inetfable remedy, — the
incarnation of the eternal Word, — the relations of the
God-man with his Father, — the atoning virtue of his
sacrifice, — the regenerating efficacy of the Spirit-com-
forter,— all these things are secrets, the knowledge
of which is hidden from angels themselves, who, ac-
cording to the word of the apostle, stoop to explore
their depths, and cannot. If you reproach the Eternal
for having kept the knowledge of these divine myste-
ries to himself, why do you not reproach him for the
thousand other limits he has prescribed to you ? Why
not reproach him for not having given you wings like
a bird, to visit the regions which till now have been
scanned only by your eyes ? Why not reproach him
for not giving you, besides the five senses with which you
are provided, ten other senses which he has perhaps
granted to other creatures, and which procure for them
perceptions of which you have no idea ? Why not, in
fine, reproach him for having caused the darkness of night
to succeed the brightness of day invariably on the earth ?
Ah ! you do not reproach him for that. You love that
night which brings rest to so many fatigued bodies and
weary spirits ; which suspends, in so many wretches,
the feeling of grief ; — that night, during which orphans,
slaves, and criminals cease to be, because over all their
misfortunes and sufferings it spreads, with the opiate of
sleep, the thick veil of oblivion ; you love that night,
which, peopling the deserts of the heavens with ten

THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 173

thousand stars, not known to the day, reveals the infi-
nite to our ravished imagination. Well, then, why do
you not, for a similar reason, love the night of divine
mysteries, — night, gracious and salutary, in which rea-
son humbles itself, and finds refreshment and repose ;
where the darkness even is a revelation ; where one of
the principal attributes of God, immensity, discovers it-
self much more fully to our mind ; where, in fine, the
tender relations he has permitted us to form with him-
self, are guarded from all admixture of familiarity, by the
thought that the Being who has humbled himself to us,
is, at the same time, the inconceivable God who reigns
before all time, who includes in himself all existences
and all conditions of existence, the centre of all thought,
the law of all law, the supreme and final reason of
everything ! So that, if you are just, instead of re-
proaching him for the secrets of religion, you will bless
him that he has enveloped you in mysteries.

But this claim is not only unjust towards God ; it is
also in itself exceedingly unreasonable.

What is religion ? It is God putting himself in com-
munication with man ; the Creator with the creature,
the infinite with the finite. There already, w^ithout
going further, is a mystery ; a mystery common to all
religions, impenetrable in all religions. If, then, every-
thing which is a mystery offends you, you are arrested
on the threshold, I will not say of Christianity, but of
every religion ; I say, even of that religion which is
called natural, because it rejects revelation and mira-
cles ; for it necessarily implies, at the very least, a con-
nection, a communication of some sort between God
and man, — the contrary being equivalent to atheism.
Your claim prevents you from having any belief; and

174 vinet's miscellanies.

because you have not been willing to be Christians, it
will not allow you to be deists.

" It is of no consequence," you say, " we pass over
that difficulty ; we suppose between God and us connec-
tions we cannot conceive ; we admit them because they
are necessary to us. But this is the only step we are wil-
ling to take : we have already yielded too much to yield
more." Say more, — say you have granted too much not
to grant much more, not to grant all ! You have con-
sented to admit, without comprehending it, that there
may be communications from God to you, and from you
to God. But consider well what is implied in such a
supposition. It implies that you are dependent, and
yet free, — this you do not comprehend ; — it implies that
the Spirit of God can make itself understood by your
spirit, — this you do not comprehend ; — it implies that
your prayers may exert an influence on the will of
God, — this you do not comprehend. It is necessary
you should receive all these mysteries, in order to es-
tablish with God connections the most vague and super-
ficial, and by the very side of which atheism is placed.
And when, by a powerful effort with yourselves, you
have done so much as to admit these mysteries, you re-
coil from those of Christianity ! You have accepted the
foundation, and refuse the superstructure ! You have ac-
cepted the principle and refuse the details ! You are
right, no doubt, so soon as it is proved to you, that the
religion which contains these mysteries does not come
from God ; or rather, that these mysteries contain contra-
dictory ideas. But you are not justified in denying them,
for the sole reason that you do not understand them ; and
the reception you have given to the first kind of myste-
ries compels you, by the same rule, to receive the others.

THE xMYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 175

This is not all. Not only are mysteries an insepa-
rable part, nay, the very substance of all religion ; but it
is absolutely impossible that a true religion should not
present a great number of mysteries. If it is true, it
ought to teach more truths respecting God and divine
things, than any other, than all others together ; but
each of these truths has a relation to the infinite, and
by consequence, borders on a mystery. How should
it be otherwise in religion, when it is thus in nature it-
self ? Behold God in nature ! The more he gives us
to contemplate, the more he gives to astonish us. To
each creature is attached some mystery. A grain of
sand is an abyss ! Now, if the manifestation which
God has made of himself in nature suggests to the ob-
server a thousand questions which cannot be answered,
how will it be, when to that first revelation, another is
added ; when God the Creator and Preserver reveals
himself under new aspects as God the Reconciler and
Saviour ? Shall not mysteries multiply with discover-
ies ? With each new day, shall we not see associated
a new night ? And shall we not purchase each increase
of knowledge with an increase of ignorance ? Has not
the doctrine of grace, so necessary, so consoling, alone
opened a profound abyss, into which, for eighteen cen-
turies, rash and restless spirits have been constantly
plunging ?

It is, then, clearly necessary that Christianity should,
more than any other religion, be mysterious, simply be-
cause it is true. Like mountains, which, the higher
they are, cast the larger shadows, the gospel is the more
obscure and mysterious on account of its sublimity.
After this, will you be indignant that you do not com-
prehend everything in the gospel ? It would, forsooth,

176 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

be a truly surprising thing, if the ocean could not be
held in the hollow of your hand, or uncreated wisdom
within the limits of your intelligence ! It would be truly
unfortunate, if a finite being could not embrace the in-
finite, and that, in the vast assemblage of things, there
should be some idea beyond its grasp ! In other words,
it would be truly unfortunate, if God himself should
know something which man does not know !

Let us acknowledge, then, how insensate is such a
claim when it is made with reference to religion.

But let us also recollect how much, in making such a
claim, we shall be in opposition to ourselves ; for the
submission we dislike in religion, we cherish in a thou-
sand other things. It happens to us every day to ad-
mit things we do not understand ; and to do so with-
out the least repugnance. The things, the knowledge
of which is refused us, are much more numerous than
we perhaps think. Few diamonds are perfectly pure ;
still fewer truths are perfectly clear. The union of
our soul with our body is a mystery ; our most familiar
emotions and affections are a mystery ; the action of
thought and of will is a mystery ; our very existence is
a mystery. Why do we admit these various facts ? Is
it because we understand them ? No, certainly, but be-
cause they are self-evident, and because they are truths
by which we live. In religion we have no other course
to take. We ought to know whether it is true and
necessary ; and once convinced of these two points,
we ought, like the angels, to submit to the necessity of
being ignorant of some things.

And why do we not submit cheerfully to a privation,
which after all is not one ? To desire the knowledge
of mysteries is to desire what is utterly useless ; it is

THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 177

to raise, as I have said before, a claim the most vain and
idle. What, in reference to us, is the object of the gos-
pel ? Evidently to regenerate and save us. But it at-
tains this end wholly by the things it reveals. Of what
use would it be to know those it conceals from us ?
We possess the knowledge which can enlighten our con-
sciences, rectify our inclinations, renew our hearts ;
what should we gain, if we possessed other knowledge ?
It infinitely concerns us to know that the Bible is the
w^ord of God ; does it equally concern us to know in
what way the holy men that wrote it were moved by
the Holy Ghost ? It is of infinite moment to us to
know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God ; need we
know precisely in what way the divine and human
natures are united in his adorable person ? It is of in-
finite importance for us to know that unless we are
born again we cannot enter the kingdom of God, and
that the Holy Spirit is the author of the new birth ; — ■
shall we be further advanced if we know the divine pro-
cess by which that wonder is performed ? Is it not
enough for us to know the truths that save ? Of what
use, then, would it be to know those which have not the
slightest bearing on our salvation ? " Though I know
all mysteries," says St. Paul, " and have not charity,
I am nothing." St. Paul was content not to know,
provided he had charity ; shall not we, following his ex-
ample, be content also without knowledge, provided that,
like him, we have charity, that is to say, life ?

But some one will say, If the knowledge of mysteries
is really without influence on our salvation, why have
they been indicated to us at all ? What if it should
be to teach us not to be too prodigal of our ^oherefores !
if it should be to serve as an exercise of our faith, a

8*

178 vinet's miscellanies.

test of our submission ! But we will not stop with such
a reply.

Observe, I pray you, in what manner the mysteries
of which you complain have taken their part in religion.
You readily perceive they are not by themselves, but
associated with truths which have a direct bearing on
your salvation. They contain them, they serve to en-
velop them ; but they are not themselves the truths
that save. It is with these mysteries as it is with the
vessel that contains a medicinal draught ; it is not the
vessel that cures, but the draught ; yet the draught
could not be presented without the vessel. Thus each
truth that saves is contained in a mystery, which, in it-
self, has no power to save. So the great work of ex-
piation is necessarily attached to the incarnation of the
Son of God, which is a mystery; so the sanctifying
graces of the new covenant are necessarily connected
with the effluence of the Holy Spirit, which is a mys-
tery ; so, too, the divinity of religion finds a seal and
an attestation in the miracles, which are mysteries.
Everywhere the light is born from darkness, and dark-
ness accompanies the light. These two orders of truths
are so united, so interlinked, that you cannot remove
the one without the other ; and each of the mysteries
you attempt to tear from religion, would carry with it
one of the truths which bear directly on your regenera-
tion and salvation. Accept the mysteries, then, not as
truths that can save you, but as the necessary condi-
tions of the merciful work of the Lord in your behalf.

The true point at issue in reference to religion is
this : — Does the religion which is proposed to us, change
the heart, unite to God, prepare for heaven ? If Chris-
tianity produces these effects, we will leave the enemies

THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 179

of the cross free to revolt against its mysteries, and tax
them with absurdity. The gospel, we will say to them,
is then an absurdity ; you have discovered it. But be-
hold what a new species of absurdity that certainly is,
which attaches man to all his duties, regulates human
life better than all the doctrines of sages, plants in his
bosom harmony, order, and peace, causes him joyfully
to fulfil all the offices of civil life, renders him better fit-
ted to live, better fitted to die, and which, were it gene-
rally received, would be the support and safeguard of
society! Cite to us, among all human absurdities, a
single one which produces such effects. If that " fool-
ishness" we preach produces eflfects like these, is it not
natural to conclude that it is truth itself? And if these
things have not entered the heart of man, it is not be-
cause they are absurd, but because they are divine.

Make, my readers, but a single reflection. You are
obliged to confess that none of the religions which man
may invent can satisfy his wants, or save his soul.
Thereupon you have a choice to make. You will
either reject them all as insufficient and false, and seek
for nothing better, since man cannot invent better, and
then you will abandon to chance, to caprice of temper-
ament or of opinion, your moral life and future destiny ;
or you will adopt that other religion which some treat
as folly, and it will render you holy and pure, blameless
in the midst of a perverse generation, united to God by
love, and to your brethren by charity, indefatigable in
doing good, happy in life, happy in death. Suppose,
after all this, you shall be told that this religion is false ;
but, meanwhile, it has restored in you the image of God,
re-established your primitive connections with that great
Being, and put you in a condition to enjoy life and the

180 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

happiness of heaven. By means of it you have become
such that at the last day, it is impossible that God
should not receive you as his children and make you
partakers of his glory. You are made fit for paradise,
nay, paradise has commenced for you even here, be-
cause you love. This religion has done for you what
all religion proposes, and what no other has realized.
Nevertheless, by the supposition, it is false ! And what
more could it do, were it true ? Rather do you not see
that this is a splendid proof of its truth ? Do you not
see that it is impossible that a religion which leads to
God should not come from God, and that the absurdity
is precisely that of supposing that you can be regenera-
ted by a falsehood ?

Suppose that afterwards, as at the first, you do not
comprehend. It seems necessary, then, you should be
saved by the things you do not comprehend. Is that a
misfortune ? Are you the less saved ? Does it become
you to demand from God an explanation of an obscurity
which does not injure you, when, with reference to
everything essential, he has been prodigal of light ?
The first disciples of Jesus, men without culture and
learning, received truths which they did not compre-
hend, and spread them through the world. A crowd
of sages and men of genius have received, from the
hands of these poor people, truths which they compre-
hended no more than they. The ignorance of the one,
and the science of the other, have been equally docile.
Do, then, as the ignorant and the wise have done.
Embrace with affection those truths which have never
entered into your heart, and which will save you. Do
not lose, in vain discussions, the time which is gliding

THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 181

away, and which is bearing you into the cheering or
appaUing Hght of eternity. Hasten to be saved. Love
now ; one day you will know. May the Lord Jesus
prepare you for that period of light, of repose, and of
happiness !

THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART.

" Things which have not entered into the heart of man, but which God hath
prepared for them that love him.'' — 1 Cor. ii. 9.

God has destined the world to be, not only the the-
atre of our activity, but also the object of our study.
He has concealed in the depths of nature innumerable
secrets, which he invites us to fathom ; innumerable
truths, which he encourages us to discover. To pene-
trate these secrets, to discover these truths, it is neces-
sary to possess certain intellectual faculties, and to have
them suitably exercised, but nothing more. The dis-
positions of the heart have no direct influence on the
acquisition of this kind of knowledge. It is with this
knowledge, as it is with " the rain, which God causeth
to fall on the just and the unjust, and the sun which he
maketh to shine upon the good and the evil." To ac-
quire it, does not necessarily suppose a pure heart or a
benevolent character ; and, unhappily, it is too common
to see the finest gifts of genius united with the most
deplorable selfishness and the deepest depravity of man-
ners. God seems to have prepared the truths of human
science indifferently for his friends and enemies. It is
not thus with the truths of religion. God, it is said, in
the Scriptures, " hath prepared them for those that love

THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 183

him." Not that he has excluded from the possession
of them, men of learning and genius ; but neither learn-
ing nor genius is sufficient here as in the other sciences.
Love is the true interpreter of the truths of the gos-
pel. The " wisdom of this world and of the princes of
this world/' is vanquished by the simplicity of love,
love and wisdom among them that are perfect, conform-
ably to that declaration of St. John, " He that loveth
God is born of God and knoweth God."

That w^hich is often seen occurring between two
persons of different languages, takes place between God
and man ; it is necessary that a person versed in both
languages should intervene between the two parties,
and listening to the words of the one, put them within
reach of the other, by rendering them into the idiom he
understands. But between God and man, between the
gospel and our soul, that interpreter is love. Love
renders intelligible to man the truths of the gospel, —
not indeed those abstract truths which relate to the es-
sence of God, the knowledge of which, as we have seen,
is equally inaccessible and useless to us, — but those
other truths, which concern our relations to God, and
constitute the very foundation of religion. These are
the truths which escape from reason, and which love
seizes without difficulty.

You are surprised, perhaps, to see filled by love, by a
sentiment of the heart, a function which seems to you
to belong only to reason. But please to reflect that the
greater part of our knowledge is derived to us immedi-
ately from another source than reason. When we de-
sire to obtain a knowledge of a natural object, it is, pri-
marily, our senses we make use of, and not our reason.
It is at first by sight that we acquire a knowledge of the

184 vinet's miscellanies.

size and form of bodies ; by hearing, that of sounds ;
and by smell, that of odors. It is necessary that reason
should afterwards perform a part, and connect its ope-
rations with those of the organs ; but whatever may be
the importance of its intervention, we must admit that
the knowledge of sensible objects and their properties is
derived essentially from the senses.

Things transpire in no other way in the moral world.
It is not by the intellect alone, nor by the intellect first,
that we can judge of things of this order. To know
them we must have a sense also, which is called the
moral sense. The intellect may come in afterwards as
an auxiliary ; it observes, compares, and classes our im-
pressions, but it does not produce them ; and it would
be as little reasonable to pretend that we owe them to
it, as to affirm that it is bv the ear we obtain the knowl-
edge of colors, by sight that of perfumes, and by smell
that of sounds and harmonies. The things of the heai't
are not truly comprehended but by the heart.

Permit us to dwell a moment upon this idea ; for we
feel the necessity of explaining it thoroughly. In say-
ing that the heart comprehends, do we say that it be-
comes reason, or that it conducts a process of reason-
ing? By no means. The heart does not comprehend
like the reason ; but it comprehends as well, if not bet-
ter. As to the reason, what is it to comprehend ? It
is to seize the thread of logical deduction, the chain of
ideas which joins together two or more facts ; it is to
attain conviction, assurance, by means other than ex-
perience ; it is to be placed by the intellect in relative
connection with those objects, an immediate contact
with which is denied us. The comprehension of the
mind, to speak plainly, is nothing more than a supple-

THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 185

merit to the inevitable chasms in our experience.*
These chasms occm' either from the absence of the ob-
jects themselves, or from their natm^e, which has no
point of contact with ours. If these two obstacles did
not exist, or if it were possible to remove them, man
w^ould have nothing to comprehend ; for he would touch,
he would grasp, he would taste everything. Reason in
him would be replaced by intuition. Wherever intuition
has place, there is no more comprehension, for it is more
than comprehension ; or if any one chooses that it should
be comprehension, it is a comprehension of a new na-
ture, of a superior order, which explains everything,
without effort, to which everything is clear, but which
it cannot communicate, by words, to the reason of an-
other.

But it is the same with the comprehension of the
heart. Doubtless it has its precise limits. It extends
to everything within the domain of sentiment, but to
nothing beyond. Reason, however, has its limits also,
quite as distinctly marked, and can no more overleap
them than the heart those which belong to it. Applied
to things which belong exclusively to the sphere of

* The -^ord experience is here used in its strictly philosophical sense.
It embraces the facts of sensation and consciousness, the emotions and
perceptions of the mind. These constitute an assemblage of facts,
which it is the pro%Tnce of reason, on the ground of its own intuitive
couvictions, first to analyze, and then combine, under general heads or
systems ; and thus supply the deficiencies or chasms in our experience.
It especially perceives and classifies relations, and deduces from, per-
haps communicates to, the whole those general ideas which embody,
in their comprehensive range, an infinite nimiber of scattered, but re-
lated facts. Reason, therefore, is a supplement to our experience, and
is a purely intellectual process. It involves no feeling or affection, and
may exist, in the greatest perfection, without a smgle holy or >'irtuou3
impulse. — T.

186 vinet's miscellanies.

sentiment, it wanders in obscurity ; it passes by the
side of sentiment as if it were a stranger ; it neither
understands nor is understood ; and retires from a use-
less struggle, without having either taken or given any-
thing. Reason on the one side, and the heart on the
other, do not comprehend each other. They have no
mutual agreement, except in that of a disdainful pity.

To render this truth more evident, suppose, on the
one hand, a generous man, a hero, a soul ever burning
with the lofty flame of devotion ; and on the other, a
man of quick intelligence, of reason vast and profound,
but deprived, were it possible, of all sensibihty, do you
not believe that the first would, all his life long, be an
enigma to the other ? How, indeed, could the latter
conceive of those transports of enthusiasm, those acts
of self-denial, and those sublime expressions, the source
of which never existed in his own soul ? " The spirit-
ual man," says St. Paul, " judgeth all things, and no one
(unless spiritual) can judge him." Let us, by sup-
position, apply this expression to the sensitive and
generous being of whom we speak ; no one, unless he
has the germs of the same emotions, can form a judg-
ment of him ; a fact distinctly recognized by those who
have said, that great souls pass through the world with-
out being understood.

Affectation ! hypocrisy ! is the cry frequently heard,
in view of certain manifestations, and especially of re-
ligious manifestations. An ardor which glows in the
depths of the soul, which engrosses all the faculties, and
which is incessantly renewed from its own proper
source, appears to some too strange to be credited. In
order to believe it, they need only to feel it ; but cer-
tain it is, that unless they do feel it, they cannot con-

THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 187

ceive of it. And they will continue to tax with affecta-
tion and hypocrisy, a sentiment which perhaps restrains
itself, and discovers only half of its energy. A mistake,
how natural ! All the efforts of the most active intel-
lect cannot give us the conception of the taste of a fruit
we have never tasted, or the perfume of a flower we
have never smelt, much less of an affection w^e have
never felt.

It is with the heights of the soul, as it is with the
sublimities of the firmament. When on a serene night,
millions of stars sparkle in the depths of the sky, the
gorgeous splendor of the starry vault ravishes every
one that has eyes ; but he to whom Providence has de-
nied the blessing of sight, would in vain possess a mind
open to the loftiest conceptions ; in vain would his in-
tellectual capacity transcend what is common among
men. All that intelligence, and all the power he might
add by study to his rare gifts, will not aid him in form-
ing a single idea of that ravishing spectacle ; while at
his side, a man, without talent or culture, has only to
raise his eyes, to embrace at a glance, and in some
measure enjoy, all the splendors of the firmament, and,
through his vision, to receive into his soul the impres-
sions which such a spectacle cannot fail to produce.

Another sky, and one as magnificent as the azure
vault stretched over our heads, is revealed to us in the
gospel. Divine truths are the stars of that mystic sky,
and they shine in it brighter and purer than the stars
of the firmament ; but there must be an eye to see them,
and that eye is love. The gospel is a work of love.
Christianity is only love realized under its purest form ;
and since the light of the world cannot be known without
an eye, love cannot be comprehended but by the heart.

188 vinet's miscellanies.

You may have exhausted all the powers of your
reason, and all the resources of your knowledge, to es-
tablish the authenticity of the Scriptures ; you may have
perfectly explained the apparent contradictions of the
sacred books ; you may have grasped the connection of
the fundamental truths of the gospel ; you may have done
all this, yet if you do not love, the gospel will be to you
nothing but a dead letter, and a sealed book ; its revela-
tions will appear to you but as abstractions, and naked
ideas ; its system but a speculation unique in its kind ;
nay, more, whatever in the gospel is most attractive, most
precious and sweet, but an arbitrary conception, a strange
dogma, a painful test of your faith, and nothing more.

But let love, sweet, gracious, luminous, interpreting,
come between the gospel and the human soul, and the
truth of the gospel shall have a meaning, — and one as
clear as it is profound. Then shall your soul find itself
free and happy, in the midst of these strange revelations.
Then shall those truths you have accepted, through
submission and obedience, become to you as familiar
and as necessarily true, as those common every-day
truths, upon which depends your existence. Then
shall you penetrate, without an effort, into the marvel-
lous system, which your reason dreaded, so to speak, to
see too near, in a confused apprehension of being
tempted to infidelity. Then shall you probably be as-
tonished, that you had never perceived, conjectured,
discovered it ; that previous to revelation, you had
never found out that such a system was as necessary to
the glory of God, as to the happiness of man.

So long as man, with reason alone, has climbed up
Calvary, and gone around the cross, he has seen noth-
ing but darkness in the divine work of expiation. For

THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 189

whole ages might he remain in contemplation before
that mysterious fact, but would not succeed in raising
from it the veil. Ah ! how can reason, cold reason,
comprehend such a thing as the substitution of the
innocent for the guilty ; as the compassion which re-
veals itself in severity of punishment, in that shed-
ding of blood, without which, it is said, there can
be no expiation. It will not make, I dare affirm, a
single step towards the knowledge of that divine
mystery, until casting away its ungrateful specula-
tions, it yields to a power more competent to the task
of terminating the difficulty. That power is the heart ;
which fixes itself entirely on the love that shines forth
in the work of redemption ; cleaves without distraction
to the sacrifice of the adorable victim ; lets the natural
impression of that unparalleled love penetrate freely,
and develop itself gradually, in its interior. O how
quickly, then, are the veils torn away, and the shadows
dissipated forever! How little difficulty does he that
loves, find in comprehending love ! How natural to him
does it appear, that God, infinite in all things, should be
infinite also in his compassion ! How inconceivable to
him, on the other hand, that human hearts should not
be capable of feeling the beauty of a work, without which
God could not manifest himself entire ! How astonished
is he at the blindness of those who read and re-read the
Scriptures without comprehending the central truth ;
who pass and re-pass before a love all-divine, without
recognizing or even perceiving a work all-divine!

The Holy Scriptures have spoken to him of prayer,
as a powerful means of attracting the grace of God ; as
a force to which divine power is wilhng to submit, and
which seems, in some sense, to share with the Deity

190 vinet's miscellanies.

the empire of the universe. Before such an idea rea-
son remains confounded. There is no objection it does
not involuntarily raise against a doctrine, which, after
all, belongs to the very essence of religion. But to the
heart, how beautiful is this doctrine ; how natural, how
probable, how necessary ! How eagerly the heart em-
braces it ! How it hastens to put it in the rank of its
most cherished convictions ! And how wretchedly and
foolishly ivise do those appear to it, who, feeling on the
one hand, that religion without prayer is not religion,
and on the other, that the bearing of prayer upon their
destinies is inexplicable, resolve to remain in uncer-
tainty on the subject, waiting and not praying at all !

It is the same with many other mysteries of Chris-
tianity, or rather with Christianity as a whole. Even
to those who receive it as a divine religion, and believe
it intellectually, it is veiled, it is empty, it is dead, so
long as they do not call the heart to their aid. Among
sincere believers, there are many who have gone
around Christianity, a religion of their intellect, as
around an impenetrable sanctuary, knocking in turn at
all the doors of that asylum, without finding one open,
and returning without success to those already tried
many times, believing and not believing at the same
time, Christians by their wishes, pagans by their hopes,
convinced but not persuaded, enlightened but not con-
soled. To such I address myself; I appeal to their sin-
cerity, and ask them, Whence comes it that you believe,
and as yet have only the responsibilities, not the bless-
ings, of faith ? How happens it, that you carry your
faith as a yoke that oppresses and weighs you down,
not as wings which raise you above your miseries and
the world ? How comes it, that, in the bosom of that

THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 191

religion you have accepted, you are strangers, exiles,
and as if out of your natural atmosphere ? How is
it that you are not at home in your father's house ?
Let us put the finger upon the wound. It is that your
heart is not yet touched. The heart of Lydia must be
opened, before she can understand the things spoken by
Paul. So also you heart must be opened, in order to
understand the truths which only the heart can under-
stand. Or, to use the energetic language of Scripture,
the heart of flesh must take, in your bosom, the place
of the heart of stone.

Alas ! with a conviction firmlv established, with an
orthodoxy the most perfect, how many do we see,
strangers to true faith, how many sceptical believers,
how many who have not doubted the truth of the Scrip-
tures a single day of their life, who read them assidu-
ously, who know them even by heart, and who, not-
withstanding all this, do not believe at all ! Ah, it is
that faith is something else than the product of the in-
tellect ; it is that faith is love. Knowledge may give
us convictions ; love alone gives us life.

The first advice that reason ought to give us, should be
to refuse reason in everything which does not belong to
its jurisdiction. But reason is proud, reason is dogmat-
ic ; it will not submit. What then does our Heavenly
Father do when he desires to save a soul ? He leaves
it for a time, to struggle with its speculations, and to
vex itself with their impotence. When it is weary and
despairing, when it has acknowledged that it is equally
incapable of stifling or of satisfying its craving for light,
he takes advantage of its humiliation ; he lays his hand
upon that soul, exhausted by its efforts, wounded by its
falls, and compels it to sue for quarter. Then it hum-

192 vinet's miscellanies.

bles itself, submits, groans ; it cries for succor ; it re-
nounces the claim to know, and desires only to believe ;
it pretends not to comprehend, it only aspires to live.
Then the heart commences its functions ; it takes the
place of reason ; anguished and craving, the heart is
such as God would have it. It sues for grace, and lo !
there is grace ; it asks for aid, and aid comes ; it craves
salvation, and salvation is given ! On that heart, con-
fused and miserable, is then bestowed, nay lavished, all
that was refused to reason, proud and haughty. Its
poverty enables it to conceive what its wealth kept it
from knowing. It comprehends with ease, it accepts
with ardor, the truths which it needs, and without which
no human soul can enjoy peace or happiness. And
thus is fulfilled the word of wisdom : " Out of the heart
proceed the springs of life.'"

Will ye come, proud spirits, and demand from such
an one an account of his faith ? Certainly he will not
explain to you what is inexplicable ; in this respect he
will send you away poorly satisfied. But, if he says
to you, if he can say to you, — I love ! — ought not such a
response to satisfy you ? If he can say, — I no longer be-
long to myself, nor to honor, nor to the world ; my meat
is to do the will of my heavenly Father ; I aspire to eter-
nal good ; I love, in God, all my brethren, with a cordial
aftection ; I am content to live, I shall be happy to die ;
henceforth all is harmony within me ; my energies and
activities, my destiny and desires, my afl:ections and
thoughts, are all in accordance ; the world, this life,
and human things are not the mystery which torments
me, nor the contradiction that causes me to despair ;
in a word, I am raised to newness of life. If he says,
if he can say to you all this, and his whole life corrobo-

THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 193

rates his words, ah, then, do not waste on him vain
reasonings ; try not to refute him ; he has truth, for
he has Kfe. He touches with his hands, he sees with
his eyes, he perceives, in some sort, with all his senses,
a truth which all the arguments in the world could not
establish with so much certainty, which all the argu-
ments in the world cannot shake. Does the person who
enjoys sight need to be told there is light ? Can one
in good health be persuaded he is sick ? These are ir-
refragable verities, the proof of which is in himself, nay
more, of which he is himself the living proof.

Thus the truths of the gospel have changed his heart ;
but the Spirit of God must, first of all, have prepared it
to receive them. Let us not lose sight of these two
facts : — it is the gospel which renews us, and it is the
Spirit of God which enables us to receive the gospel
into our heart. When we have received it, when
in our heart, lately sick and insane, love has estab-
lished his immutable empire, that love becomes an
abundant source of light. By it a thousand obscurities
of the word are cleared away. Its flame imparts no
less light than heat. Delightful thought ! the more we
love, the more we know. Such is the experience of
the Christian. Do you not wish to feel it, slaves of
reason, melancholy victims of a knowledge which mis-
takes its limits and exaggerates its rights ? Ye who
know, but do not live, will you not ask from God love
in order to comprehend love, love in order to know,
love in order to live ?

O, God, whom we should never have known hadst
thou not deigned to discover thyself to us in the light of
the gospel, complete the great work thou hast begun.
Give us a heart to understand the truths thou hast re-

9

194 vinet's miscellanies.

vealed ! Let the light of love, shed in our hearts by
thee, disperse all the obscurities of thy word ! Let thy
goodness, let thy marvellous wisdom, keep from us no
other secrets than those which are useless for us to
know ; teach us by love the most perfect of all wisdom ;
render the most simple wise in the science of salvation !
Thy Spirit, O Lord, is love, as thou thyself art love.
Diffuse it through the whole earth ; spread, in every
place, that holy flame ; attract all hearts to thyself;
make of all souls one single soul, in a common senti-
ment of adoration and devotion ! Lord ! we shall know
all, when we know how to love ; we shall rejoice in a
light which is not the product of laborious study, but
one which sanctifies and consoles ! Then truly shalt
thou have spoken to us in the gospel. Then shall it
be seen that thou hast given to us a message of love
and peace ; and our conviction, cold, sterile, useless,
shall be changed into a living faith, full of hope, full of
good fruits.

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH*

" We preach Christ crucified, .... to the Greeks foolishness." — 1 Cor. i. 23.

Christianity has not left to infidelity the satisfac-
tion of being the first to tax it with folly. It has
hastened to bring this accusation against itself. It has
professed the bold design of saving men by a folly.
Upon this point it has suffered no illusion ; it knew that
its doctrine would pass for an insane one ; it knew it be-
fore experience of the fact, before any one had said it ;
and it went forth, with this folly on its lips, this folly for
a standard, to the conquest of the world. If, then, it is
foolish, it is so consciously and voluntarily ; and those
who reproach it on this account, will, at least, be
obliged to confess that it has foreseen, and braved their
reproach.

Never did so calm a foresight, so just an apprecia-
tion of obstacles, means and chances, distinguish the
author of a system or the founder of a religion, Never
did any one enter so fully into the spirit of his oppo-
nents, and transport himself so completely from his own
point of view to theirs. When it is seen in what re-
spect Christianity judges itself contrary to the world,

♦ The word/o/ie ia used by Frencli medical "^vriters for insanity; and
it is to madness, rather tlian simjile folly, to which our author in this
discoui'se refers. — T.

196 vinet's miscellanies.

and the world contrary to it, we have an idea of incom-
patibility so essential and profound, that we cannot
help asking, with what hope, and so to speak, with what
right, does such a religion propose itself to the world ;
and a choice remains only between two suppositions,
that of an extravagance, absolutely unparalleled, or of a
secret inspiration and a supernatural power.

Of course, we should not dream of pretending that
this characteristic of a doctrine was, by itself, a pre-
sumption in favor of its truth. Error, too, may have
the appearance of folly, for error is sometimes a folly, I
mean in the judgment of men ; for it is ever such in
the eyes of God. But this we say, that, if religion
were destitute of such a characteristic, we could not
presume it to be true. A religion, which should ap-
pear reasonable to the whole world, could not be the
true one ; in that general assent accorded to it, without
opposition, I recognize the fact, that God has not spo-
ken ; the seal is not broken, the light has not burst
forth ; I must still wait.

This idea itself is not a folly ; and if its truth does
not strike at first, if it does not present itself as a reve-
lation of common sense, it is deduced without difficulty
from other truths which common sense reveals, and
which no man, unless deprived of this common sense
itself, dreams of disavowing. Every one, if he will rea-
son a little, will range himself on the side of this para-
dox, and will see this strange idea gradually become an
obvious truth. Every one will acknowledge that true
religion must, at its first appearance among men, be
saluted from all sides with that accusation of folly
which Christianity has so loftily braved.

Let us leave to philosophers and physicians the task

FOLLY OF THE TRQTH. 197

of exactly defining insanity. It has, at least, one
constant characteristic, that it renders a man unfit
for human life, taking life, in this instaiirce, only in its
essential conditions. The madman and the idiot do
not really form a part of society, to which the weakest,
the most ignorant, and I will almost say, the most say-
age of men are not permitted, in all the force of the
term, to belong. Insanity, which in other respects
has no connection with crime, must at least, have
this in common with it, that it throws us yiolently out
of the pale of humanity. It is a monstrosity in the
sphere of intellect. But as the eyidence of such mons-
trosity is to believe or see something which no man,
rightly constituted, and healthy in body and mind, be-
lieves and sees, — since it is necessarily under such an
aspect that insanity manifests itself, — it follows, that
wherever this characteristic discovers itself, it awakens
the idea of insanity. So that even a man who is not
destitute of any of the conditions w^hich compose our idea
of humanity, is, nevertheless, for the want of a better
term, designated a fool, when by his opinions he is found
alone in the midst of his nation or his age : and if he
meets with partisans, real or pretended, they share with
him, so long as their number is small, the same title and
the same disgrace.

Not only an opinion which all the world rejects, but
a hope which no one shares, or a plan with which no
one associates himself, brings the charge of folly before
the multitude, against the rash man who has conceived
it, and who cherishes it. His opinion may seem just,
and his aim reasonable ; he is a fool only for wishing to
realize it. His folly lies in believing possible what all the
world esteems impossible. Nay, ho is a fool at a

198 vinet's miscellanies.

cheaper rate than even this. If, renouncing hope, he does
not abandon desire ; if he makes his happiness depend
upon an end impossible to be attained, or an improve-
ment impossible to be accomplished ; if in the absence
of a good which appears to him indispensable, of an
ideal which has become, as it were, a part of his soul,
he judges his life lost, and finds no relish in any of the
joys which it offers to the rest of mankind, though in
other respects he fulfil all the duties which his condi-
tion as a man imposes on him, the victim and sport of
a fixed idea, he is a madman, at least with reference to
that particular point ; and the respect which others
feel for him does not hinder them from pronouncing in-
sane a grief which they do not understand.

They do not always apply to him this opprobrious
epithet ; but what they do not say, they think ; what
they do not proclaim, they permit to be seen. That
man, they say, is not indeed a fool, but he has a foolish
notion. For insanity is not necessarily a darkness in
which the whole soul is enveloped ; it is sometimes only
a dark spot in a brilliant light. The shadows are more
or less thick, more or less diffused. There are degrees
of insanity ; after all, it is insanity. We need not dis-
pute about a term ; and the world will ever call him
foolish who desires to be wise all alone.

In other respects, indeed, the world is willing that one
should be wise. It says so, at least ; but it does not
recognize any wisdom contrary to the opinion and prac-
tice of the majority. It honors principles ; it is willing,
indeed, that we should regulate ourselves by them ; but
it might be said, that it really knows none but the au-
thority of numbers. At least numbers and also time are,
in its eyes, so strong a presumption of truth, that it

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 199

rarely gives itself the trouble to examine if one or a few
individuals may not be right in opposition to all ; and it
appears as if it would compel the truth which has noth-
ing in common with space and time, to derive itself en-
tirely from space and time.

This prepossession is not without some foundation.
It is not natural to suppose that truth was made to be
the portion of a small number. It was a part, and the
best part of the heritage of humanity ; it was not to lie
dormant for ages, to awaken at a given moment ; nor
to lose itself at a distance from the spirit of humanity,
to be recovered in the thoughts of some favored individ-
ual. The truth, necessary to all, was to be within the
reach of all, and present itself unceasingly to the mind
of all. Such was the condition of truth, in the healthy,
and regular condition of human nature. But those who
derive truth from the opinion of the majority, either do
not believe that man has departed from that primitive
state, or they forget the fact ; or, finally, they believe in
the fall, without believing its principal consequences.
They do not reflect that one of its first consequences
must be the stupefaction of the moral sense, and the ob-
scuration of our natural light. They do not consider
that the knowledge which depends upon a certain state
of the soul, changes with that very state, and that a con-
science which has become dormant permits all kinds of
error to enter the mind. They do not perceive, that
our soul is not a mirror, in which truth is reflected by
itself, but an opaque surface, on which it has always to
be graven afresh ; that, since the fall, faith is so little
independent of the will, that, on the contrary, the will
is a condition and an element of faith ; that truth has no
longer an irresistible evidence, nor, consequently, the

200 vinet's miscellanies.

power of making the same impressions on the minds of
all, and subjecting them at once to its sway. On the
other hand, they do not see that humanity, having been
corrupted at its source, it is with great difficulty that
certain elementary principles, necessary to the existence
of society, are preserved, and still less, we must ac-
knowledge it, preserved as true, as well as necessary.
They do not remind themselves of the fact, that certain
errors, adapted to all, have been able easily to enter the
world by a door so poorly guarded as that of the heart,
there to usurp authority, to establish themselves on a
respectable footing, to become the rule of conduct and
the test of morals. Will they deny that there have been
universal errors ? What will they say of slavery, that
appalling evil, for which, during ages, no one had the
slightest shame or remorse, which has not retired, ex-
cept step by step, before the advancing light of Chris-
tianity, and which, O mournful condition of human
nature ! some civilized men, who believe in Jesus
Christ, yet defend ? When these errors come to be
torn from the human mind, it is from the roots, it is for-
ever ; the conscience of humanity never restores any
of its conquests. But such errors have reigned ; ages
have transmitted them intact and vital ; and if univer-
sal consent is the seal of truth, they are as irrefragably
true, as any of the truths which have universal consent
for their basis. Are you surprised at this ? Be appalled,
but do not be surprised ; for if the fall of man has not
had these consequences, I am ignorant of what conse-
quences it could have, and should be reduced to the
necessity of deeming it a pure fiction, or of all truths the
most insignificant and powerless.

Many reason upon this subject as if nothing had hap-

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 201

pened, since the day when God, looking upon his work,
saw that what he had made was good. They speak of
truth as if its condition amongst us were always the same.
They love to represent it, enveloping and accompany-
ing humanity, as the atmosphere envelops and accom-
panies our earth, in its journey through the heavens.
But it is not so ; truth is not attached to our mind, as
the atmosphere to the globe we inhabit. Truth is a
suppliant, who, standing before the threshold, is forever
pressing towards the hearth, from which sin has banished
it. As we pass and re-pass before that door, which it
never quits, that majestic and mournful figure fixes for
a moment our distracted attention. Each time it awa-
kens in our memory I know not what dim recollections
of order, glory, and happiness ; but we pass, and the
impression vanishes. We have not been able entirely
to repudiate the truth ; we still retain some unconnected
fragments of it ; what of its light our enfeebled eye can
bear, what of it is proportioned to our condition. The
rest we reject or disfigure, so as to render it difficult of
recognition, while we retain, — which is one of our mis-
fortunes— the names of things we no longer possess.
Moral and social truth is like one of those monumental
inscriptions* over which the whole community pass as
they go to their business, and which every day become
more and more defaced ; until some friendly chisel is
applied to deepen the lines in that worn-out stone, so
that every one is forced to perceive and to read it.
That chisel is in the hands of a small number of men,
who perseveringly remain prostrate before that ancient
inscription, at the risk of being dashed upon the pave-

* The monumental inscriptions here referred to, are supposed to bo
level with the ground. — T.

9*

202 vinet's miscellanies.

ment, and trampled under the heedless feet of the pass-
ers-by ; in other words, this truth dropped into oblivion,
that duty fallen into disuse, finds a witness in the person
of some man who has not believed, without any other
consideration, that all the world are right, simply and
solely because it is all the world.

The strange things which that strange man says, and
which some other repeats after him, will not fail to be
believed sooner or later, and finally become the univer-
sal opinion. And why ? Because truth is truth ; be-
cause it corresponds to everything, satisfies everything ;
because, both in general and in detail, it is better adapted
to us than error ; because, bound up by the most inti-
mate relations, with all the order in the universe, it has
in our interests and wants a thousand involuntary advo-
cates ; because everything demands it, everything cries
after it ; because error exhausts and degrades itself;
because falsehood, which at first appeared to benefit all,
has ended by injuring all ; so that truth sits down in its
place, vacant, as it were, for the want of a suitable heir.
Enemies concur with friends, obstacles with means, to
the production of that unexpected result. Combinations
of which it is impossible to give account, and of which
God only has the secret, secure that victory. But con-
science is not a stranger here ; for there is within us,
whatever we do, a witness to the truth, a witness timid
and slow, but which a superior force drags from its re-
treat, and at last compels to speak. It is thus that truths
the most combated, and, at first, sustained by organs the
most despised, end by becoming, in their turn, popular
convictions. This is our hope with reference to that
truth which includes all truths, or in the bosom of which
they are all formed anew. We firmly believe, conform-

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 203

ably to the divine promise, that a time will come, when
the gospel of Jesus Christ, if not loved by all, will at
least be believed and professed by all.

This, however, does not prevent all such truths from
being combated, and their first witnesses from passing
for madmen. At the head of each of those movements
which have promoted the elevation of the human race,
what do you see ? In the estimation of the world, mad-
men. And the contempt they have attracted by their
folly, has always been proportioned to the grandeur of
their enterprise, and the generosity of their intentions.
The true heroes of humanity have always been crowned
by that insulting epithet. And the man, who to-day in
a pious enthusiasm, or yet more, to please the world,
celebrates those men whose glory lies in having dared
to displease the world, would, during their life, have
perhaps been associated with their persecutors. He
honors them, not because they are not worthy of honor,
but because he sees them honored. His fathers have
killed the prophets, and he their son, subdued by uni-
versal admiration, builds the tombs of the prophets.

The world demands, — and it is always by a forget-
fulness of the condition into which we are fallen that it
does so, — that truth should present itself with the ad-
vantage of simplicity and clearness. Many wish to
make this a condition of truth ; they wish to recognize
it by this mark. That is all very well ! But in order
that it may appear simple, let us first have an eye sim-
ple like it. Is it the fault of truth, if our heart being di-
vided, our intellect should be divided also, and that the
axioms of man innocent, are the problems of man
fallen ? But without insisting on this reply, which
may not perhaps be received by those who do not be-

204 vinet's miscellanies.

lieve in the first fall, let us give another, which may be
within view and reach of all. If we make clearness
and simplicity the test of truth, we run the risk, in
many cases, of embracing error instead of truth ; for
error, in most instances, has over truth the advan-
tage of simplicity. Error, very often, has nothing to
do but to suppress one of the elements of a question, to
procure for it, by that arbitrary suppression, a similitude
of unity. Every truth, in the actual condition of hu-
man nature, is composed of two terms, which must be
harmonized, and which does not become truth in our
minds, but by their reconciliation.* There are always

* The reference here is obviously to that principle of the Baconian
philosophy, so clearly developed in the Novum Organum, by which all
facts and truths are to be investigated, on what Bacon calls their nega-
tive and affirmative sides. Things are often not what they seem. All
questions have two aspects ; and negative instances are uniformly to be
reconciled to positive, in order that truth may be evolved and estab-
lished. Take, for example, the principle or fact of gravitation, by
which all bodies tend to their centre. This is proved by innumerable facts.
But many things seem opposed to it, especially the fact that the heav-
enly bodies are actually thrown out from the centre of gravitation by
the " centrifugal force," so that two opposing forces are constantly striving
with each other. This constitutes the negative side of the question, and
must be shown to be in harmony with the facts on the affirmative side.
The earth revolves around the sun ; but the sun appears to revolve around
the earth ; it seems to rise and set while the earth appears stationary.
These facts must be harmonized, by reference to a single principle, or
class of principles, in which they all imite.

In moral or spiritual truths, the fact under consideration is still more
obvious. Is man a spiritual and immortal being ? This is generally
conceded, and the proof is satisfactory. But many facts seem opposed
to it. For man sleeps, he decays, he loses his reason, he dies. This is
the negative side of the question, and must be shown to be in harmony
with the other, before the truth can be estabUshed. God is good and
merciful. This is the affirmative side of a most important fact. But
many things seem opposed to it, such as the universal ignorance and

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 205

two elements to be reduced to a single one, either by
the conciliation or the suppression of one of them. The
first step towards the truth, is to recognize the exist-
ence of two elements ; the second is to re-unite, with-
out destroying them. Now, in what position in refer-
ence to these are the greater part of sincere and thought-
ful men ; or, to speak more properly, in what posi-
tion is humanity ? In the first ; that is to say, it recog-
nizes this duality. The human mind, in general, is not
in that state of simplicity which some would make the
characteristic and mark of truth. Who, then, will ap-

wretchedness of man, the apparent disorders in the natural and moral
•worlds, which are permitted, if not inflicted, by the Divine Being. The
two sides of the question, then, must be reconciled, by the intervention
of some other principle or fact, such as the justice of God, the free-
agency of man, or the indissoluble connection between sin and misery.
This duality of truth, if it may be so called, is, if possible, stiU more ob
vious in revelation. It is affirmed, for example, that Jesus Christ is
God ; but he is also spoken of as a man, with all the feehngs and in-
firmities of man. He loves, he suffers, he dies. In one case he acts the
sovereign, in another the servant. Now he wields the energies of om-
nipotence. Anon he groans beneath the pressm-e of calamity. Now
lie lies in the grave guarded by Roman soldiers, then he breaks the
bands of death, and ascends " far above all principality, and power, and
might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this
world, but also in that which is to come." Where, then, is the fact, the
consideration, or the principle, which must harmonize these two classes
of opposing facts, the negative and positive sides of the problem relative
to the mystery of Christ ? Is it not found in the fact, that Jesus is
both God and man, or, as the New Testament expresses it, " God man-
ifest in the flesh ?" If this can be shown, then the two terms of the
question arc reconciled, and the truth in the case is established.

In the higher philosophy, we see the same duahty appearing, in a
more precise and striking form. The questions pertaining to subject
and object matter and mind, finite and infinite, absolute and conditioned,
God and tlie universe, are all to be resolved by the " conciliation of ap-
parent contradictions." — T.

206 vinet's miscellanies.

propriate to themselves this mark and characteristic ?
Those, doubtless, who will rid themselves of one of the
elements of the question, or one of the parts of the
truth, that they may occupy their attention only with
one. Hence, it is their opinion only which will appear
simple ; and, in a certain sense, it will be so in reality.
And since this simplicity flatters at once the indolence
and impatience of the human mind, and since, on the
other hand, the mind ever carries within it the sentiment
that there is no truth but in unity, man, dazzled with
that false and artificial unity, will eagerly abandon him-
self to opinions which present it to him, and will main-
tain them until constrained to acknowledge their false-
ness in their consequences, which violate at once his
own nature, and the nature of things.

What has given success to the most pernicious er-
rors, whether in matters of religion or social order ?
Their great air of simplicity. What has been alleged
in their favor ? Common sense. The vulgar, the
whole world, indeed, permits itself to be caught by this
bait. But human life obstinately refuses to settle down
upon such a basis. Common opinion originates no doc-
trine with which man can remain satisfied. The ideas to
which he is obliged to remount in order to give dignity
to his life, possess much more the character of para-
doxes than of common sense notions. Doubtless, there
was a time when man obtained them by immediate in-
tuition, and not through the intervention of reflection ;
because such ideas were not distinguished from his
very existence.* But that time is no more ; the pure
light is broken in the prism of sin ; the power of collect-

* They formed a part of himself. He acted upon them naturally and
spontaneously. His mind was clear, and his heart innocent. — T.

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 207

ing the scattered rays is not within us ; and common
sense has not filled the place of intuition. If man yet
accomplishes great and sublime things in the world, it
is not under the inspiration of common opinion, but
under some glimmering of primitive light ; nor is it to
common opinion they are ascribed, for it is in its name
they are condemned. In the eyes of the mass, self-
denial, humility and martyrdom are not common sense.
Thus have I called attention to a fact, and given an
explanation oi it. It is, that a general contempt has
often covered those who have recalled to the notice of
men some principle of eternal rectitude, some truth es-
sential to the elevation of human nature ; and the
explanation I have given of it is, the fall. Let us, if
you please, for the present, leave the explanation, and
confine ourselves to the fact. We ask onlv that it be

ft/

affirmed or denied. But we can scarcely believe that
any one will deny it. For, that certain individual
opinions, which have subsequently become universal,
have caused their first partisans to be treated as mad-
men or criminals, who can wish to dispute ? And yet
to maintain that these opinions, now become universal,
were, after all, errors, would argue a disposition of
mind, and even a state of moral feeling, which we are
not permitted to anticipate. I remind you only that
torture, slavery, the degradation of the female sex, and
compulsion in matters of religion, have existed amongst
us as truths of public recognition, and almost as arti-
cles of faith ; and that there is a country, where the
man who should wish to prevent widows from burning
themselves with the dead bodies of their husbands,
would be considered a madman or an infidel. Suppose,
then, that the fact in question is admitted by all our

8*

208 vinet's miscellanies.

readers ; let us occupy ourselves only with appreci-
ating its nature.

If the defenders of the most necessary, and, in the pres-
ent day, the most evident truths, have, in all epochs and
in all countries, gone by the name of fools ; if they have
been hated, despised, and persecuted ; if the truth of
which they were the messengers has not penetrated, ex-
cept slowly, and by a sanguinary road, into common
opinion, laws, and manners ; if it had to submit to that
exile of ages in order to reach, as we have said, from
the threshold to the hearth, what, we ask, is the condition
of truth on the earth, and the position of man with ref-
erence to it ? We say nothing of the fall ; let us admit
that man has not fallen ; let us not ask what he might
have been formerly ; let us look only at what he is at
present, that is, since the remotest era to which we can
go back by the aid of historical monuments. What is
the disposition of a being respecting the truth who at
first rejects it ; who despises those who proclaim it ;
who, when he accepts it, submits to it rather than ac-
cepts it ; who receives it only by little and little, and in
a shattered and fragmentary state ; who finally attaches
himself to it, I acknowledge, and does not abandon it,
but, like a husband who, during long years, has shown
himself stupidly insensible to the virtues of his wife, and
finally yields only to the inconceivable obstinacy of a
patience and an affection almost superhuman.

That effort, that sanguinary struggle, wdth which
humanity, wrestling, so to speak, against itself, seizes,
one by one, the most necessary truths ; the bad grace
with which it is done, and the incapacity of not doing
otherwise, indicate two things at once ; the first, that
man cannot do without the truth ; the second, that he

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 209

is not in fellowship with the truth. But truth is one ;
and all those truths successively discovered are only-
parts, or diverse applications of it. All the truths which
are sometimes called principles are the consequences
of a first principle. That principle includes all, unites
all ; it is from this source they derive their evidence,
their life, their immortality. That principle is the first
truth which must be honored, the first light that must be
kindled. It will itself kindle all extinguished truths,
shed over them an equal radiance, and nourish all their
scattered lamps with a divine oil, the source of which
is inexhaustible, because it is divine. We must have a
key to all problems, a primary idea, by means of which
all else may be known ; truth is one, because man is
one ; it is one, or it is nothing.

We here say nothing new. This is the very idea
which the human mind has best preserved of its ancient
heritage. It has always endeavored to attach all its
thoughts, all its life, to one grand and unique principle.
This effort has given birth to all religions ; for that es-
sential principle could be nothing but God ; and the
great question at issue has been to form an idea of God.
But man has never failed to make God after his own
image, and his various religions have never surpassed
himself ; for if by these he imposes on himself acts and
privations which he would not otherwise impose, such
toils being of his own choice, do not raise him above
himself Hence these religions do not change the prin-
ciple of his inner life ; they subject him to an external
sway, only to leave him free at heart ; in a word, they
do not substitute the new man for the old. And since
they take man at a given point in space and duration,
they are necessarily temporary, and retire before a new

210 vinet's miscellanies.

degree of culture and a new form of civilization. But
at their first appearance, however absurd they may be,
they are by no means taxed with folly ; because they are
only a form given to the moral condition of all, — a form
which is itself the result of time, place, and traditions ;
it is born and grows up with the people ; it is itself as
appropriate and natural as their manners ; and they will
take care not to accuse of extravagance their own work,
and their own thought.

But let a doctrine present itself, which, so far from
being formed in the image of man as he is, appears, on
the contrary, formed in the image of man as he is not ;
a doctrine which compels man to surpass himself, and
which changes the character, not of a particular class,
or of a single energy or faculty, but of the entire human
life ; a doctrine which places the object of humanity
higher than it is placed by any individual, or by man-
kind generally, how, think you, will it be received ?
What ! will the particular applications of the principle
cost those who proposed it contempt and insult, and the
very principle of all these applications, that which in-
cludes them all, and discovers many others like them, not
bring upon its defenders insult and contempt ? What !
hate the consequences ! and yet not hate the principle
which sanctions them, enforces them, and will contin-
ually give rise to others of a similar kind ? We do not
think so. That principle will not escape hatred, unless
by contempt, or rather it will suffer both by turns ; the
hatred of those who cannot help suspecting its truth;
the contempt of others who, looking on it only as a
prejudice different from their own, will not believe it
formidable enough to deserve their hatred. Let us
rather say, that both of them will be forced to regard it

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 211

as a folly. For what is that principle, which has crea-
ted, so to speak, another human nature ? It cannot be
an abstraction ; it must be a fact. It must be a fact of
a new order, because ordinary facts would leave us in
our ordinary condition. It is, then, a divine fact ; for
to God only does it belong to create a fact of a new
order. Hence it is a fact which we could not foresee.
And since we could not foresee it, we cannot compre-
hend it. It is not a natural but a supernatural fact ; it
is a miracle ; it is a folly. Indeed, it is not a religion
such as that which man makes for himself True re-
ligion is a revelation of God ; and if God has spoken,
what he has said is necessarily a folly to those who do
not believe. Those, too, who convey this revelation, or
relate this fact, or announce this message, will excite in
the world an immense surprise ; will revolt the wise,
alarm the timid, irritate the powerful. They will see
let loose against them the ignorant as well as the wise ;
for it is not necessary to be learned in order to discern
folly. As to the effects which this fact has produced
upon them, and the internal revolution they have un-
dergone, if they speak of them, they will not be believed ;
their most certain experiences will appear but as vain
fancies. And since the world do not comprehend their
principles, neither will they comprehend their conduct ;
they will complain of them as enthusiasts ; they will
ridicule them as mystics, until that power of truth, of
which we have spoken, has acted upon the most rebel-
lious spirits, subdued contempt, and finally forced the
wisest to confess and to bless that folly.

The history I have just recounted is that of the gos-
pel. Christian truth, simply because it was the truth,
must, at its first appearance, have had all the world

212 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

against it. It has become, externally, the religion of
nations ; and governments have done themselves the
honor to protect it, or to be protected by it. It would,
indeed, be difficult to say, with precision, what the na-
tions have adopted under the name of the Christian re-
ligion. They never believe with the same faith as
individuals. A nation has its manner of being Christian,
just as an individual has his. One must be a Christian
according to the standard of the world, not to be a fool
in its judgment. The world has abstracted from Chris-
tianity a part of its folly ; it has rendered it almost wise,
at least, in practice ; so that, even in the midst of a
Christian nation, the Christian who accepts all that
folly, passes for a foolish man. It is not, then, necessary
to go amongst the Mussulmans, or the followers of
Budh, to hear ourselves denominated insane on account
of Christianity ; the occasion will never be wanting in
Christendom, and even in the bosom of a people the
most attached to the worship of their fathers. The folly
of the cross will always spring from the book of the
gospel ; it will always break out in the profession and
conduct of those who have accepted it earnestly and
without restriction. The Christian, consequently, will
always be tempted to dissemble his faith ; and it will
therefore ever be one of his duties to brave popular con-
tempt, and confess himself tainted with that sublime
folly.

But if any one supposes that the whole matter at
issue turns on confessing his faith in Christ once for all,
he is greatly mistaken. Christianity is something more
than an assemblage of dogmas ; it is especially the prin-
ciple of a new life. The folly of the Christian does not
always consist in the doctrines he adopts. It consists

FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 213

more, much more, in the maxims which serve to regu-
late his conduct. He is foolish in practice, as well as
in theory. He separates himself from other men in a
thousand ways, the greater part of which, I allow, are
not visible, but remain secret between himself and God.
But it is impossible that this separation should not some-
times be obvious and pubhc ; if he does not seek occa-
sions for it, it is certain he will not avoid them. The
same Christianity which teaches him maxims incon-
ceivable to the rest of the world, teaches him to follow
them without fear or dissimulation. Such courage is
the first law and the first mark of a true Christian.
Every Christian is, first of all, a witness ; every witness
is, by anticipation, a martyr.

Christianity has effected this revolution in the world.
It has given to truth a dignity independent of time and
numbers. It has required that truth should be believed
and respected for itself It has claimed that every one
should be able to judge of its merits ; that the most ig-
norant and the most isolated should find in himself suf-
ficient reasons to believe ; that in order to decide
regarding it, he should not inquire if others around him
believe it, but that he should be ready, when occasion
requires, to be alone in his opinion, and to persist in it.
So many men make no use of their conscience ; so
many who practise a duty would not even suspect that
it was a duty, if they found that opinion prevalent ; so
many who have no doubt respecting a duty do not ex-
pect to recognize and discharge it until they see it per-
formed by those of their fellow-men in whom they have
the greatest confidence ! They believe so much in man,
so much in numbers, so much in antiquity, and so little
in truth ! But Christianity was designed to produce a

214 vinet's miscellanies.

race of men who should believe in truth, not in num-
bers, nor in years, nor in force, — men, consequently,
who should be ready to pass for fools.

Vt" vP vP tP vP vt* vt* Vp Vp vP

O, then, let us daily ask God to form around us an
immense void, in which we shall see nothing but Him,
• — a profound silence, in which we shall hear nothing
but Him ! Let us beseech Him to raise our souls to an
elevation, where fear of the judgments of the world shall
not reach us ; where the world itself shall disappear and
sink away beneath ! Let us entreat Him to envelop
us in his radiance, and inspire us with the holy folly of
his gospel, and especially, to penetrate our souls with a
love " to him that hath loved us," so intense and domi-
nant, that it would cost us more to descend from that
height to the world, than it has cost us to ascend thither
from the world. Let us not only pray without ceasing,
but let us unceasingly watch, unceasingly strive ; — no
means, no effort is too much to disengage us from the
restraints of worldly wisdom, to make us die to that vain
wisdom, and enable us to taste, in the bosom of God,
the plenitude of truth, and the plenitude of life.

A CHAMCTEEISTIC OF THE GOSPEL.

" And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gos-
pel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred,
and tongue, and people." — Rev. xiv. 6.

Among sceptics who resist with the greatest pertina-
city the arguments of the defenders of Christianity,
there are none, doubtless, who would not be ready to
declare, that a sensible proof, an authentic miracle,
would not find them incorrigible. Show us, they will
say to you, what St. John is said to have seen, " an an-
gel flying in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting
gospel to preach to them that dwell on the earth, and to
every nation, and tribe, and tongue, and people," and
we shall be converted. This is to promise what is be-
yond their power ; miracles do not convert ; the sight
of them can only convince the understanding, the heart
needs that demonstration of power which belongs only
to the Spirit of God. But if miracles, clear and well-
attested, are capable of producing on the mind an im-
pression which predisposes it to receive the message of
salvation, let sceptics cease to demand the vision of St.
John ; they have something of still greater value ; that
vision is an image of which they have the reality.
They can, as well as St. John, and in some sense, better
than he, see that angel who bears through the heavens
the everlasting gospel to those that dwell on the earth.

216 vinet's miscellanies.

I mean, that they can discover in Christianity a charac-
ter of perpetuity and universaUty, as striking at least to
the reason, as the sight of an angel flying in the expanse
of heaven, would be to the eyes and the imagination.
If they require a miracle, here is one. For to what will
they give the name of a miracle, if they refuse it to a
fact unique in its kind, inconceivable in its production,
contrary to all probabilities, inaccessible to all induction,
and which, before seeing it realized, every one would
have judged impossible ? Let them lend us such atten-
tion as the subject demands, and we shall hope that the
facts we are about to present will make such an im-
pression on them, as will induce them to extend their
investigations, and inform themselves more thoroughly
respecting the gospel.

This is the question we propose for discussion. Is it
in the nature of things that a doctrine, the principal
ideas of which are not susceptible of being proved, still
less discovered by mere reason, should live in all times,
and be introduced among all nations ; and not only so,
but should become, in all times and in all nations, the
vivifying principle of morality, and the beneficent aux-
iliary of the progress of the human mind ?

Have the goodness to reply ; but recollect, that the
examples you shall cite must want none of the condi-
tions enumerated in my question. The doctrine under
consideration is one which can neither be demonstrated,
nor discovered by reason. It is one capable of embra-
cing all times and all nations. It is one which takes the
principal direction of the conduct of those who embrace
it. It is one favorable to the progress of the human
mind, and the onward march of civilization ; — four con-
ditions, each of which is essential.

A CHARACTERISTIC OF THE GOSPEL. 217

I see, indeed, a doctrine common to all times, and all
nations, that of the existence of God, and the immortal-
ity of the soul ; two inseparable truths, the union of
which forms what is called natural religion. It is nat-
ural, in fact, because nature appears everywhere to have
taught its elements to the human soul. It is everywhere
one of the first products of reason, one of the first results
of its intellectual activity. It is the conclusion of a
reasoning so simple and so rapid, that the reasoning, so
to speak, disappears, and the soul appears to obtain it
by intuition. It is universal, if you please, because it
is natural. It is not, however, a natural, but a positive
religion, in which we demand this character of univer-
sality.* As soon as natural religion professes to clothe
itself in determined forms, unanimity ceases, no human
power can establish it. Natural religion, the instant it
becomes positive, ceases to be capable of being the re-
ligion of the human race.f

* By a positive religion, the author means one which is clothed in set
forms, which consists of specific articles, — or what, in theological phrase,
is sometimes called dogmatic.

f When Robespierre, who, with all his enormities, had some political
sagacity, saw the havoc which atheism was working in France, he in-
duced the Convention, which had abolished all forms of religion, to re-
store the doctrines of the existence of a Supreme Being, and of the im-
mortality of the soul. The reign of absolute infidehty, and the worship
of reason, in the person of a beautiful but lewd woman, brought from
one of the brothels of Paris, was of short duration. But deism, in a
positive form, could not be established by all the efforts of the govern-
ment, backed by the philosophers. Tlie theophilanthropists, as they
called themselves, aided by tlic public funds, opened some fifteen or
twenty churches, delivered orations, and sang hymns, in honor of the
Deity, and the immortality of the soul, but the attendance became less
and less, and the interest, even of those who were most enthusiastic in
the project, gradually declined. So that, by the end of 1795, scarcely a
vestige of an organized system of religious belief and worship remained

10

218 vinet's miscellanies.

But it will be said, if a positive religion cannot be
universal, at least it may regain on the side of time
what it loses on the side of space. Suppose this grant-
ed ; but it must be acknowledged, that it is only half
of the condition w^e have proposed. We have not
spoken of all times only, but of all places ; so that after
we have been shown a positive religion, mistress of a
corner of the globe, from the origin of the world till now,
we should have a right to reject such an example. We
accept it, nevertheless, by way of accommodation, and
for want of a better. There are religious doctrines of
an amazing antiquity. With some variations in the
details, the elementary principles are permanent, and
these appear unchangeable, as the physical constitution ■
of the nation that professes them, immovable as the
soil that bears them. If they are destitute of universal-
ity, perpetuity ought, in a certain sense, to be accorded
to them. But are they competent, as I have required,
to serve as a moral force ; and are they favorable to the
natural and progressive development of the human race ?
No ; some of them have no harmony with life ; others
pervert the heart, and the social relations ; and all of
them chain the mind in immovable forms. All present
the phenomenon of a people, who, surprised, as one
might believe, by a sudden congelation, preserve in the
most advanced periods of their existence, the attitude,
manners, opinions, costume, institutions, language, in a
word, the whole manner of life, in the midst of which
they were seized by that sudden catalepsy. If, on the

in France. The whole scheme was abandoned as hopeless. No ! Deism
cannot be estabhshed as a positive religion. It fails to meet the wants
of the human soul ; it gives no assurance of the divine favor, and sup-
plies no pledge of a blessed immortality. — T.

A CHARACTERISTIC OF THE GOSPEL. 219

other hand, any one claims that it is the spirit of the
people that has determined their faith, and that their
manners have made their religion, then this religion is
not such as we have required, namely, a doctrine capa-
ble of influencing the life, and determining the conduct.

In going over the different known religions which di-
vide the nations, we shall find none that meets all the
conditions we have laid down. Mohammedism, besides
owing its progress to the power of the sword, fails to
favor the progressive advancement of the human mind,
nay more, represses it. It is not suited to penetrate into
all countries, because it necessarily carries along with
it polygamy and despotism, antagonisms of civilization.
The religion of Hindostan fails to be moral, and is un-
favorable to culture and liberty ; everywhere it would
need its own earth and sky, for which alone it is made.
Universality is equally wanting to the Jewish religion ;
for it does not desire it, nay more, repels it. It is a re-
ligion entirely national and local ; beyond Palestine it
is exiled. The deficiency which exists in all the reli-
gions we have just named, exists also in all others.
They want universality, perpetuity, morality, and sym-
pathy with progress.

Such already is the answer to the question we have
proposed ; for no positive religion is found which has
united all the conditions enumerated. We may say,
with some degree of confidence, that such a thing is not
possible. If it were, would it not have happened ? And
if it has not happened, will it ever happen ?

But even in consulting the nature of things, inde-
pendent of the teachings of history, the same answer
will be obtained. No man can give a religion to hu-
manity. If natural religion be referred to, it is nature

220 vinet's miscellanies.

that gives it ; and all that a man can do is to give form
to its dogmas, by reducing its teachings to order ; he
can only restore to humanity what he has received from
it. But, is it a positive religion which is referred to ;
one, I mean, the dogmas of which human reason could
not, of itself, have discovered ? Then, I ask, what ele-
vation of heart, of imagination, of reason, what stretch
of genius, what wondrous divination, are supposed to
belong to a man, to admit that the dogmas of his inven-
tion, the dogmas which nature has not given, shall be
received in all countries, shall preserve their adaptation
in all times, shall be applicable to all the conditions of
humanity and of society, in a word, shall be able to con-
stitute, and shall actually constitute, the religion of the
human race !

It is with some degree of inconsiderateness that some
men are spoken of as advancing beyond their age, and
impressing their own individual character upon genera-
tions. These are, most of the time, men who have,
better than others, understood, reduced into forms more
precise, and expressed with greater energy, the domi-
nant opinions of their era. They have proved what
their age carried in its bosom. They have concentra-
ted, in the burning-glass of their genius, the rays of truth,
which, scattered in the world, have not yet been able to
set it on fire. But their genius, the faithful and power-
ful expression of a time and a country which have made
them what they are, cannot be as vast as the genius of
humanity. Men have done the work of men, partial,
relative, limited. But let an individual, isolating him-
self from his country, from his time, nay more, from his
individuality, divine the fact, the idea, the doctrine
which shall renew, convert, and vivify mankind in all

A CHARACTERISTIC OF THE GOSPEL. 221

times and in all places, — such an one is not a man, he
is a God !

Observe particularly that I do not require that his re-
ligion shall become, in fact, the religion of all times, of
all places, and of all men. In the first instance, he must
have time to establish it ; and we do not claim that at
the beginning of its career it shall conquer the whole
world. Further, we have not all time before us ; and
inasmuch as the future fate of the world cannot be fully
ascertained, we are not able to say with precision that
a thing is of all time. Finally, all true religion supposes
freedom, and freedom supposes the possibility of resist-
ance on the part of individuals. We shall demand only,
and the matter must be thoroughly understood, that a
sufficient number of experiments have proved that the
doctrine in question is such that no climate, no degree
of culture, no form of politics, no circumstances of time
or place, no physical or moral constitution, are a barrier
to it, a fatal limit which it cannot pass ; or, to express
ourselves more briefly, that it correspond to the univer-
sal and permanent wants of humanity, independent of
all accidental, temporary, and local circumstances.

If there is a religion of God upon the earth, it ought
to have this character of universality and perpetuity.
For w^io can doubt that the love of God embraces all
mankind ; or suppose that he could not speak to all
mankind ? In such a case, God cannot have in view
one time, one country, one people only, but all who pos-
sess the heart of humanity. When he speaks, it is for
the whole human race. Should it please him to distin-
guish one nation among the nations of the earth, it
would yet be for the sake of the human family. What
he might say to that people in particular would not have

222 vinet's miscellanies.

an infinite and eternal range ; that alone would be in-
vested with such a character, which, through that sep-
arate nation, would be addressed to universal humanity.
His revelation would not constitute the fleeting exist-
ence of one nation, except, by this means, to form a
people taken out of all the nations of the earth, a spirit-
ual people, a nation of holy souls.

We return, then, to the proposition, and say : If such
a religion exists, it must be from God. It is on this
ground, that is to say, its universality, that we have al-
ready acknowledged natural religion to be from him.
But if, besides natural religion, there is in the world a
positive religion, invested with the character we have in
view, we maintain that it is also from God. Because it
belongs to God alone to form an adequate conception of
man, whom he has made, and meet the wants of his en-
tire nature ; because, in consequence of this, God only
knows how to speak to man ; because he is confined to
no places, and restricted by no circumstances. And if
the arbitrary appearance of the principles of a positive
religion arrests our attention, let us reflect that what is
necessary for God, and a consequence of his nature, may
very w^ell appear arbitrary to us ; and that what is
strange and unexpected in his revelations, is not less the
necessary and indispensable result of his perfections,
the faithful and spontaneous imprint of his character
and relations to the world.

Let us, then, hold for certain, that if there is in the
world a positive religion, which, fitted to control the
life, and favorable to the progressive advancement of
the human mind, finds no limits in any circumstances
of time and place, such a religion is from God.

A CHARACTERISTIC OF THE GOSPEL. 223

This being settled, let us inquire, if there is such a
religion.

A little more than eighteen hundred years ago, a man
appeared in an obscure corner of the world. I do not
say, that a long succession of predictions had announced
the advent of this man ; that a long train of miracles
had marked, with a divine seal, the nation from which
he was to spring, and the word itself which announced
him ; that from the heights of a far distant future he had
projected his shadow to the feet of our first parents ex-
iled from Paradise ; in a word, that he was encircled
and authenticated by an imposing array of proofs. I
only say that he preached a religion. It is not natural
religion ; — the doctrines of the existence of God and the
immortality of the soul are everywhere taken for grant-
ed in his words, but never proved. It does not consist
of ideas deduced from the primitive concessions of
reason. What he teaches, what forms the foundation
and essence of his system, are things which confound
reason ; things to which reason can find no access. It
proclaims a God upon earth, a God man, a God poor, a
God crucified. It proclaims vengeance overwhelming
the innocent, pardon raising the guilty from the deepest
condemnation, God himself the victim of man, and man
forming one and the same person with God. It pro-
claims a new birth, without which man cannot be saved.
It proclaims the sovereignty of the grace of God, and
the entire freedom of man.*

* When our author speaks of God as a victim, and subjected to suf-
fering, he must always be understood as referring to God manifest in
the flesli, tliat is, to Jesus Christ in his whole natm-e as human and di-
vine. Some, I know, object to such expressions as those in the text, as
being unpliilosophical and unscriptural. But in this they may be mis-

224 vinet's miscellanies.

I do not soften its teachings. I present them in their
naked form. I seek not to justify them. No, — you
can, if you will, be astonished and alarmed at these
strange dogmas ; — do not spare yourselves in this par-
ticular. But when you have wondered sufficiently at
their strangeness, I shall present another thing for your
a,stonishment. These strange doctrines have conquered
the world ! Scarcely made known in poor Judea, they
took possession of learned Athens, gorgeous Corinth,
and proud Rome. They found confessors in shops, in
prisons, and in schools, on tribunals and on thrones.
Vanquishers of civilization, they triumphed over bar-
barism. They caused to pass under the same yoke the
degraded Roman and the savage Scandinavian. The
forms of social life have changed, — society has been dis-
solved and renewed, — these have endured. Nay more,

taken. Our pliilosopliy of the divine nature is exceedingly shallow and
miperfect. God is not the cold and imjiassive Being which it too often
represents him. Perfect and ever blessed he certainly is ; but that he
is incapable of everything like sentiment or emotion, is exceedingly
questionable. Such is not the view given of him in the Scriptures. Are
we not expressly informed that the Word was made flesh, that he might
suffer death for every man, and that it behooved him in all things to be
made like unto his bretlu-en ? If he suffered at all, did not his whole
being suffer ? Was there not a profound and mysterious sympathy be-
tween his human and his divine natures ? How else can we accoimt for
the infinite value and efficacy attached to his sufferings and death ?
How else explain the adoring reverence of the primitive church in view
of his agony in the garden and on the cross ? Besides, suffering is by
no means an evidence of imperfection ; nay, the experience of it may be
necessary to the highest felicity, on the part even of pure and perfect
natures. In this respect the sinless and adorable Saviour was made
perfect through sufferings, as much, perhaps, for his own sake as for
oui's. But this is a subject which philosophy does not understand ; and
we can only say devoutly, " Great is the mystery of godliness ; God was
manifest in the flesh !" — T.

A CHARACTERISTIC OF THE GOSPEL. 225

the church which professed them, has endeavored to
diminish their power, by beginning to corrupt their pu-
rity. Mistress of traditions and depositary of knowl-
edge, she has used her advantages against the doctrines
she ought to have defended ; but they have endured.
Everywhere, and at all times, in cottages and in pala-
ces, have they found souls to whom a Redeemer was
precious and regeneration necessary. Moreover, no
other system, philosophical or religious, has endured.
Each made its own era, and each era had its own idea ;
and, as a celebrated writer has developed it, the religious
sentiment, left to itself, selected forms adapted to the
time, which it broke to pieces when that time had passed
aw^ay. But the doctrine of the cross continued to re-
appear. If it had been embraced only by one class of
persons, that even were much, that perhaps were inex-
plicable ; but you find the followers of the cross among
soldiers and citizens, among the rich and the poor, the
bold and the timid, the wise and the ignorant. This
doctrine is adapted to all, everywhere, and in all times.
It never grows old. Those who embrace it never find
themselves behind their age ; they understand it, they
are understood by it ; they advance with it and aid its
progress. The religion of the cross appears nowhere
disproportionate to civiUzation. On the contrary, civ-
ilization advances in vain ; it always finds Christianity
before it.

Do not suppose that Christianity, in order to place
itself in harmony with the age, will complacently leave
out a single idea. It is from its inflexibility that it is
strong ; it has no need to give up anything in order to
be in harmony with whatever is beautiful, legitimate
and true ; for Christianity is itself the type of perfection.

10*

226 vinet's miscellanies.

It is the same to-day as in the time of the Reformers, in
the time of the Fathers of the chmxh, in the time of the
Apostles and of Jesus Christ. Nevertheless it is not a
religion which flatters the natural man ; and worldlings,
in keeping at a distance from it, furnish sufficient evi-
dence that Christianity is a system foreign to their na-
tures. Those who dare not reject it, are forced to
soften it down. They divest it of its barbarisms, its
myths, as they are pleased to call them ; they render it
even reasonable, — but, strange to say, when it is rea-
sonable, it has no power ; and in this, is like one of the
most wonderful creatures in the animal world, which,
when it loses its sting, dies. Zeal, fervor, holiness, and
love disappear with these strange doctrines ; the salt
has lost its savor, and none can tell how to restore it.
But, on the other hand, do you not, in general, perceive
when there is a revival of these doctrines, Christianity
is inspired with new life, faith is reanimated and zeal
abounds ? Do not ask, Upon what soil, or in what sys-
tem, must grow these precious plants ? You can reply
in advance, that it is only in the rude and rough soil of
orthodoxy, under the shadow of those mysteries which
confound human reason, and from which it loves to re-
move as far as possible.

This, then, among all religions, is the only one which
is eternally young. But perhaps physical nature will
do what moral nature cannot. Perhaps climates will
arrest that angel which carries the everlasting gospel
through the heavens. Perhaps a certain corporeal or-
ganization may be necessary for the reception of the
truth. But you may pass with it from Europe to Af-
rica, from Ethiopia to Greenland, from the Atlantic to
the Southern sea. Everywhere will this message be:

A CHARACTERISTIC OF THE GOSPEL. 227

heard ; everywhere fill an acknowledged void ; every-
where perfect and renew the life. The soul of the ne-
gro slave receives from it the same impressions as the
soul of Isaac Newton. The lofty intelligence of the
one and the stupidity of the other have, at least, one
great thought in common. And let it be well re-
marked, the effects are everywhere the same. The
cross sheds a light that illumines all. As if by instinct,
not by painful reasoning, they reach, everywhere, the
same conclusions, recognize the same duties, and, in
different forms, commence the same life. Wherever
Christianity is introduced, civilized man draws nearer
to nature, while the savage rises towards civilization ;
each in his turn, and in an inverse sense, m.akes some
steps towards a common centre, which is that of true
sociability and true civilization.

It will, perhaps, be objected, that this civilizing power
of Christianity is found only in the sublime morality of
the gospel ; and that it is not by the positive doctrines,
but rather in spite of them, that savages are converted,
and then civilized. This assertion is false in whatever
aspect it may be viewed.

In readily conceding to the evangelical morality a
decided superiority to all other systems of morals, we
wish it to be observed, that this superiority holds less
with reference to the precepts, than their basis or mo-
tives ; in other words, the mysterious and divine facts
which distinguish Christianity as a positive religion.
The gospel has not invented morality ; many of its
finest maxims were, for a long time previous, in circu-
lation in the world. The gospel has not so much pro-
mulged them, as placed them on a new foundation,
and quickened them by a new spirit. The glory of the

228 vinet's miscellanies

gospel consists less in announcing a new morality, than
in giving power to practise the old.

But let us not dispute. We admit that the morality
of the gospel contains many things absolute^ new ; but
it must be conceded that there was in the world, and
particularly in the writings of the ancient sages, as fine
a morality ; and that, if morality has a power within it-
self, an intrinsic virtue, we should expect to see practice
in some proportion to theory. But in former times,
now, and always, in each man, and in humanity gene-
rally, we are struck with a singular disparity between
principles and conduct ; and are constrained to ac-
knowledge, that in this sphere, at least, what is done
responds poorly to what is known ; and that the life by
no means harmonizes with convictions. The knowl-
edge of morality is not morality ; and the science of
duty is not the practice of duty.

These general remarks are fully confirmed by the
liistory of the evangelization of the heathen. If one
fact is known and acknowledged, it is that it has never
been by the preaching of morality, — not even of evan-
gelical morality, — that their hearts have been gained.
Nay, it is not more so by the teaching of natural relig-
ion. Pious Christians, deceiving themselves on this
point, wished to conduct the people of Greenland me-
thodically by natural to revealed religion. As long as
they rested in these first elements, their preaching did
not affect, did not gain a single soul ; but the moment
that, casting away their human method, they decided
to follow that of Christ and of God, the barriers fell
before them, and once more the folly of the cross was
found to be wiser than the wisdom of man. The
schools teach us to proceed from the known to the un-r

A CHARACTERISTIC OF THE GOSPEL. 229

known, from the simple to the composite ; but in the
kingdom of God, things occur which derange all our
ideas. There we must begin at once with the un-
known, the composite, the extraordinary. It is from
revealed rehgion that man ascends to natural religion.
He is transported at a single bound into the centre of
mysteries. He is shown God incarnate — the God man
crucified, before he is shown God in glory. He is
shown the system before the details, the end before the
beginning. Do you wish to know why ? It is that the
true road to knowledge in religion is not from God to
man, but from man to God ; that before knowing him-
self he cannot know God ; that the view of his misery,
and of his sins, conducts him to the atonement, and the
atonement reveals to him, in their fulness, the perfec-
tions of his Creator. It is, to repeat the celebrated
saying of Augustine, that " man must descend into the
hell of his own heart, before he can ascend to the heaven
of God." The Christian religion is not merely the knowl-
edge of God, but the knowledge of the relations of man
with God. It is the view of these relations which sheds
the most light upon the character and attributes of God
himself And hence it is quite correct to say that re-
vealed religion, which is precisely the discovery of these
relations, conducts to natural religion, namely, to that
which is more elementary, to the idea of the infinite,
whence natural religion is derived, to religious feeling
and the conceptions which are called natural, but which
ought to be called supernatural. These are, ordinarily,
but little familiar, seldom present, and not altogether
natural to our minds. In fact, how many men has the
gospel taken from the depths of materialism, and con-
ducted, b^' the way of Christian doctrine, to a belief

230 vinet's miscellanies.

in the existence of God, and the immortaUty of the
soul.*

It is, then, the doctrines, the mysteries, the paradoxes
of the gospel, we must carry to the savage, if we would
gain his heart to natural religion, from which he is es-
tranged, and to pure morality, of which he knows still
less. But even if our adversaries could reverse all this,
they would not the less remain under the pressure of an
overwhelming difficulty. If natural religion and moral-
ity suffice to make converts, will they not suffice also to
make preachers ? Find us, among those who do not
believe in the positive doctrines of Christianity, men
disposed to undertake that laborious and dangerous mis-
sion. Come, let the philosophers and rationalists bestir
themselves ; let us see their faith by their works ; let
their zeal serve to prove, to corroborate their system ;
let them, from love of morality and natural religion,
quit parents, friends, fortunes, habits, plunge into an-
cient forests, traverse burning plains of sand, brave the
influences of a deadly climate, in order to reach, con-
vert and save some souls ! Might they not do for the

* The following, taken from the Biblical Repository, Vol. i., second
series, p. 383, is a striking illustration of what our author asserts : —

" Francis Junius, whom, at his death, it was remarked by Scaliger,
the whole world lamented as its instructor, was recovered from atheism,
in a remarkable manner, by simply perusing St, John i. 1-5, Persuaded
by his father to read the New Testament, ' At first sight,' he says, ' I
fell unexpectedly on that august chapter of St, John the evangelist, " lu
the beginning was the Word," &c. I read part of the chapter, and was
so struck with what I read, that I instantly perceived the divinity of
the subject, and the authority and majesty of the Scripture to surpass
greatly all human eloquence. I shuddered in my body, my mind was
confounded, and I was so strongly affected all that day, that I hardly
knew who I myself was ; but thou, Lord my God, didst remember me
in thy boundless mercy, and receive me, a lost sheep, into thy fold.' "

A CHARACTERISTIC OF THE GOSPEL. 231

kingdom of God half of what so many courageous
travellers have done and suffered for science, or the
temporal prosperity of their country ? What ! no one
stir ! no one even feel ! This appeal has not moved a
single soul of those friends of religion and morality, for
whom the cross is folly ! Why, it would appear that
they had no love for God, no care for souls, none of the
pious proselytism found among the partisans of the
strange doctrines of the fall of man, a bloody expiation,
and a new birth ! My brethren, does this evidence sat-
isfy you, and do you believe that there can be any other
means, than by these doctrines, of establishing the king-
dom of God on the earth ? Thus Christianity is clearly
the positive religion, which combines all the conditions
enumerated in our question.

These are not arguments we present to the adversa-
ries of Christianity ; they are facts. They have only
to recognize this striking characteristic of Christianity,
to see, with us, that angel who flies through the heavens,
having the everlasting gospel to preach to all that dwell
upon the earth, and to every tribe, and tongue, and peo-
ple. These are facts which we claim to offer them.
If they are false, let them be proved so. If they are
true, let any one dispute the conclusion, if he can. Let
him explain by natural causes, a phenomenon unique in
its kind. Let him assign, if he can, a limit to that
power, that influence of Christianity. But will any one
give himself the trouble of doing this ? In truth, it is
more easy to shut the eyes, and, repeating with confi-
dence some hearsays, to assure us that, according to
the best information, Christianity has gone by ; that it
has had its era to make, and has made it, — its part to
play, and has played it; and that "the only homage we

232 vinet's miscellanies.

can render it now, is to throw flowers upon its tomb."
This tomb would be that of the human race. Christi-
anity yet preserves the world from the wrath of God.
It is, perhaps, with a view to its propagation, that events
are pressing onward, and that nations are agitated with
a fearful crisis. Shall a few sceptics, with frivolous
hearts, give the lie to the most high God, and the im-
mense pressure of circumstances prove a false standard
of providence ? Let us pray for the progress of the
everlasting gospel, and the conversion of those proud
spirits who, till now, have disdained to recognize it. Let
us pray that it may constantly become more precious to
ourselves, and that its laws may be as sacred as its
promises are sweet.

NATURAL FAITH.

"Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed."— John xx. 29.

-^^

The apostles did not profess to convey to the world
anything but a message, good news, the news of that
fact which the angels announced to the shepherds of
Bethelehem, in these words : " Glory to God in the
highest ; on earth peace, good-will to men !" Faithful,
but not indifferent messengers, deeply moved themselves,
by the good news they carried to the world, they spoke
of it with all the warmth of joy and love. Preachers
of righteousness, they urged with force, the practical
consequences of the facts they announced, and in their
admirable instructions, a leading sentiment, gratitude,
was expanded into a multitude of duties and virtues,
the combination of Avhich forms the purest morality.
But at this point, their ministry terminated ; and cer-
tainly they made no pretension of introducing a new
philosophy into the world. Nevertheless, they have
done so, and those who, in modern times, devote them-
selves to ascertain what ideas are concealed under the
great facts of the gospel, to penetrate into its spirit, and,
if we may so express ourselves, construct the system
of it, cannot refrain from admiration, while reflecting on
the connection of parts in that great whole, their per-

234 vinet's miscellanies.

feet harmony with one another, and the harmony of
each, with the permanent characteristics and inextin-
guishable wants of human nature. This philosophical
character of the gospel would have been striking, even
if the apostles had appeared to impress it voluntarily
upon their instructions ; but how much more is this the
case, and how well fitted to make us perceive the divin-
ity of the gospel, when we see that its writers had no
consciousness of the fact, and that it was in spite of
themselves, so to speak, that it was stamped upon their
work ! This philosophical character would have been
striking even in a simple religion, one apparently ra-
tional, approaching, in a word, to natural religion, as
much as a positive one can ; but how much more strik-
ing it is, when we consider that this religion is a com-
plete tissue of strange doctrines, the first view of which
appals the reason. If these doctrines, so arbitrary in
appearance, involve ideas eminently natural, and a sys-
tem perfectly consistent, who will not be struck with
it ; and who will not wish to ascertain, by what secret,
reason the most sublime springs from the folly of the
cross, philosophy from dogma, and light from mystery ?
Nowhere, as it appears to us, is this philosophical
character of Christianity so vividly impressed, as on
the doctrine of the gospel concerning faith. Not only
is the general necessity of faith recognized, as in all re-
ligions ; but this principle holds in it a place, enjoys an
importance, and exhibits effects, which prove that the
gospel alone has seized the principle in all its force, and
applied it in all its extent ; in a word, that it alone has
thoroughly discovered, and fully satisfied the wants of
human nature. The following proposition, then, will
form a subject worthy of our attention. The religions

NATURAL FAITH. 235

of man, and the religion of Jesus Christ, are, with refer-
ence to the principle of faith, philosophically true, with
this exception, that in the first, there is only a feeble
and unprofitable beginning of truth, and in the second,
the religion of Jesus Christ, it is found in all its pleni-
tude, and all its power. To prove this proposition, we
propose to develop, in its various applications, the lan-
guage of our Saviour : " Blessed are they who have
not seen, and yet have believed."

I remark, first, that human religions have rendered
homage to philosophical truth, by placing faith at their
foundation ; or rather, that they are themselves a hom-
age *^o that truth, inasmuch as, by their existence alone,
they have proclaimed the necessity and dignity of faith.
This is the first idea we have to develop.

The necessity and dignity of faith ; — nothing can be
more philosophical, nothing more reasonable than this
idea. And yet, if we are to believe vulgar declama-
tion, and the sayings of people of the world, faith can
be the portion only of weak minds and diseased imagi-
nations. On the contrary, it is, in a certain degree, the
common heritage of the human race ; and in the high-
est degree, the peculiar gift of elevated characters, of
noble spirits, and the source of whatever in the world
bears the impress of greatness.

The entire life of man, considered in its essence, is
composed of three things, thought, feeling, action.
Feeling is the motive of action ; knowledge is the point
of departure for both, and therefore is the basis of life.
From this every thing proceeds, to this everything re-
turns. Before all, it is necessary to know ; but the first
glance enables us to see how little proportion there is
between the means of knowledge and the multiplicity

236 vinet's miscellanies.

of its objects. It is impossible, indeed, that we should
see everything, and have experience, in all the cases
in which knowledge is desirable. A vast chasm, then,
very frequently extends between knowledge and action ;
over that abyss a bridge is thrown by faith, which, rest-
ing on a given fact, upon a primary notion, extends it-
self over the void, and conveys us to the other side.
Some kind of experience, physical or moral, a view
external, or internal, of observation or intuition, is the
point of departure, or the reason of faith. This first
fact itself neither demands nor requires faith ; but its
consequences, its logical deductions, are not embodied,
do not become a reality for man but by means of faith,
which presents them to his mind, and constructs for
him a world beyond that which personal experience has
revealed.*

* That all science, physical and metaphysical, is ultimately based
upon faith is conceded by the profoundest philosophers. Certain funda-
mental axioms, or intuitions, must be taken for granted before a single
step can be taken in any department of inquiry. In a word, the ulti-
mate basis of all knowledge is a matter of faith. Upon this point we
quote the following strikmg passage from Jouffroy's " Philosophical Mis-
cellanies."

" This," (confidence in the ultimate decisions of our mind,) " is the en-
tire foundation of the behef of humanity ; when a man holds to a prop-
osition, if you go back to the principle of his conviction, you will al-
ways find that it rests on the testimony of one or more of his faculties ;
an authority which resolves itself into that of intelligence, which would
be altogether without value, if intelligence were not constituted so as to
reflect things as they are.

" But how is it demonstrated that such is the constitution of intelli-
gence ? We not only have no demonstration of this kind, but it is im-
possible we should have one. In fact, we can demonstrate nothing, ex-
cept with our intelligence ; now, our intelligence cannot be admitted to
demonstrate the veracity of our intelligence ; for, in order to beheve the
demonstration, we must previoasly admit what the demonstration uu-

NATURAL FAITH. 237

We are accustomed to oppose reason and faith to
each other ; we ought rather to say, that the one com-
pletes the other, and that they are two pillars, one of
which could not, without the other, sustain life. Man
is pitied, because he cannot know everything, or rather
because he cannot see everything, and is thence com-
pelled to believe. But this is to complain of one of his
privileges. Direct knowledge does not call into requi-
sition the living forces of the soul ; it is a passive state,
honored by no spontaneity. But in the act of faith,
(for it is an act, and not a state,) the soul is in some
sort creative ; if it does not create the truth, it draws
it from itself, appropriates, realizes it. Under its influ-
ence, an idea becomes a fact, a fact forever present.
Thought, supported by a power of the soul, then man-
ifests all its dignity in revealing its true independence ;
man multiplies his life, extends his universe, and attains
the perfect stature of a thinking being. His dignity is
derived from believing, not from knowing.

Faith is invested with a character still more elevated,
when it takes its point of departure from the word of a
witness, whose soul ours has penetrated, and recognized
its authority. Then, under a new name, that of con-
fidence, it attaches itself to the noblest elements of our
nature, sympathy, gratitude and love ; it is the condi-
tion of the social relations, and constitutes their true
beauty. Far from contradicting reason, it is the fact

dertakes to prove, namely, the veracity of intelligence ; which would be
a vicious circle. We therefore have, and can have, no proof of the fact
on which all our beUef reposes ; that is, that human belief is not de-
ceptive."

Faith in the testimony of our own minds, as to ultimate principles, is
thus the foundation of all knowledge. Faith supports philosophy as
well as religion. — T.

238 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

of a sublime reason, and one might say, that it is to the
soul, what genius is to the intellect. When the apostles
recognized, by his words, their risen Master, when
Thomas, sceptical as to their testimony, wished to put
his finger into the wounds of Jesus, — who was rational,
if not the apostles, and irrational, if not Thomas ?
And, notwithstanding, for how many people would not
Thomas be the type of prudence, if he had not become
by tradition, that of doubt !

Let us resume. That power which supplies evidence,
that power, which, at the moment when a man, advan-
cing upon the ocean of thought, begins to lose his foot-
ing, and feels himself overwhelmed by the waves, lifts
him up, sustains him, and enables him to swim through
the foam of doubt to the pure and tranquil haven of
certainty, is faith. It is by faith, according to the
apostles, (Heb. xi. 1,) that what we hope for is brought
nigh, and what we see not is made visible. It is faith
which supplies the place of sight, the testimony of
the senses, personal experience and mathematical
evidence.*

* The facts of which we have no personal knowledge or experience,
are, so to speak, without us. They have, what the Germans call, an ob-
jective, but not a subjective reality. Tliey exist, but, so far as we are
concerned, might as well not exist. We cannot be said, in any proper
sense of the word, to possess them. How, then, do they become ours ?
By faith in the testimony of others, is the common reply. But a mere
belief, or a passive reception of testimony, would leave them as much
without us as ever. They would exist for us, but not in us. But faith
is an active j)rinciple. It seizes and appropriates the truth, and lodges
it as a Uving element in the soul. Truth is made for the soul, and the
soul for truth. It sees it by a sort of intuition. The moment it comes
to the soul, it comes to its own. It finds a home there. But the soul
itself is a truth and a power. It has laws and energies of its own,
wliich it unparts to all the reahties which C(jme to it. lu a word, it has

NATURAL FAITH. 239

Faith is not the forced and passive adherence of a
spirit vanquished by proofs ; it is a power of the soul,
as inexpUcable in its principle as any of the native
qualities which distinguish man amongst his fellow-
creatures ; a power which does not content itself with
receiving the truth, but seizes it, embraces it, identifies
itself with it, and permits itself to be carried by it to-
wards all the consequences which it indicates or com-
mands.

Faith is not credulity ; the most credulous man is not
always he who believes the most strongly. A belief,
easily adopted, is as easily lost ; and the firmest convic-
tions are generally those which have cost the most.
Credulity is but the servile compliance of a feeble
mind ; faith demands the entire sphere and energy of
the soul.

Let us add, that it is a capacity and a function, the
measure and intensity of which vary with individuals,
while the direct evidence is for all equal and identical.
Among the partisans of the same doctrine, and the
equally sincere defenders of the same truth, some be-

the power of intuition and the power of faith. Faith is thus, as our au-
thor shows, a sort of mental creation, giving, as it does, reality and
power to the invisible and the future. " It is the substance (realization)
of things hoped for, the evidence (conviction, vision) of things not seen."
By means of it we know what would otherwise be unknown, and do
what would otherwise be undone. It is an energetic principle, and, in
the department of religion, " worketh by love, and overcometh the
world." By its aid, we are made to live, even while on earth, in the
spiritual and eternal world. " We walk by faith, not by sight." Yet
faith, as Yinet beautifully remarks, is tlie vision of the souL

" The want of sii^lit she well supplies,
She makes the pearly gates appear,
Far into distant worlds she pries,
And brinys eteruul glories iiciU."

240 vinet's miscellanies.

lieve more firmly ; the object of their faitli is more real,
— is nearer and more vividly present to their minds.
While others, whose conviction is full and free from
doubts, do not possess so strong a conception, so vivid
a view of the object of faith.

It might be supposed that when reasoning has pro-
duced conviction, there can be no further use or place
for faith. This is a mistake. Reasoning leaves the
truth without us. To become a part of our life, a part
of ourselves, it requires to be vivified by faith. If the
soul* concur not with the intellect, certainly the most
legitimate would want strength and vivacity. There
is a courage of the intellect like the courage of the soul,
and thoroughly to believe a strange truth, supposes, in
some cases, a power which all do not possess. In vain
will some persons try to do this ; for the conclusions to
which they have come by a series of logical deductions,
scarcely produce upon their minds an impression of re-
ality. A great difference will always exist between
reasoning and seeing, between deduction and experi-
ment. It would seem, after all, that the mind has yet
need of sight ; that it does not yet possess that strong
and efficacious conviction which it derives from a sen-
sible impression ; and it is for this that faith is useful ;
it is a sort of sight. Moreover, even when we have
gathered together all the elements of certainty, the most
satisfactory reasoning does not always in itself secure
perfect repose to our minds. It might be said that, in
the case of many persons, the more the road from the
premises to the conclusion was long and circuitous, the

* Here, as in many other instances, the term soul is used in a pecu-
liar and restricted sense, as signifying the moral, sentimental and imagina-
tive part of our nature. — T.

NATURAL FAITH. 241

more their conviction loses in fulness, as if it were fa-
tigued by its wanderings, and had arrived exhausted at
the end of its reasoning. Often will an obstinate doubt
place itself in the train of the most logical deductions, a
pecuUar doubt, which brings no proofs, which makes no
attempt to legitimate itself, but which, after all, throws
a shadow over our best acquired convictions. When
it is not born from within, it comes from without;
spread in the crowd that surrounds us, it besieges us
with the mass of all strange unbeliefs. It is not known
how difficult it is to believe in the midst of a multitude
which does not believe. Here is a noble exercise of
faith ; here its grandeur appears. This faith in con-
tested truths, when calm, patient, and modest, is one of
the essential attributes of all those men who have been
great in " the hierarchy of minds." What is it that
gives so much sublimity, in our imaginations, to the
great names of Galileo, Descartes and Bacon, unless it
be their faith in the truths with which thev had en-
riched their minds ? A Newton reigns with majesty
over the world of science, but he reigns without com-
bat ; his image is that of a sovereign, not of a hero.
But we feel more than admiration for the great names
I have mentioned ; gratitude, mingled with tenderness
and respect, is the only sentiment which can become
us. Our soul thanks them for not having doubted, for
having preserved their faith in the midst of universal
dissent, and for having heroically dispensed with the
adherence of their contemporaries.

Shall I say this even ? Yes, but to our shame. Faith
finds its use even in the facts of personal experience.
Such is our mind, such, at least, is it become, that it
distinguishes between external and internal experience,

11

242 vinet's miscellanies.

and, yielding without hesitation to the testimony of the
senses, it costs it an effort to yield to the testimony of
consciousness. It requires submission, and by conse-
quence, a species of faith, to admit those primitive
truths which it carries within it, which have no ante-
cedents, which bring no other warrant but their own
existence, which cannot be proved, which can only be
felt. Irresistible in their nature, still some require an
effort in order to believe them. Have we not seen
some such who have endeavored to draw their notions
of justice from those of utility, so as to go back, by this
circuit, to matter, and consequently to physical experi-
ence ?* It might be said that it was painful to them to
see the road to knowledge shortened before them, that
they regretted the absence of that circuitous path which

* Our author here refers to the sensual philosophy of such men as
Condillac and Helvetius, who, taking Locke's idea, that all our knowl-
edge is derived from sensation and reflection, have carried it out to the
most extreme and absm-d consequences, proving thus that there must be
some defect in the system of Locke, or at least in his method of stating
it. These material and Epicurean philosophers refer all our notions of
justice to utihty, all om* feelings of reverence, affection and gratitude to
mere emotion and sensation. In their analysis, the loftiest sentiments
are reduced to the images and impressions of material forms. The very
soul is materialized, and the eternal God is either blotted from existence
or represented as the shadowy and infinite refinement of physical ex-
istence.

The Abbe Condillac, who was a worthy man, and an elegant writer,
never intended to go so far as this, but his successors soon ran down liis
system to absolute atheism, which, for some time, was the prevalent
philosophy in France. A better system is beginning to prevail there ;
still, even the spiritual philosophy is liable to run to the same extreme
as gross materialism. The great difficulty witli such philosophers as
Cousin and some others, is, that they feel themselves superior to the
"Word of God. Their transcendentalism is liable to become as sceptical
and irreligious as the sensualism of Helvetius and Voltaii-e. — T.

NATURAL FAITH. 243

God wished to spare them ; and it is this strange preju-
dice that obhges us, in some sort, to do violence to the
nature of things, and exhibit, as an act of faith, what is
only a manifestation of evidence.

However this may be, faith, that is to say, in all pos-
sible spheres the vision of the invisible, and the absent
brought nigh, is the energy of the soul, and the energy
of life. We do not go too far in saying that it is the
point of departure for all action ; since to act is to quit
the firm position of the present, and stretch the hand
into the future. But this, at least, is certain, that faith
is the source of everything in the eyes of man, which
bears a character of dignity and force. Vulgar souls
wish to see, to touch, to grasp ; others have the eye of
faith, and they are great ! It is always by having faith
in others, in themselves, in duty, or in the Divinity,
that men have done great things. Faith has been, in
all time, the strength of the feeble, the salvation of the
miserable. In great crises, in grand exigences, the fa-
vorable chance has always been for him who hoped
against hope. And the greatness of individuals or of
nations may be measured precisely by the greatness of
their faith.

It was by faith that Leonidas, charged with three
hundred men for the salvation of Greece, encountered
eight hundred thousand Persians. His country had
sent him to die at Thermopylae. He died there. What
he did was by no means reasonable, according to ordi-
nary views. All the probabilities were against him ;
but in throwing into the balance the weight of his lofty
soul, and three hundred heroic deaths, he did violence
to fortune. His death, as one has happily said, was
" well laid out." Greece, united by so great an exam-

244 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

pie, pledged herself to be invincible. And the same
spirit of faith, — faith, I mean, in her own power, — was
the principle of all those actions in that famous Persian
war which secm'ed the independence of Greece.

What was it that sustained amid the wastes of the
ocean, that intrepid mortal who has given us a new
world ? It was an ardent faith. His spirit, convinced,
had already touched America, had already trodden its
shores, had there founded colonies and states, and con-
veyed, by a new road, shorter though indirect, the reli-
gion of Jesus Christ to the regions of the rising sun.*
He led his companions to a known land ; he w^ent home.
Thus, from the moment that he received this convic-
tion, with what patience have you seen him go from
sovereign to sovereign, entreating them to accept a
world ! He pursued, during long years, his sublime men-
dicity, pained by refusals, but never affected by con-
tempt, bearing everything, provided only that he should
be furnished with the means of giving to some one that
marvellous land which he had placed in the midst of the
ocean. Amid the dangers of an adventurous naviga-
tion, amid the cries of a mutinous crew, seeing his death
written in the angry eyes of his sailors, he keeps his
faith, he lives by his faith, and asks only three days,
the last of which presents to him his conquest.

What power had the last Brutus, at the moment when
he abandoned his faith ? From the time of his melan-
choly vision, produced by a diminution of that faith,
it might have been predicted, that his own destiny and
that of the republic were finished. He felt it himself;

* That is to say, Columbus believed that by going west, he should
reach the eastern hemisphere, by an easier, yet more indirect route, and
convey to those distant regions the blessings of Christianity. — T.

NATURAL FAITH. 245

it was with a presentiment of defeat that he fought at
PhiHppi. And such a presentiment always reahzes itself.

The Romans, at their origin, persuaded themselves
that they could found an eternal city. This conviction
was the principle of their disastrous greatness. Perpet-
uated from generation to generation, this idea conquered
for them the world. An unheard-of pohcy made them
resolve never to treat with an enemy, except as con-
querors. How much value did they attach to faith,
when, after the battle of Cannae they thanked the im-
prudent A^arro for not having despaired of the salvation
of the republic ? It would certainly make a vicious cir-
cle, to say, we believe in victory, therefore we shall
conquer. But it is not always the people who reason
the best, that are the strongest ; and the power of man
generally lies more in his conviction itself, than in the
goodness of the proofs by which it is sustained.

Whence is derived the long duration of certain forms
of government, and of certain institutions, which to-day
we find so little conformed to ri^ht and reason ? From
the faith of the people, from a sentiment, slightly ra-
tional, and by no means clear, but energetic and pro-
found, a sort of political religion. It is important that a
government should be just, a dynasty beneficent, an in-
stitution reasonable ; but faith, up to a certain point,
can take the place of these things, while these do not
always supply the want of faith. The best institutions,
in respect to solidity and duration, are not the most con-
formed to theory ; faith preserves them better than
reason ; and the most rational are not quite consolidated,
until after the convictions of the mind have become the
property of the heart, until the citizen, no longer search-
ing incessantly for the reasons of submission, obeys by

24G vinet's miscellanies.

a certain lively and voluntai^ impulse, the principle of
which is nothing but faith.

Another thing still more surprising, faith often at-
taches itself to a man ! There are great characters,
powerful wills, to whom is given a mysterious empire
over less energetic natures. The majority of men live
by this faith in powerful men. A few individuals lead
in their orbits the whole human race. They do not
weigh all the reasons which such men give ; they do
not calculate all the chances which they develop ; they
do not judge them, they only believe in them. Many
men, for decision, for action, for faith, follow the impulse
of these privileged natures ! And why should this as-
tonish us ? Their feebleness is transformed into strength
under that powerful influence, and they become capable,
by sympathy, of things which, left to themselves, they
would never have imagined, thought of, nor desired.
Amid dangers, when fear is in all hearts, the crowd de-
rive courage and confidence from the assured words of
a man, who has no one to trust but himself Every one
confides in him who confides in himself, and his auda-
cious hope is often the best resource, in a moment of
general anxiety.

But we leave to others the task of multiplying exam-
ples. We are sure that from all points of history proofs
arise of the truth we exhibit. Wherever man has given
to the future the vividness of the present, and to the
representations of his own mind the power of reality,
wherever man believes in others, in himself, or in God,
he is strong. I mean, with a relative strength ; strong
in one respect, feeble, perhaps, in all others ; strong for
an emergency, feeble, perhaps, beyond it ; strong for
good, strong also for evil.

NATURAL FAITH. 247

Human religions, then, have rendered homage to a
truth, and comprehended a general want, in furnishing
to man an object of faith, superior in its nature to all
others. They have fully acknowledged, that in the
rude path of life, man has not enough, in what he knows,
and in what he sees ; that his most solid supports are
in the region of the invisible, and that he will always be
less strong by outward realities than by faith. They
give strength to numerous souls who cannot confide in
themselves ; and, by placing in heaven succor and hope,
they govern from on high, the events which envelop
and protect the whole life.

CHRISTIAN FAITH.

" Blessed are tbey that have not seen, and yet have believed."— John xx. 29

We have sufficiently exalted human faith, let us abase
it now. Having spoken of its marvels, let us recount
its miseries.

Human religions have recoa-nized a want of our na-
ture ; they have excited and cherished it, but they have
deceived it. In the first place, they were pure inven-
tions of man. Not that faith, considered as a motive
of action, and a source of energy, should absolutely need
to repose upon the truth, but that what is false cannot
last, and must, at the very least, give place to a new
error. Faith in human inventions may be firm and
lively so long as there is a proportion between them and
the degree of existing mental culture. That epoch
past, faith gradually evaporates, leaving dry, so to speak,
one class of society after another ; the dregs of belief
then remain with the dregs of the people ; the more
elevated classes are sceptical or indifferent ; and the
thinkers are fatalists or atheists. If, in some extraordi-
nary cases, the old religion continues, it is, as we have
seen in a preceding discourse, at the expense of intel-
lectual advancement and every other kind of progress.

CHRISTIAN FAITH. 249

These old religions, instead of giving energy to the soul,
exhaust it ; instead of sustaining, oppress it.

In another respect, the faith of the heathen is still
less commendable. It is entirely alien to the moral
perfection of man ; often, indeed, directly opposed to it.
It proposes to console man, it more frequently tyrannizes
over him. Nowhere has it for its final aim to regener-
ate him ; nowhere does it rise to the sublime idea of
causing him to find his happiness in his regeneration.

Shall we say aught respecting the faith of deists ?
Thoroughly to appreciate it in an era like ours, it ought,
at the very first, to be divested of w^hat it has involun-
tarily borrowed from the gospel. The deism of our day
is more or less tinctured with Christianity ; this is the
reason why it does not, like that of antiquity, lose itself
in fatalism. But whatever it may be, and taking it in
its best forms, we must acknowledge that the faith of
the deist is only an opinion ; an opinion too, exceed-
ingly vague and fluctuating, and which, as a motive of
action, does not avail so much as the faith of the hea-
then. Let deism but have its devotees, who, to please
their divinity, permit themselves to be crushed beneath
the wheels of his car, and we will acknowledge that
deism is a religion.

Thus it is not without a kind of pleasure that we be-
hold the sceptics of our day, not knowing what to do
with their natural religion, and haunted by a desire to
believe, frankly addressing themselves to other objects,
and, strange to tell, making for themselves a religion
without a divinity. I do not speak here of the covetous,
who, according to St. Paul, are real idolaters, nor of the
sensual, who, according to the same apostle, " make a
God of their belly." It is of souls not sunk so low, souls

11*

250 vinet's miscellanies.

who, less sceptical originally, have retained their crav-
ing, their thirst for the infinite, but have mistaken its
true import. This craving for God and religion, which
unconsciously torments them, induces them to seek
upon earth some object of adoration ; for it is necessary
that man should adore something. It is difficult to say
how they come to invest with a character of infinity,
objects whose finite nature must continually strike us ;
but it is certain that this illusion is common. Some
make science the object of their passionate devotion.
Others evoke the genius of humanity, or, as they say,
its ideal, devoting to its perfection and triumph, equally
ideal, whatever they possess of affection, of thought
and of povs^er. Others, and, in our day, the greatest
number, have made for themselves a religion of political
liberty. The triumph of certain principles of right in
society, is to them what the kingdom of God and eternal
life are to the Christian. They have their worship,
their devotion, their fanaticism ; and those very men
who smile at the mysticism of Christian sects, have also
their mysticism, less tender and less spiritual, but more
inconceivable.

Thus, in spite of all their eflTorts to the contrary, and,
notwithstanding all their pretensions, each one, we doubt
not, has his religion, each has his worship, each deifies
something, and when he knows not what idea to make
divine, he deifies himself

It was in this way that infidelity commenced in the
garden "of Eden ; and as such was its beginning, such
also is its. final result. In reality all other apotheoses,
if we examine them carefully, come to this. In science,
in reason, in liberty, it is himself to which man renders
homage. But faith in one's self originates a particular

CHRISTIAN FAITH. 251

kind of worship, which it is important to notice. It
consists of a circle, the most vicious and absm^d. The
subject and the object are confounded in the same in-
dividual ; the adorer adores himself, the believer be-
Heves in himself; that is to say, since worship always
supposes a relation of inequality, the same individual
finds himself inferior to himself; and since faith sup-
poses an authority, the authority in this case submits to
the same authority. This confusion of ideas no longer
strikes us when we have permitted the inconceivable
idea to enter our minds that we are something beside
ourselves, — that the branch can subsist without the
trunk ; whence it follows that we are at once above and
beneath ourselves, that the same persons are by turns
their own masters and their own servants. Thus live
by choice and system some men who pass for sages.
They have faith in themselves, in their wisdom, energy,
will and virtue ; and when this faith succeeds in root-
ing itself firmly in the heart, it is capable of producing,
outwardly, great eflects ! I have said great, but upon
this point I refer you to Jesus Christ himself, who says,
" that which is highly esteemed among men is abomi-
nation with God."

Do you prefer this faith in ideas, and this faith in self,
to the faith of the heathen in their imaginary gods ?
And why not see that, independently of the pride and
irreligion which characterize these two forms of faith,
they are, even humanly speaking, extremely defective ?
Here it is pr£)per to notice the imprudence with which
some have exalted subjective faith, according to the
name given it by the schools, above objective faith, by
intimating that the main thing is to beheve firmly,
whatever, in other respects, be the object of faith ; in-

252 vinet's miscellanies.

tending, doubtless, to apply this maxim only to the vari-
ations in the truth, not to the truth itself. But how
easy is the transition from the one to the other. Why
deny that the men of whom we have just been speaking
possess, in a high degree, subjective faith ; and that such
faith may be in them a quick and intense energy, fitted
equally for resistance and movement ? But is this the
only question to be asked respecting it ? Are we to be
satisfied with its being powerful, without demanding an
account of the manner in which it uses its power?
What, then, are the effects of this much vaunted faith
of man in man ? Does it not leave in his interior na-
ture immense chasms ? Does it not cultivate it, to
speak more plainly, in the wrong direction, and in a way
to corrupt it ? When all the fluids of the body are
conveyed to one part of the system, what becomes of
the rest ? When all the devotions of man are addressed
to man, what becomes of God ? And what a monstros-
ity is that faith which has become erroneous and false
to such an extent as this ?

But do not believe that this faith, even in its own
sphere, has all the prerogatives ascribed to it. There
are, I allow, inflexible spirits, whom age only hardens,
and who die in their superstition, fanatical to the last,
touching enlightenment, civilization, and freedom. But
the greater number disabuse and free themselves before
they die. Some of them have been seen smiling at
their former worship, and trampling under their feet
with disdain the ruins of their former idols. The soul
is easily satiated with what is not true ; and disgust is
then proportioned to previous enthusiasm. Ye will
come to this, ye who believe in the regeneration of the
human race by political freedom ; ye who have never

CHRISTIAN FAITH. 253

known that, until man becomes the servant of God, he
can never enjoy true freedom ; ye will sigh over your
dreams when popular passions have perhaps colored
them with blood ! Ye will come to this, ye who are
confident in your native generosity, in the liberality of
your sentiments and the purity of your intentions, in a
word, ye that have faith in yourselves. When a thou-
sand humiliating falls have convinced you of your
weakness, when disabused with reference to others, ye
shall be disabused also with reference to yourselves,
when ye shall exclaim, like Brutus, " O Virtue, thou art
only a phantom !" what will then remain to you ? That
which has remained to so many others, the pleasures of
selfishness or of sensuality, the last bourne of all errors,
the vile residuum of all false systems. If, indeed, it shall
not then be given you to accept in exchange for the
faith which has deserted you, a better faith which will
never desert you, and which it now remains for us to
announce.

We declare to you the faith of the gospel ; study its
characteristics, and become acquainted with its excel-
lence.

Nowhere is the importance of faith estimated so
high as in the gospel. In the first place, you learn, at
the very first glance, that it is faith which saves, not
for time, but for eternity. " By faith ye are saved,''
says St. Paul. " If thou confess Jesus Christ with thy
mouth, and believe with thine heart that God raised
him from the dead, thou shalt be saved." " Christ is
the author of eternal salvation to all them that believe.'*
This is the first characteristic of Christian faith, that
salvation depends on it.

But do not, on this account, consider it as a merito-

254 vixet's miscellanies.

rious act. While in other rehgions faith is an arbitrary
work to which it has pleased the Divinity to attach a
merit and a recompense, a work w^ithout any other
value than an accidental one, communicated to it by
the promise from on high ; in the gospel, faith is repre-
sented as having an intrinsic power, a virtue of its own,
a direct influence upon the life, and by the life upon
salvation. Faith, according to the gospel, saves only
by regenerating. It consists in receiving into the heart
those things which are fitted to change it. The Chris-
tian, with reference to God, to himself, to life, has con-
victions entirely different from those of the world, if,
indeed, the world has upon these subjects anything like
convictions. But such is the doctrine of the gospel,
that when it penetrates a spirit agitated by remorse
and the terrors of the judgment to come, it produces a
joy and gratitude, the inevitable effect of which is to
impel it in a direction opposite to that which it has
hitherto followed. The believer has found peace ; can
he abandon the source of peace ? Can he wander away
to shattered cisterns that can hold no water, when
within his reach he has fountains of living waters
springing up unto everlasting life ? Can he fail to obey
Him, who, for his benefit, became obedient unto death,
even the death of the cross ? Will he not submit to
the providence of that God, who, having given to him
his only-begotten Son, has proved to him that, in all
things. He can desire nothing but his happiness ? Will
he, who loves his Father in heaven, hate any of his
brethren on earth ? And will he fail to pray, who
knows that the very Spirit of God makes intercession
for him with unutterable sighs ? Yes ! Christian faith
is the victory over the world ; Christian faith contains

CHRISTIAN FAITH. 255

all the elements of a holy life. And what proves this
better than all reasonings is, the many holy lives, so
consistent and harmonious, of which Christianitv alone
supplies the model, and especially those wondrous revo-
lutions w^iich render persons truly converted new crea-
tures; which subdue to sweetness so many angry souls,
to patience, impetuous natures, to humility, haughty
spirits, to sincerity, dissembling characters, to tranquil-
lity, troubled hearts ; which, in a word, creates in man
a new soul, capable of all the virtues the very opposite
of the vices w^iich have tyrannized over his life.

The unity of life ought to correspond to the unity of
the principle, and not only so, but to its immensity.
Faith in something finite, can produce only finite re-
sults ; faith in anything imperfect or fleeting, only im-
perfect and fleeting results. But God is the principle
which includes all principles ; he is more, he is the prin-
ciple which regulates and quickens all. Everything
is false and mutilated if it relate not to God ; but all is
true, complete, united, fruitful, which has the true God
for its principle. What part of the field of morals can
remain sterile and useless under an influence from
which nothing can escape ? Over what virtue cannot
God preside ? With what duty can He dispense ? How
shall He, who is justice, goodness, and beauty supreme,
fail to attract to himself whatever is just, and good, and
beautiful ? It is on this account that the knowledge
of God, of the true God, is the only principle of a per-
fect morality ; and most insensate is he who would
ascribe to it any other.

But do not demand of Christian faith only splendid
things. It has these, it is true ; but it holds in tension
all the strings of the soul at once, and extends its influ-

256 vinet's miscellanies.

ence to all points at the same time. We have seen
Leonidas perish at Thermopylae for the salvation of
Greece. Christian faith would teach a Christian to do
as much as that ; but it would also render him capable,
every day, of a thousand little sacrifices. It would arm
his soul against all internal assaults of anger, of envy,
and of false glory. Could the faith of Leonidas do all
these thino-s ?

This infinite variety, this immensity of application of
the Christian faith, is better explained by a reference
to its dominant characteristic, which is love. Love
prescribes no limits. Were a sentiment only of legal
justice in the heart of a Christian, he would try to
measure his task, he would trace for himself precise
limits, he would know where to stop ; but obeying be-
cause he loves, loving Him whom he cannot love too
much, He abandons himself to the impulse of his heart
as the worldling abandons himself to his passion. He
never says, and he never can say, it is enough. He
would fear that he loved no longer when he could say
to his love, " Hither shalt thou come, and no farther."
Love knows neither precaution nor reserve ; it ever
desires more ; it is inflamed by its own movement ; it
grows by sacrifices themselves, expects to receive in
the measure that it gives, and is itself its own reward ;
for the true reward of love is to love yet more and
more. Where, then, in its applications, shall a faith
stop which resolves itself into love ?

It is scarcely necessary, after all this, to prove that
Christian faith is an energetic principle of action. To
ahstaiii and sustain constitute but half of the morality
founded upon love. Very far from confining itself to
a character of obedient passivity, the holy impatience

CHRISTIAN FAITH. 257

of love seeks and multiplies occasions of testifying its
ardor towards the Saviour God from whom it has ema-
nated. Faithful to the express commands of the gospel
and the example of Jesus Christ, whose holy activity
never relaxed, Christian love, each moment, creates for
itself new spheres of labor, and new domains to con-
quer. Will not even the enemies of Christianity be the
first to admit an activity which vexes and alarms them
daily? Do not those who accuse Christian faith of
fanaticism render a beautiful homage to the force of
action which dwells in it ? Christ w^ell characterized
the faith which he brought into the world, when he
said, with so much energy, — " If ye had faith as a grain
of mustard seed, ye would say to this fig tree, be thou
plucked up by the roots, and be thou cast into the midst
of the sea ; and it would do it." Such, indeed, is the
power of Christian faith, that, long before the appear-
ance of Christ, when it was nourished only in the
shadow of Him that was to come, already Christians
by anticipation, under the ancient dispensation, were
rendered capable, by their faith, of the most heroic
efforts and the most extraordinary works. Read in the
eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews, the
picture of what this faith enabled the Christians of the
ancient covenant to do ; bring together that picture and
the one presented from the days of the apostles to ours,
and you will not doubt, that if faith, in general, is an
energetic principle of action. Christian faith is the most
energetic of all.

A last characteristic of this faith is its certainty. I
do not speak of that array of external proofs which
form the imposing bulwark of the Christian revelation ;
proofs for which the sceptics of our day affect a con-

258 VINEt's iMISCELLANIES.

tempt so little philosophical, and which scarcely one in
a hundred gives himself the trouble to examine. I do
not speak of them here, for they are not equally within
the reach of all the faithful. But the Christian has a
proof better still ; he has God present in the heart ; he
feels, every moment, the influence of the Spirit of God
in his soul. He loves ; therefore he has the truth. His
proof is not of a nature to be communicated by words ;
but neither can words take it away. You cannot prove
to him that he does not love God ; and if he loves God,
wdll you dare to insist that he does not know God ? I
have already asked it once, and I ask it again : Can he
who loves God be deceived ? Is he not in possession of
the truth ? And if Christianity alone gives him power
to love God, is not Christianity exclusively the truth ?
Such is the certainty in which the faithful rejoice. I
do not add, that it is cherished and quickened by the
Holy Spirit. I only speak of obvious facts, facts re-
specting which the unbelieving as well as the believing
can satisfy themselves. And I limit myself to saying,
that the faith of the true Christian has for its peculiar
characteristic a certainty which elevates it above that
of any other belief.

Behold, ye men of the world, ye thinkers, ye great
actors in the concerns of time ! behold the faith which
I propose to j^our hearts, empty and famishing for faith,
say rather deceived by faith itself! Certainly it does
not depend upon me to make you accept it, by the por-
trait I have traced, nor upon you to become its votaries,
through this simple exposition. Arguments do not
change man; life only teaches hfe; God only reveals
God. But is what we have said without some attain-
able end and application ? No, if we have succeeded

CHRISTIAN FAITH. 259

in making you understand at least the imperfections of
your faith, and the superiority of Christian faith with
reference to Hfe and action. As to the first point, it is,
I beheve, beyond contradiction. As to the second, we
have proved, it appears to us, all that we had to prove.
We have not demonstrated that the Christian religion
is true, that the revelations upon which it rests are
authentic. Our only object was to demonstrate that,
like all other beliefs, it renders homage to a want of the
human soul, and, what no other belief has yet done, that
it has satisfied this want; that it furnishes to man
a principle of energy and action, the distinctive features
of which are not found united in any other faith ; that
it has an intensity, a generality of application, an eleva-
tion of tendency, and, in fine, a certainty which no
other possesses ; that in all these respects it presents a
type of perfection which has never been realized in any
human invention ; and that if God himself has given a
faith to the world, it is impossible he should have given
a better in any respect. After this, it would appear
quite superfluous to inquire if the Christian religion is
true. To us, this proof is sufficient ; and we earnestly
pray that it may strike others as it strikes us. May
such, by the grace of God, be the result of this address.

PRACTICAL ATHEISM.

« Without God in the world."— Eph. xi. 12.

These words were addressed by St. Paul to the re-
cently converted Christians, at Ephesus, and form a
part of the chapter, in which that great apostle reminds
them of the state of darkness, of moral depravity and
condemnation, in which they were plunged, before the
messengers of salvation had proclaimed to them Jesus
Christ. The painful truth included in this text, being
established by the infallible authority of the divine word,
and being found in accordance with the whole current
of Christian revelation, we might dispense with the task
of seeking any other proofs of it. But God has not for-
bidden us to prove and illustrate the perfect and wonder-
ful harmony of his word, with the clearest principles of
reason and nature. On this account, we invite you to
investigate with us the proofs of that proposition of
St. Paul, that the Ephesians, before knowing Jesus
Christ, were without God in the world.

Aid us by your attention. And if you involuntarily
feel some prejudices against the position we are about
to sustain, be willing to repress them for a few moments.
I am not going to prove that the Ephesians, before their
conversion, did not believe in God ; that were an un-

PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 261

tenable position. The belief in God is so inherent in
the human race, so essential to our reason, that the
most depraved persons can with difficulty free them-
selves from it. Not every one that wishes it is an
atheist; the very devils believe and tremble. How
could Paul say such a thing of the Ephesians, in
sight, as it were, of the temple of their Diana ? How
could he say so, when at Athens, beholding altars every-
where, he had reproached the inhabitants of that cele-
brated city with being, in some sort, too devout ?
What he wished to say, and what we seek to prove, is,
that in the case of an unconverted Ephesian, nay more,
of the most enlightened Ephesian, of him who in the
steps of the philosophers had risen to the idea of the
divine unity, it would have been the same thing, not to
believe in God, as to believe in him as he did.

And if this even should appear to some hard to be-
lieve, I beg them to give attention to the following
question. What is it to believe in the existence of a
being ? Is it not to believe that there is a subject, in
which certain qualities unite, that distinguish it from all
others ? Do not these qualities, or properties, make
the particular object or being what it is, and not some-
thing else ; and when we deny all these qualities, or
properties, one after another, does it not amount to
denying the object itself?

What would you say of a people, who had resolved
to give themselves a king, who had even invested a
man with that illustrious dignity, but who, from some
motive, should take from him successively, the right to
raise armies, and to make war and peace, the privilege of
nominating to offices, and the revenues necessary to
sustain his dignity, and finally those marks of respect,

262 vinet's miscellanies.

which his title appears to demand? You would say
that this people had no king. In vain would a man
exist among them whom they called king ; he is not one,
since he cannot be such, without certain qualities and
prerogatives ; which qualities and prerogatives he has
not. This is a republic, under the name of a monarchy.

What, in like manner, would you say of a man, or of
a society, who should say, we acknowledge a God, but
who should refuse to that God the attributes most
essential to his dignity, and most inseparable from
the idea of his perfection ; and reduce him, so to speak,
to nothing but a name ? Assuredly, you would say,
that such a man, and such a society, do not believe in
God, and that under the name of religion, they profess
atheism.

Very well, it will be said, the principle is incontest-
able ; but who dreams of disputing it ? Is- there in the
world any one so unreasonable as to deny the perfec-
tions of God, such as his goodness, his justice, and his
providence ? Yes, there is one in the world who de-
nies them. It is the Ephesian before his conversion.

Here we have a second step to take. We have seen
that to denv the attributes essential to the nature of
God, is to deny God ; you must also grant us now, that
to deny the acts, which are a necessary consequence
of his attributes, is to deny those attributes themselves.
In other words, it is to deny the perfections of God, to
refuse to him the exercise of these perfections. For
what is a perfection without its exercise ? What is
holiness without its application ? What is it but a
useless power ? It is a name, it is nothing.

You believe in the justice of God, St. Paul might say
to the Ephesians. You believe, then, that God sus-

PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 263

tains, defends, and vindicates a moral order, which he
has established for the benefit of his creatures, and for
his own glory. You believe that this justice, being
infinite, cannot be satisfied, but by an obedience entire
and unreserved. You believe that this justice, being
spiritual, demands the obedience not of the hands only,
but of the heart and the will. You believe that this
justice, being inviolable, can receive no stain, without
demanding a reparation, sudden, complete, absolute.
You believe all this, you say ; consequently you believe
also that your sins ought to be punished, that your
heart which is not given to God, ought to be condemned ;
that your penitence efl^aces none of your transgressions,
since what is done cannot be undone, and violated or-
der is not less violated ; that your good works can no
more do so, since the good you have done in reparation
of your sins, ought to be done just as much as if you
had no sins for which to make reparation. You be-
lieve, then, that you are condemned, necessarily con-
demned. If you do not believe it, you have a God
without justice, that is to say, you have no God.

I suppose, however, might St. Paul say, that you be-
lieve in his justice ; but do you believe in his goodness ?
You believe in it, you say. But certainly not in a
goodness limited, mingled with weakness, liable to
change. You believe that God loves his creatures with
an everlasting love ; that no tenderness in tlie world,
not even that of a mother, is comparable to his ; that it
is not only your body, but your soul, that God loves ;
and that this love is as active as it is eternal. Is it not
true that you believe all this ? Ah ! who does not be-
Heve it ; who does not need to believe it ? Is it not under
the features of love, that you are pleased to represent the

264 vinet's miscellanies

Supreme Being ? It is so. But between you and his
goodness, what frightful phantom rises, and covers, as
with boding wing, his face full of benignity ? It is the
phantom of his justice, the image of your sins. Try to
invoke, as a Father, him you have never ceased to
offend ! Try to believe in all the goodness of God, in
spite of his vengeance !* Terrible alternative, not to
be able to admit the goodness of God, without denying
his justice, nor to believe in his justice without denying
his goodness. No, not to you, is he the gracious God ;
but he shall be, if you listen to the marvellous fact we
are charged to announce to vou. A Redeemer has been
found ; the great mediation so often shadowed on earth,
in all the religions of the nations, has been realized in
heaven. God has given his Son, and his Son has given
himself, to offer to his Father the only satisfaction he
could accept, the only atonement which could be effica-
cious, the only reconciliation which " reconciles all
things." If he had not given himself, justice, which
nothing; can arrest, would have had its course. But can
you, who have not received Jesus Christ, believe in
God as a gracious God ? Can you, from the depths of
your misery and rejection, cry to him, " Our Father who
art in heaven ?" You have in the world a master, an
accuser, a judge ; have you truly a God ?

You believe in providence, might St. Paul say to the
Ephesians. Ah, blessed is he who believes in so great
a mystery ! It is a proof that he has passed from death
to life. But do you know thoroughly what it is to be-
lieve in providence ? Alas ! I doubt it ; for why, when
an event occurs which involves your welfare, do you

* Vengeance hei-e means, simply the administration of justice, particu-
larly in the infliction of punishment — T.

PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 265

immediately speak of fate or chance ? And why, when
you receive some benefit from men, does your gratitude
stop with them, instead of rising to the Eternal ? And
why, when you receive some evil from them, do you
think only of being indignant towards the mortal hand
which strikes you, and never think of adoring with awe
the divine authority, without whose permission you
could not have been struck ? And why, in view of the
revolutions of the world, do you perceive nothing but
secondary causes, w^hich indeed ought to be carefully
studied, but from which you never rise to the Great
First Cause ? Is that to believe in providence ? But
what we have just referred to, is only a part of the
sphere of the activity of Jehovah. If he controls the
world of things, he governs also, under another name,
the world of morals ; and that name is the Holy Spirit.
Do you believe in the Holy Spirit ? Do you believe
that from him proceed all good resolutions and all good
thoughts ? Do you believe that his influence is freely
given by our Heavenly Father to all those who ask it ?
It would seem to require no great effort to believe that.
No doctrine is more reasonable. We cannot, without
absurdity, deny to God, who has made our minds, the
power and influence to direct them. But if you do not
believe in the Holy Spirit, in that quickening soul of the
moral world, I ask you, what God do you possess ?

Behold, my brethren, what St. Paul might have said
to the Ephesians before their conversion. Behold, too,
what he could not say to them, after their conversion.
The Christian sees manifested, and developed, in per-
fect harmony, the justice, the goodness, and the provi-
dence of God. In Jesus Christ they are consunnnated,
realized, enthroned. In him the divine justice has been

12

266 vinet's miscellanies.

accomplished, — by him the goodness of God has been
proclaimed, — by him, in fine, the government of the
Holy Spirit and a moral providence have been placed
beyond a doubt. These truths are the whole substance
and aim of the gospel. The Christian alone knows
God ; the Christian alone has a God.

I feel as much as any one, all that is paradoxical and
harsh, which such an assertion at the first moment pre-
sents. But I ask, what is that God, who should have
no right either to our adoration, our confidence,
or our love ? And, indeed, how can we adore a God,
whose justice, pliable and soft, should accommodate
itself to the corruption of our hearts, and the perversity
of our thoughts ? How, on the other hand, love a God
whom we could not behold, but under the aspect, and
with the attributes of a severe and inexorable judge ?
How could we confide in a God who, indifferent to our
temporal interests, and to those of our souls, should ex-
ercise no supervision over our conduct and destiny ?
And, we ask once more, what is a God whom we can
neither know, adore, nor love ? In truth, my brethren,
for it serves little purpose to soften the words, the pro-
fession of the faith of the Ephesians is an involuntary
profession of atheism. St. Paul might say to him, do
not exile your God amid the splendors of a distant glory,
whence the sun of righteousness can never warm the
moral world, and shed upon it the purifying influence
of its rays ; or, if such be the God you wish, do not, I
pray you, mock yourselves so cruelly ; and at least re-
spect, by never pronouncing, a name which you can no
longer regard as holy. Or rather pronounce it unceas-
ingly, as the name of a being forever absent and lost ;
cultivate, and so to speak, enhance by your tears, that

PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 267

idea, the grandeur of which will remind you of your
destitution ; but do not abuse, do not flatter yoursveles,
by imagining you have a God, when you have nothing
more than the idea. Acknowledge to yourselves, not
that the universe has no God, a thing you have never
been able to doubt, but that you, in some sense, fallen
below the rest of created beings, are without God in the
world.

Behold, what reason, honestly interrogated, furnishes
us touching the religion of the Ephesian before his con-
version. But as his religion, such also will his Hfe be.
For it is impossible that he that is without God in the
world should live like him who has a God. And to
prove it, we do not require to develop to you his moral
conduct, and show you how far he is removed from that
holiness of which God is at once the source, the motive,
and the model. Without running over the whole circle
of his relations, it is sufficient to say what he is w^ith
relation to God ; in other words, to point out the place
which God occupies in his moral life. That place, alas !
how small it is ! The idea of God is neither the centre of
his thoughts, nor the soul of his life, but an idea acces-
sory, supernumerary, very often importunate, and asso-
ciated indifferently with his other thoughts. If God did
not exist at all, the circle of his ideas would not be less
complete, nor his reason less satisfied. When he is
occupied with the idea of God, it is as a simple view of
the intellect, not as a real fact, which determines the
aim of existence, and the value of life. He applies it
less to practical purposes, than the astronomer the fig-
ure of the earth, the course of the stars, and the measure
of the heavens. His belief in God is almost purely
negative. It permits God to exist, not being able to do

268 vinet's miscellanies.

otherwise ; but this belief neither controls his life, nor
regulates his conduct. He believes in God ; he says so
when occasion requires it ; but it does not gratify him
to speak of it to his family or his friends ; he never en-
tertains his children with it, and he makes no use of it
in their education. In a word, his thought is not full
of God, does not live upon God ; so that we might say
of him, in his first relation, that he is without God in
the w^orld.

Yet there is one voice in the universe. The heavens
declare the glory of God ; though they have no lan-
guage, properly speaking, their voice is heard, even by
the dullest ear ; and through the ear, that voice some-
times penetrates to the heart. Yes, in view of that
magnificent aspect of nature, all full of love and life, the
heart of the Ephesian is sometimes softened. I will not
ask him, why, in gazing upon these beauties, his heart
soon aches, and his bosom heaves with sighs; I will not
ask him whence comes that involuntary sadness, which
succeeds the rapture of the first view. I will not say
that what then weighs upon his thoughts is the con-
trast between nature so beautiful, and a soul degraded ;
between an order so perfect, and the disorder of his
feelings and thoughts ; between that exuberance of life,
spread through immensity, and the consciousness of a
fallen existence, which dares not reflect upon its dura-
tion. I will not ask him to observ^e that this feeling is
so appropriate to a soul like his, that he recurs to it at
each emotion of joy, as to a signal, appointed to poison
and to tarnish it. And I will not conclude, as I might
do, that all this comes from the fact that God is absent.
No, I shall only ask. What is that emotion ? What
does it prove ? Does it give you a God ? Alas, that

PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 269

confused feeling has moved the souls of millions who
have gazed upon these beauties, and have left them such
as they were. Nature, which excites alternately pleas-
ure and pain, regenerates no one. Observe the Ephe-
si an, whom it has touched. That fleeting emotion, as
soon as dissipated, restores him wholly to the world.
Even if he rendered worship to his Creator, his life is
not a worship ; it is not devoted to the Lord of heaven
and earth. His conduct obeys a thousand impulses by
turns, but he does not know the meaning of that admi-
rable precept, " Whatsoever ye do, do it for the Lord^
and not for man ; glorify God in your spirits, and in
your bodies, which are his." It is not for God that he
is a literary man, a merchant, an artisan, a man of
property, a laborer, a citizen, or the head of a family ;
it is for himself He is his own God and his own law.

Events adverse and prosperous come by turns. They
succeed each other without interruption, and always
find him without God. Happy, — he has no emotion of
gratitude to the Lord. Unhappy, — he does not receive
the occasion of it as a reproof or a counsel. Sick, — he
thinks not of the great Physician. Dying, — he has no
hope of heaven. In a word, that thought of God which
must be everything or nothing in the life, is nothing in
his ; nothing, at least, worth estimating. He yields
nothing to it, sacrifices nothing, offers nothing. And,
after all this, he will tell us that he has a God !

But we have spoken long enough of this imaginary
being, this unregenerate Ephesian. Are there, in your
opinion, no sceptics but in Ephesus ? Is there no hea-
thenism but in the heathen world ? Is the portrait we
have drawn applicable only to an extinct race ? And
is it not applicable to those thousands, alas ! to those

270 vinet's miscellanies.

millions of the heathen of Christianity, who also live
without God in the world ? Let there be no delusion
here ; this description is either false or true. False, it
applies to no one, and to the Ephesian idolater no more
than another ; true, it has its originals in all ages, in all
countries, and, without doubt, also among us.

God forbid that I should make but one class of all the
persons who do not believe the gospel. There are those
among them who are climbing towards the truth, with
a slow, but persevering pace. There is already some-
thing of Christianity in those serious and tender souls,
who are seeking, on all sides, another God than that
which the world has provided for them. For already,
without having a clear notion of the gospel, they have
received from the Holy Spirit a secret impulse, which
urges them to seek a God, invested with those attributes
which the gospel has revealed, a God of infinite justice,
a God of infinite goodness, a God of providence. Re-
ligion stretches out her hands to them, and salutes them
with a gentle name, even at the time when they would
seem to resist her ; for she discerns in them a thirst for
righteousness and peace, which she only is capable of
satisfying. And she waits for the happy moment, when,
recognizing the striking harmony between the Christian
revelations and the imperfect revelations they have re-
ceived from the voice within, these Christians by antici-
pation, these Christians by desire and want, shall become
such in fact and profession.

But this takes nothing from the truth we have estab-
lished, touching the unbeliever who is living without
God in the world. And whither would this lead us,
were we to pursue the subject ? We have spoken only
of his opinions, of his interior feelings. And his actions,

PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 271

do not they prove that his thoughts, according to the
energetic language of the prophet, are all as if there
were no God ? This I should aim to show, if the limits
of this discourse permitted it. I should discover it to
you as much in the virtuous as in the vicious unbe-
liever. I should show you in both the same forgetful-
ness of God, the same indifference to his glory, the
same idolatry of self. But a subject of such importance
requires space. It is not in a few words that we can
clear up all the difficulties with which it is connected.

But why do I occupy your attention with these
things ? Have they reference to you ? Or is this ser-
mon not made rather for a pagan than for a Christian
temple ? But is it that doubt and error never come to
sit in a Christian church ? They may enter thither to
seek for light! God bless so good an intention, for
there is piety even in that ! In such a case, it is proper
to speak of these things. But even in an audience, all
the members of which are penetrated with the truths I
have discussed, such a subject is also appropriate. The
Christian cannot but gain something by inquiring dili-
gently into the foundations and privileges of his faith.
He ought to love to review the titles of his adoption.
He ought also to learn how to exhibit them with dig-
nity, and explain them with gentleness, to those who
ask from him an account of his glorious hope. And
although the gospel can prove itself true by its own
power, and without any human aid, to a soul thirsting
for ricrhteousness, nevertheless the examination of these
proofs, so rich and so beautiful, is a natural means
which God often uses to produce or confirm faith.
May such, in some degree, be the effect of this dis-
course. May you return to your houses, more con-

272 vinet's miscellanies.

vinced and affected with the wonderful attractions of
the gospel. May you exclaim with the sacred poet,
" O God, I rejoice in thy word as one that hath found
great spoil. It shall be a lamp to my feet, and a light
to my path. Thou hast made me to know the way of
life. I shall ever be with thee ; thou hast held me by
thy right hand. Thou wilt guide me by thy counsel,
and afterward receive me to glory !"

We add to this discourse the following from the
" Discours Nouveaux," to show that the rejection of
Jesus Christ amounts to practical atheism.

And who is he whom God hath sent ? What is it to
believe on him ? And what connection is there be-
tween that belief and the love of God ? What connec-
tion ? It probably escapes, in the first instance, the
greater part of the hearers of Jesus Christ, but it will
not escape them always, and certainly it cannot escape
us. He whom God hath sent is his well-beloved, his
Son, his Other Self; it is himself in a person like unto
us ; a man, perfectly man, a God, perfectly God. To
believe on him, is not simply to believe what we have
just said, but to believe that he hath been sent to us,
given to us ; it is to believe that the supreme object of
the Father's love, he whose very name of Son worthily
characterizes his nature, the perfection of glory, embra-
cing in a boundless love the whole human race, has
clothed himself with our mortal flesh, in order to be our
Redeemer from death, our Representative, our Surety
and Intercessor. Take away, by a mournful supposi-
tion, take away Jesus Christ from the world, with his
might of compassion, and his title of Saviour, and by

PRACTICAL ATHELSiM. 273

consequence, replace humanity where Jesus Christ found
it, before an unknown God, the God of Sinai, enveloped
in thick clouds, penetrated here and there, only by
threatening flashes of lightning; or before the God of
the philosophers, — power without personality, essence
without feeling, gulf of existence, terror of the imagina-
tion and the heart ; or, finally, before two closed gates,
one of which is the gate of perdition, the other that of
annihilation.* Yes, replace humanity where Jesus

* It may be tliouglit singular that the God of the philosophers should
generally be an impersonal God, a God either so spiritual, or so material,
that he cannot be separated, even in idea, from the universe he has
made ; a God so infinite, and so creative, that without volition or deter-
mination of the will, he must ever produce whatever exists in what we
call the creation, throwing off continually, as from an exhaustless centre,
all beings, and all modes of being ; a God so perfect and absolute, that
he has, properly speaking, neither mind nor body, but is all mind and
all body, and not only so, but blends and absorbs all finite existences,
material and immaterial, in his own boundless essence. According to
this view, men and angels, with all material things, are but the necessary
and outward manifestation of God, a part therefore of God, shadowy and
imperfect, and destined, in due time, to return imto God. So that He
only exists as the infinite and eternal Me, " power without personahty,
essence without feeling, gulf of existence {goiiffre des existences), terror
of the imagination and the heart."

It may be deemed singular, we say, that philosophers have generally
formed this conception of God, which, by the way, is the idea of the
more dreamy and speculative systems of pagan idolatry, and easily har-
monizes with the grossest superstition on the one hand, and the deepest
sensuahsm on the other. But when we look into the matter more nar-
rowly, it will not appear so strange as at the first view. For those who
reject revelation, necessarily reject the idea of an absolute creation, and
a superintenchng Providence, truths which lie at the basis of all correct
theology ; and hence, they plunge at once into that ocean of difiiculties,
where all the speculations of ancient heathen pliilosophy were engulfed
and lost. Assuming the axiom, ex niliih, nihil Jit, " from notliing, no-
thing is made," which is true m one sense, though not in another, true
perhaps in an absolute, but not in a relative sense, that is to say, true

12*

274 vinet's miscellanies.

Christ found it, and say to that humanity, Love God,
if there be a God, love him if he be just, love him if he

■when applied generally, but not true in reference to God, and the possi-
bility of liis creating separate substances or essences, whether minds or
bodies, in a way not explained, or perhaps capable of being exjjlained
to us ; assuming this, the philosophers referred to make creation a neces-
sary, and not a voluntary act of God, and represent matter as a mere
modification of himself. Here then the distinction between God and
his creation, between spu-it and matter, vanishes, leaving but one sub-
stance, one essence or being, in existence, which may be called God, Na-
ture, or the Universe, as individuals may please. Dr. Norton, in his
Essay on the Latest Form of Infidelity, states, apparently on good au-
thority, " that the celebrated Pantheist, Spinoza, composed the work in
which his opinions are most fully unfolded, in the Dutch language, and
committed it to his friend, the pliysician Mayer, to translate into Latin ;
that where the name God now appears, Spinoza had written Nature ;
but that Mayer induced him to substitute the former word for the latter,
in order partially to screen himself from the odium to which he might
be exposed."

Spinoza, as all will admit, is the father of modern Pantheism, the high-
priest in reality of transcendental and mystical Atheism. He is much
admired by the Hegelians, and even by the Eclectics, of whom Cousin is
the most distinguished representative ; and his works have recently been
republished, and extensively circulated in Germany and France. In his
Posthumous Ethics, he sets out with the proposition that " there cannot
be two substances or essences" — that " substance is self-existent and in-
finite," and consequently, that there is " but one substance," which he
calls God. " By God," says he, " I imderstand a being absolutely in-
finite, that is, a substance consisting of infinite attributes, every one of
which expresses an infinite essence." (See Posthvunous Ethics, Schoh
in Prop. 8. Schol. in Prop. 10.) On this ground, God cannot, in the
proper sense of the term, create ; " for one substance cannot be pro-
duced by another substance." Hence, also, Spinoza denies all miracles,
taking the very ground of Hume, that they are impossible ; and so they
are, if there be no independent and all-controlling God. " I will show
from Scripture," he says, impiously referring to the word of God for au-
thority, just as Satan did in a similar instance, " that the decrees and
commands of God, and consequently his providence, are nothing but the
order of nature." (Tractatus Theologico Politicus, Cap. VI., — as quoted
by Dr. Norton in his Latest Form, of Infidelity) Views similar to these

PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 275

loves you ! From the depths of those palpitating hearts,
you will hear uttered a thousand anxious cries, cries
incessantly checked. Yes, God loves us ; but what if
he should not love me ! Yes, God is just, but if he is
just, he is formidable, and how can I love him ; and if
not just, he is not to be revered, and how can I love
him ? God exists, that is clearer than the light of the
sun ; God is good, since he is God ; but if he is God, he
is holy, — what can I thence conclude, what can I hope ?
What does he will ? What has he resolved ? Can I
love him simply because he is worthy of love ? Can I
love him if he does not love me ? Can I love one who
perhaps hates me. Can I love in such uncertainty ?
And must not God first set my heart at liberty in order
that I may run in the w^ay of his commandments ?
I represent thoughtful and not frivolous men speaking

are taken by some of our New England Transcendentalists ; so that
R. W. Emerson and Tlieodore Parker deny all inspiration and miracles,
and though the latter continues to preach, and even to pray, the former
has wisely abandoned botli, as unphilosophical and useless.

This, then, is the God of the philosophers ; a God without volition,
without affection, without righteousness, without even personahty, — a
mere idea, a transcendental and pantheistic fancy ; and not " the Lord
our God," who is " above all, through all, and in all," the Father and
Saviour of the human family. Oh, it is fearful to think, that it is an
all-controlling and omnipotent God that the pliilosophers reject. " "We
are free," says one of them, (Heine in the Kirche-Zeitung, Feb., 1839,
quoted in the Biblical Repertory,) " and need no thundering tyrant. "We
are of age, and need no fatherly care. We are not the handiwork of any
great mechanic. Tlieism is a rehgion for slaves, for cliildi'en, for Gene-
vese, for watch-makers."

Do we start back with liorror from the God of tlie philosophers ?
What then ? Are we infidels still ? Or do we accept the God of reve-
lation ? But he is just, — he punishes sin, — he has concluded all in unbe-
lief. He demands the heart, tlie life, the all ; and how can we give it,
unless we are forgiven, reconciled, and born again ? — T.

276 vinet's miscellanies.

thus ; the latter perhaps imagine they love God, for the
very reason, perhaps quite obvious in their view, that
God is worthy of love because he is God. But mankind
generally are not frivolous, they are serious, and have
proved it. Their religions, opposed to the principle we
have recognized, do not bind man to God ; they do not
breathe the spirit of love, they do not inspire it nor
propagate it ; they rather propagate dread of the name
of God, and clearly testify what, in our present condition
of uncertainty and perplexity, is our natural instinct
and inevitable tendency. Enough exists to impel these
presumptuous men, at least to doubt, whether it is natu-
ral to love God. But let them retire within themselves,
and interrogate their own thoughts. They speak of
loving God ; but do they know well what it is to love
God ? Do they reflect that God requires that he should
be loved as God ? There are terrors, there are abysses
in that single word ; a world intervenes between their
thoughts and the truth. That pagan philosopher was
more serious than they, and knew better the real con-
dition of humanity, who, either with indifference or grief,
I know not which, exclaimed, " It is impossible to love
God !"

But is the world, let them proceed to say, is the world
so worthy of love, that it ought rather than God to pos-
sess our heart ? Is the world more attractive than
God?

If such were the question here, the intellect has
already decided it ; but the will does not immediately
follow. The intellect is prompt, very prompt ; it seizes,
at a single glance, eternal verities ; but the flesh is slow,
and lingers behind. In our present condition, we do
not need to be told, detach yourselves from the world,

PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 277

to be able to love God ; but, cleave to God, to be able
to detach yourselves from the world. The attraction
of the world is always experienced ; we feel it without
an effort of the will ; it is in resisting it that we must
use our will. But the attraction of God, in our actual
situation, is felt only by our intellect, and penetrates no
further. We must first of all love God, which depends
not on our will, because we cannot love an object in
which we do not find our happiness. God must first
reveal himself to us as the supreme happiness, and not
merely as the supreme perfection and the sovereign
law. Even then a great number, perhaps, will not love
him ; but certain it is, that before knowing him in this
character, none will love him ; and if any one among
men is capable of loving, he will love him thenceforth
or never. He certainly will love him who, haunted by
the recollection of his transgressions, overwhelmed by
the pressure of the law, consumed with sorrow for his
lost inheritance, hungering and thirsting for righteous-
ness, that is, for God himself, when he sees him re-
vealed with all the characteristics of certainty, as a God
merciful and gracious, a father, and not a judge, nay,
more than a father, as a compassionate, devoted arid
tender brother !

Either the human heart is incapable, from its nature,
of feeling love, or that man will feel it who, enveloped
in ignominy as a garment, has seen the God of glory
descending even to him, to seek him in the depths
of his disgrace ; who, from the gloom and sorrow
in which his conscience kept him plunged, has seen
himself transported into a region of light and hap-
piness ; who, in respect to himself, has seen verified
that amazing language of the prophet, " In all their

278 vinet's x\iiscellanies.

afflictions he was afflicted ;" who has seen, — O mys-
tery, O miracle ! — his God travelhng by his side, in
the rugged path of hfe ; nay, voluntarily assuming the
burden which was crushing him ; a God humbled, a
God weeping, a God anguished, a God dying !* That
long contest, if I may dare to say it, that agony of God
for generations, that painful birth, by which humanity
was brought forth to the life of heaven, has been re-
vealed to him in the ancient dispensation ; he has been
shown the very steps of God impressed upon the dust
of ages, and mingled with the footprints of the human
race ; but at the trace which that God has left on the
rock of Calvary, the rock of his heart is broken, the veil
of his understanding torn away ; and what he could
never think of without temerity, he thenceforth con-
ceives as necessary, that if God has thus loved human-
ity, he ought to love it as God has done, that is to say,
with the same spirit, and in the same manner. What,

* The translator must here take the liberty of repeating what has
been already said in a former note, to which he would refer his readers,
and remind them that where our autlior refers to God, as " weeping,
anguished and dying," he refers to " God manifest in the flesh," in other
words, to Jesus Christ, as human and divine. It is expressly said by
the prophet, with regard to the infinite Jehovah hunself, that " in all
their afflictions he was afflicted ;" and it may not be as unphilosophical
as some persons imagine^ to represent the Divine Mind as sympatliiziug
in the profoundest manner, with the struggles and sufferings of Imman-
ity. There is deeper meaning than rationalists wot of in the words of
the apostle, " For scarcely for a righteous man will one die ; peradveu-
ture for a good man some would even dare to die. But God com-
mendeth Ais love towards us, in that while we were yet sinners Christ
died for us." We are said to die, when body and spirit separate ; but
the spirit does not perish. It sympatliizes in the agony of dissolution,
but it lives on, as perfect as ever. So the Divinity in Jesus Christ may
have sympathized, in a manner inexphcable to us, with the anguish of
his death, and yet lived on, in immutable perfection and blessednees.

PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 279

then, will he do ? None will ever love God, or that
man will love him ; that man will never love God, or
he will love him from this hour. Who can conceive
of any means of producing love superior to this ? What
could God, yes God himself, do moi'e ? What could
he give, after having given himself? That man, then,
has only to believe in order to love ; and because he
loves, the works he will thenceforth perform shall be
works of God.

GRACE AND LAW.

" By grace ye are saved." — Eph. ii. 5.

In no language is there a more attractive word than
grace ; in the gospel, there is none more offensive to
the men of the world. The idea of being saved by
grace offends their pride, shocks their reason. And
they prefer, a thousand times, to the word grace, so
sweet and touching, that of law, so formidable and se-
vere. They desire us to speak to them of the precepts
of the gospel, of the morality of the gospel ; but they
are not pleased when we call their attention to the gra-
tuitous pardon it announces. We shall not, at present,
explain the causes of this predilection and of this re-
pugnance, which appear to contradict the deepest ten-
dencies of human nature. But we shall endeavor to
show that, so far from these two things, grace and law,
being irreconcilable, the one conducts necessarily to
the other ; that the law conducts to grace, and grace,
in its turn, leads back to the law.

After we have deduced this truth from the very na-
ture of things, we shall appeal to experience, and enable
you to see that whosoever truly admits the one never
fails to admit also the other. Thus, if it should please
God to aid us, one of the principal objections which the
world raises against the gospel will be removed.

GRACE AND LAW. 281

I say, then, that the law conducts naturally to grace.
To convince you of this, will you consider the law with
reference to four things, or four points of view which
it offers to our contemplation — its nature, its extent, its
authoritative character, and finally, its sanction or
guaranty.

If you consider the nature of this law, you will see
that the question has little to do with ceremonies, cus-
toms, and external performances. Upon this point
there is no difference of opinion. If these things were
commanded by Heaven, they would doubtless form a
part of our duties. But the law, such as Christians and
even pagans conceive of it, is the moral law, the law
which subjects the life to the conscience. And this
law commands us, not merely to act justly, but to be
just ; not only to do right, but to feel right ; that is to
say, it demands our heart.

As to the extent of this law, a word will suffice ; it
is the law of perfection. He who understands it, re-
sembles that hero so frequently celebrated in history,
who believed that he had done nothing, so long as any-
thing; remained for him to do. No relation of his life,
no moment of his career, no part of his duty, can be
withdrawn from this universal empire of the moral law.
To obey in everything, to obey always, to obey per-
fectly, such is the unchangeable rule of his conduct.*

* That this is a just view is evident from the fact that perfection,
■\vhich is the absence of all sin, and the possession of all virtue, is abso-
lutely necessary to our happiness. God cannot require less of his crea-
tuies than what will secure their permanent well-being. The spirits of
just men made perfect, and the angels of God, are happy because they are
holy. They " obey in everything, obey always, obey perfectly." Hence
we are enjoined to pray, " Thy will be done on earth as it is ii\ heaven."
Our heavenly Father, then, has given us a perfect law, in order that he

282 vinet's miscellanies.

In the third place, this is not a mere choice, a plan,
or a calculation, on his part ; he is bound to the law by
the chains of an imperious and absolute obligation. In
his eyes, the only thing necessary is to obey. Happi-
ness, power, life, are not the end, but the means of ful-
filling the moral law. The question with him is not
about enjoyment, or power, or life, but about obedience.
The laws of nature may change, those of duty remain.
The universe may dissolve, the moral law continues.
In the confusion of all things, and amid universal dis-
order, the will to do right does not cease to belong to
him ; and his activity would fail of its objects, and his
efforts of their end, if he did not forever feel under
obligation to be righteous.

That he may never forget it, a sanction is attached
to the law. Happiness has been invariably attached
to obedience, misery to disobedience. On earth, dis-
gust, remorse, and terror, indicate to rebellious man the
most terrible punishments concealed in the shadows of
the future. " The wrath of God is revealed from
heaven against every soul of man that doeth evil."

Try to deduct anything from this formidable enumera-
tion ; try, and you will see, with each attempt, the bur-
den aggravated by new weights. Say that obedience

may secure for us a perfect felicity. He has forbidden all wrong, he
enjoins all virtue ; for all wrong is injurious, all virtue is beneficial
One sin, sanctioned or permitted, one virtue, neglected or not com-
manded, would tarnish our felicity, and introduce disorder into the
chvine administration. The law, then, is the law of perfection. It has
no limits but those of possibility. It forbids all sin, it enjoins all j^urity,
in thought, word, and deed. Like its author, it is " holy, just, and good,"
and therefore immutable and eternal. If, then, it bears severely upon
us, if it condemns us utterly and irrevocably, this only proves that we
need pardon and regeneration. — T.

GRACE AND LAW. 283

has its limits, and we shall ask you to point them out.
Say that a compromise may be made between heaven
and earth, and we shall demand, by virtue of what
authority you dare to make such a compromise. Say
that each man has his standard, and we shall inquire of
each one of you, if he has reached that standard. Say
that God has no need of your sacrifices, we shall wish
to know if the commandments of God are regulated by
his needs ; and we shall compel you to acknowledge,
that on such a supposition, God would not command
anything, since assuredly God has no need of anything.
Say that many of the duties imposed upon you are
doubtful ; but whence come the greater part of these
doubts, if not from your reluctance to obey ? More-
over, do you fulfil those duties of which you do not
doubt ? Say that obedience is impossible ; but show us
how, while you find it impossible, it yet appears to you
highly reasonable ; show us why your conscience per-
sists in declaring authoritative a law which your ex-
perience declares impracticable ; show us why, after
each transgression, you have in vain said, I could not
have done otherwise ; and why remorse does not cry
the less vehemently in your soul. Remove this contra-
diction, if you can ; as for us, we cannot remove it.

To present to God our bodies and spirits a living and
holy sacrifice ; to devote to him our whole life ; to seek
nothing but his approbation ; " to love our neighbor
as ourselves ; to use the world as not abusing it ;" — such
is a feeble sketch, a rapid outline of the divine law.
Let others seek to eflface, to obliterate the distinctive
features ; we shall deepen the impression. Let them
seek to lighten the burden, we shall press it with all our
might. We shall, if possible, overwhelm with it the

284 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

presumptuous creature who seeks to shake it off, in order
that, under the oppressive weight of this terrible and
inexorable law% he may utter that desirable and salutary
cry which implores grace, and to which the gospel alone
has responded.

If, then, you have formed a just idea of the moral
law, if you have accepted it, not enfeebled and mutila-
ted, but in all its strictness and majesty, you will ac-
knowledge yourselves violators of that divine law.
You will feel yourselves capable neither of fulfilling all
its precepts together, nor even one of them in a manner
full and perfect ; and in the profound conviction of
your misery and danger, you will either abandon your-
selves to an inconsolable despair, or you will cast your-
selves at the foot of the eternal throne, and beg grace
and pardon from the Judge of your life.

It is thus the law leads to grace. But observe par-
ticularly that I have not said that the law explains grace.
The work of redemption is a mystery, and will ahvays
remain a m3'stery ; the gospel itself only announces it,
does not explain it. All I meant to say is, that to him
who contemplates the holy image of the law, there is
an imperious necessity to rely on grace or perish in his
sins.

It is at this point that St. Paul has again exclaimed,
" Do we make void the law, through faith ? God for-
bid ! yea, we establish law." This is the second truth
we have announced ; grace, in its turn, leads back to
the law.

In the first place, you will consider that grace, as it
is manifested in the gospel, is the most august homage,
the most solemn consecration, which the law can re-
ceive. This grace is of a peculiar character. It is not

GRACE AND LAW. ,285

the soft indulgence, and the easy indifference of a fee-
ble father, who, tired of his own severity, shuts his eyes
to the faults of a guilty child. It is not the weakness of
a timid government, which, unable to repress disorder,
lets the laws sleep, and goes to sleep along with them.
It is a holy goodness ; it is a love without feebleness,
which pardons guilt, and executes justice, at the same
time. It is not possible, that God, who is the supreme
sanction of order, should tolerate the shadow of disorder,
and leave ^npunished the least infraction of the holy
laws he has given. Thus, in the work of which we
speak, condemnation appears in the pardon, and pardon
in the condemnation. The same act proclaims the
compassion of God, and the inflexibility of his justice.

God could not save us without assuming our nature,
nor assume our nature without sharing our misery.
The cross, the triumph of grace, is the triumph of law.
Penetrate this great mystery, and you will acknowledge
that nothing is more beyond reason, and yet nothing
more conformed to it. Among all the inventions of
men, you will seek in vain for another idea, which ex-
hibits in harmony all the attributes which compose the
perfection of God.*

* To every misophisticated reader of the Scriptm-es, nothing can be
more evident, than the sacrificial, or substitutionary character of our
Saviour's sufferings. That Christ -was sinless, all will admit ; that he
was treated as if he were a sinner ; that he was thus treated by the ap-
pointment of God, as well as his own voluntary choice, and that his suf-
ferings were a part of a great scheme, devised by infinite wisdom, for
the redemption of man, will also be acknowledged. Moreover, that he
suffered for us, suffered what we ought to have suffered a thousand
times over, but which wc could not have suffered, without utter perdi-
tion, and that God accepts his sufferings, not as a full or commercial
equivalent for oui- punishment, but as an expiation, or atonement for

286 vinet's miscellanies.

Thus, then, in the idea of evangehcal grace, the
moral law is found highly glorified. Why should it
not be found equally glorified, in the hearts of those
who receive grace? How can we believe seriously in
that bloody expiation, without perceiving all that is

our sins, on the ground of wluch, our faith m Clu-ist is accounted for
righteousness, and procures for us pardon and eternal Hfe, will scarcely
be denied by any serious and cancUd believer in divine revelation
*' He who knew no sm was made sin for us, that we might be made the
righteousness of God in liim." Here then is the sinless suffering for the
sinful, the innocent dying for the guilty ; and if this be not sacrifice, ex-
piation, substitution, we know not what is. The case indeed is pecuhar.
There is nothing like it, there can be nothing hke it, in the transactions
of men. But the infinite Jehovah, the supreme sovereign of the uni-
verse, the source and embodiment of all law, as well as of all grace, may
accept such a sacrifice, in place of the direct execution of his laws, and
present it to the world, as his selected plan for the salvation of the
guilty. Thus is he "just," and yet "tlie justifier of him that beUeveth
in Jesus." The fitness and efficiency of such an appointment are shown
in its effects. A priori it might seem foolishness, but experience has
proved it to be the power of God, and the wisdom of God, not only for
the rehef, but for the reformation of them that believe. Our author,
then, is justified in speaking of the cross of Christ as an exhibition of
justice and of grace. Wliile it relieves the conscience of the sinner from
the burden of guilt, and inspires him with an immortal hope, it strikes a
death-blow at his sin, and penetrates his heart with gratitude and love.
" A cold and sceptical philosophy," says Robert Hall, Works, Vol I., p.
2'7'7, "may suggest specious cavils against the doctrines of revelation upon
this subject ; cavils which derive all their force, not from the superior
wisdom of their authors, but solely from the inadequacy of human rea-
son to the full comprehension of heavenly mysteries. But still there is
a simple grandeur in the fact, that God has set forth his So?i to be a pro-
pitiation, sufficient to silence the impotent clamors of sophistry, and to
carry to all serious and humble men a firm conviction, that the law is
exalted, and the justice of God illustriously vindicated and asserted by
such an expedient. To minds of that description, the immaculate purity
of the divine character, its abhorrence of sin, and its inflexible adherence
to moral order, will present themselves in the cross, in a more impres-
sive light than in any other object." — T

GRACE AND LAW. 287

odious in sin, vowing towards it a profound hatred, and
desiring, if I may so express it, to do honor to that in-
effable and unmerited grace ? What ! has Christ died
for our sins, and can we love our sins ? What ! has
Christ died because there is a law, and shall we not feel
ourselves bound to redouble, and constantly to renew,
our respect for the law ? Human nature must have
lost all its essential traits, all the fibres of the heart
must have been broken, when the conviction of so great
a benefit has failed to excite all our love ; and it would
be a strange love, which did not produce obedience.
He who says in his heart, " Let us sin, that grace may
abound," must be a man who has neither understood
nor received grace ; for the natural and reasonable con-
clusion is this, since grace abounds, let us sin no more !
Thus, as I said at the commencement of these remarks,
grace leads back to the law.

I say more than this ; I say that it alone leads thither.
Of this you wdll have no doubt, if you consider atten-
tively what the law is. The law is not perfectly ful-
filled, except by love. But love is not commanded, it
is inspired. The severest injunctions, and the most
formidable threatenings, could not create in the soul a
single emotion of tenderness to God ; love alone gives
birth to love. Thus, as long as we have before us only
the law with its threatenings, we do not fulfil it in the
spirit by which it ought to be fulfilled, that is, we do
not fulfil it at all. The gospel has said that, " love cast-
eth out fear ;" it is also just to say, that fear casteth out
love ; for we cannot love when we fear. It is the
privilege and glory of the gospel, to give to the soul en-
largement and freedom ; grace being proclaimed, and
fear banished, we dare love, we can love. " 1 will run

288 vinet's miscellanies.

in the way of thy commandments," says the Psahnist,
" when thou shalt enlarge my heart." The heart opens
and expands, under the gentle w^armth of divine love
and the sweet rays of hope. Obedience becomes joy-
ous ; it is no longer a painful effort, but a spontaneous
and involuntary soaring of the renovated soul. As the
waves of a river, once impelled in the direction of
their channel, do not require every moment a new im-
pulse, to continue therein, so the life, which has received
the impulse of love, is borne away entire, and with rapid
waves, towards the ocean of the divine will, where it
loves to be swallowed up and lost. Thus perfect obe-
dience is the fruit only of love, and love is the fruit only
of grace.

This idea receives additional force, from a more
complete view of grace. Grace is something more
than pardon ; pardon is only the inauguration of grace.
God exercises grace towards us, when he forgives our
sins ; and he exercises it again, when he acts upon
our hearts, to incline, and form them to obedience ; or,
if you prefer it so, when he cherishes and perpetuates
the first impressions we have received from his mercy ;
when he incessantly awakens in us the recollection,
the idea, the feeling of these impressions ; when he pre-
vents the dust and gravel from obstructing the blessed
fountain he has caused to spring from the rock, cleft
asunder by his divine hand. All this he has promised ;
all this he has pledged to us ; all this, then, is grace.
But what effect will such promises, such assurance have
upon the heart, but to soften and encourage it ? What
disposition will he be likely to cherish towards God,
who knows not only that God has loved him once, but
that he loves him always, that he thinks of him, pro-

GRACE AND LAW. 289

vides for him, watches over him continually, conducts
him gently and carefully, as a shepherd conducts one
of his flock, from the mountain to the plain, bears him
in his arms, and caresses him, as a nurse bears and
caresses a child ; in a word, to borrow the language of
Scripture, " is afflicted in all his afflictions ?" * This,
we repeat, is grace ! Is it, or is it not, favorable to the
law ? In other words, is it adapted to develop, or is it
only fitted to stifle in us, the principle of love ?

Who, having considered the nature of the law and
of grace, can now say, that law and grace are incom-
patible ? The matter is beyond dispute. But we have
a corroboration of this truth in experience. It fufly
confirms what reason has already proved.

In the first place, we affirm that those who admit
grace, admit also the law. Here, it is quite evident,
we do not speak of that dry dogmatism, that dead or-
thodoxy, which is no more Christianity, than a statue
is a man. We srant that there is a wav of receivinsc
the doctrines of the church, which leaves them without
influence upon the life. But we speak only of those
whose Christianity is vital, of those who have accepted
grace with the same feeling that a shipwrecked mariner
seizes the saving plank, which is to sustain him above
the waves and carry him to the shore. Well, have you
remarked, that those Christians by conviction and feel-
ing, who confess that they are saved only by grace,
have less respect than others for the law ? On the con-
trary, have you not observed that what distinguishes
them, is precisely their attachment and zeal for the
law ? And yet, strange to tell ! some have succeeded,
by means of certain sophisms, in spreading the idea that

* Isaiah Ixiii. 14, Ixvi. 12, Ixiii. 0.
10

290 vinet's miscellanies.

the doctrine of such Christians is subversive of moral-
ity, that their faith is a pillow of security, that it extin-
guishes the necessity for good works, and opens the
door to every vice. But their conduct has refuted all
these sophisms. The flesh might say, let us sin, for
grace abounds ; but the spirit teaches them a very dif-
ferent logic. It is true, they expect everything from
grace, but they labor as if they expected everything
from themselves. In the world we are surprised to see
men, who long since have made their fortune, rising
early and retiring late, and eating the bread of careful-
ness, as if they had yet their fortune to make. Well,
then, those of whom we are speaking have also made
their fortune, — they are saved, — they say so ; but every-
thing which a man would do, who thus far had not the
least assurance of his salvation, they do assiduously
and without ceasing. And they not only labor, but
they pray ; they suppHcate the Spirit to sustain them
in their feebleness ; with fervor they exclaim, " Oh,
who shall deliver us from this body of death ?" With
the great apostle they repeat, " As for me, I have not
yet reached the goal ; but this I do, leaving the things
that are behind, and pressing to those that are before, I
advance to the goal, to the prize of the heavenly calling
of God in Christ Jesus." In a word, the conduct of
these disciples of Christ is such, that it would be diffi-
cult to find among the partisans of the law a single
individual as careful to bridle his tongue, to repress the
risings of passion, to observe every iota of the law, and
to fill up his life with good works. And yet they at-
tach to none of their works the hope of their salvation.
What proof can be stronger that grace and law are by
no means contradictory !

GRACE AND LAW. 291

If it is true, that those who admit grace, admit also the
law, it is, unhappily, no less true, that those who do not
admit grace, do not admit the law. This assertion will
not surprise us, if we recollect what the law is, and what
it is to admit it. Who, in the elevated and spiritual
sense we have given to these expressions, admit the
law, who wish to do so, completely ? Not those cer-
tainly who reject grace. Everywhere among the chil-
dren of the world, the law of God is taken at a discount.
Each accepts of it whatever he finds proportioned to
his powers, and convenient to his circumstances ; each
makes a law according to his own standard. Morality
changes its form and dimensions with each individual.
And, what is especially worthy of notice, in this con-
nection, is that they make only those sacrifices to the
law which cost them nothing, those indeed which are
no sacrifices at all. But each appears to demand favor
for every cherished inclination, for every reserved vice,
for every idol he has not the courage to break ; the ava-
ricious man for the mania of gain and accumulation,
the sensual for the indulgences he cannot renounce, tlie
vain for the distinctions by which he is flattered. In a
word, behind conscience, and amid the deep shadows
of the soul, each cherishes, perhaps unknown to him-
self, some idolatrous altar. It is this which explains
the strange preference which worldlings give to the law
over grace. Never would they prefer the law, if they
saw it entire ; and they prefer it only because the deli-
cate point, the wounding point, if I may so express my-
self, remains hidden from them, and only its flattering
aspects, its smooth sides, its easy duties are familiar to
their minds. But with whom do you find this disposi-
tion to attenuate the law, or rather this incapacity to

292 vinet's miscellanies.

admit it ? With the partisans of grace, or with those
who reject grace ? With the disciples of the world, or
with the children of the gospel ?

But are there not, you will say to me, even among
those who do not admit salvation by grace, men pene-
trated with the holiness of the law, and desirous of ful-
filling it ? Ah ! my friends, you speak of a class of men
very remarkable, and very interesting. There are men,
I am far from denying, to whom God appears to mani-
fest himself as he did to Moses on Sinai, with all the
majesty of a lawgiver and a judge. By a celestial
favor, which may be called a commencement of grace,
they have felt the grandeur, necessity, and inflexibility
of the moral law, and at the same time, have believed
themselves capable of realizing it in their lives. Full
of this idea they have set themselves to work ; now
retrenching, now adding, now correcting ; — ever occu-
pied with the desire of perfection, they have subjected
their souls and bodies to the severest discipline. But
when they have seen that the task had no end, the pro-
cess no result ; when one vice extirpated has only
enabled them to discover another ; when after all these
corrections in detail, the sum of the life and the foun-
dation of the soul were not essentially changed ; that
•the old man was still there, in his ill-disguised decrepi-
tude, that the disease of which they had to relieve
themselves, was not a disease, but death itself; that the
great thing at issue, was not how to be cured, but how
to live ; when, in a word, they have seen that their
labor did not bring peace, and at the same time, have
felt their craving for peace increasing with the efforts
they made to satisfy it, — then was verified in them what
Jesus Christ has said, " Whosoever will do the will of

GRACE AND LAW. 293

my Father, shall know whether my doctrine come from
God, or from man." Yes, that doctrine which is noth-
ing else than grace, they have acknowledged as one
which proceeds from the good and holy God ; as the
only key to the enigma which torments them. They
have embraced it with affection ; they have sold all to
pmxhase "that pearl of great price ;" and have thereby
once more proved what we seek to establish, that " the
law is a schoolmaster, leading to Christ ;" and that by
the road of the law, we arrive at grace. A great num-
ber of conversions which rejoice the church have no
other history.

Thus, if there are among us those who have not yet
resolved to accept salvation from God, as a gratuitous
gift, as the price of the sufferings of Jesus Christ, I will
state the reason of it without circumlocution. It is
because they do not yet know the law. They may
speak, if they will, of righteousness, of perfection, and
even of love ; there are many things of a terrestrial
nature to which they might apply each of these words ;
it is long since human language has rashly usurped the
words of the lano;uao;e of Heaven. But how far is that
which they call righteousness, perfection, and love, from
what our Lord has denominated such! Ah! if they
had but the faintest idea, and the feeblest desire of per-
fection ; if the august image of regeneration, of the life
in God, did but once shine upon their minds, what a
revolution would be made in their ideas ! how life
would change its aspect in their eyes ! how their views
of happiness and of misery would be suddenly displaced!
How little would everything be to them, in comparison
with that peace of God to which they did not expect to
come, but by way of the law ! When, after having

294 vinet's miscellanies.

panted, foF a long time, under the iron yoke of the law,
and traced, in the field of duty, so many barren furrows,
they should see shining upon them, at last, the divine
promise, when the Desire of nations, the Desire of their
hearts, should present himself before their eyes, with the
touching dignity of Mediator ; when he should teach
them to breathe the gentle name of Father, which their
lips could never before utter ; when they should see the
links of an inefiable communion, formed between their
unhappy souls, and the eternal Spirit, O then would they
love, would they comprehend, would they accept that
grace which to-day is to them only an object of scandal
and derision ! Open their eyes, O Lord, to the majestic
splendors of thy holy law, to the sweet and tender light
of thy compassion ! Penetrate them with a reverence
for thy commands, and then with love for thy love.
Lead them by the road of the law, to the secure port,
the eternal asylum of thy grace in Jesus Christ !

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD.

" All have sinned and come short of the glory of God."*— Rom. ill. 23

FIRST DISCOURSE

The two truths, to which we invite your attention
to-day, have not met the same fate in the world. The
first is not disputed ; there is no one who does not
acknowledge that " all men have sinned ;" but there are
few persons disposed to admit that " man is deprived of
all glory before God."

There is such an agreement as to the first of these
propositions, that it would not be necessary to dwell
upon it, if those who are unanimous in receiving it, did
not strangely differ from one another, and sometimes
even from themselves, touching the extent and meaning
of this declaration. Some of them regard sin as essen-
tially a negative thing ; that is, as an absence, a want, a
defect ; in their belief, no element of positive evil re-
sides in the heart of man. Others, on the contrary, be-
lieve that sin consists in a direct preference of evil to
good ; that vice in man is not a weakness, but a de-
praved force ; that the will is not seduced, but corrupted.
You hear some explain sin as an accident of human

* French translation—" Deprived of all glory before God."

296 vinet's miscellanies.

nature ; the result of the action of external circum-
stances upon the soul. Evil, according to them, does
not proceed from the soul, but comes to it ; the soul re-
ceives it, does not produce it. Again, you hear others
maintain that the germ of sin is in the heart : that it
seeks occasion to manifest itself; that everything may
become an occasion to it, and that man is not a sinner
by accident, but by nature. The one class, while
recognizing, in the heart of man, a tendency to evil,
regard that tendency as a primitive law of his being, an
interior force, rivalling the moral element which gives
it an opportunity of displaying its force, and triumphing
with so much greater merit and honor. The others
maintain that God has not made evil ; that an adver-
sary has come and sown impure tares among our wheat ;
and that harmony, not combat, is the regular and
healthy state of every soul.

Reason sheds very little light upon all these ques-
tions. How many philosophers and profound thinkers
have they not ah^eady completely defeated ! Neverthe-
less, from all the intricacies of logic, and from the hands
of all the sophists, one truth has always escaped, intact,
entire, and invincible ; it is, that men have sinned ; that
all, more or less, live in disorder ; that, as long as they
are in the flesh, they are enveloped in sin ; and that, by
an inexplicable contrast, they join, with the conscious-
ness of their servitude or captivity, an irresistible feel-
ing of guilt and responsibility.

As to a more perfect knowledge of the nature, the
extent, and the consequences of sin, we shall never ob-
tain it, unless we have recourse to the Christian revela-
tion. This revelation does not confine itself to saying
that all men have sinned ; it throws a vivid light upon

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 297

this declaration by the words which terminate my text :
" They are deprived of all glory before God." To
every one who adopts this second sentence, the mean-
ing of the first becomes perfectly clear and precise. It
is then to prove that man has no subject of glory before
God that we are to apply it.

We have already said, that this declaration meets
with more who deny it than the first. What does it,
in fact, mean ? It means that man has nothing in him
which he can urge as a distinction in the eyes of God,
as a merit or a defence ; nothing which can, in itself,
assure us of his good-will. Is not this truth disputed ?

We by no means dispute it, some will say ; for it is
quite evident that all we are we owe to God ; our good
qualities are his work ; and, in this view, the most vir-
tuous man is included with all others in the application
of this sentence : " They are deprived of all occasion of
glory before God."

We admit it willingly, and the apostle himself would
equally admit it. It was St. James who said to the
primitive Christians, " Every good gift and every perfect
gift Cometh down from the Father of lights ;" he alone
produces in us the power both to will and to act, accord-
ing to his good pleasure. "What have we that we
have not received from him ; and if we have received
it, why do we boast as if we had not received it ?" But
it is clear that it is from another point of view that the
apostle reasons in the chapter where our text is found,
and that it has another meaning than the one which
these persons would give it.

It is not merely a homage which the apostle would
render to the author of every perfect gift ; it is a con-
demnation he would pronounce. Upon whom ? Upon

13*

298 vinet's miscellanies.

man in every condition ? No, but upon man unregen-
erate, upon man in his natural state. And the expression
of the apostle evidently signifies that as long as man has
not accepted the benefit of the redemption by Jesus
Christ, he is, with relation to God, in a state of reproba-
tion, from which he has in himself absolutely nothing
that can deliver him. This proposition, I believe, will
find a considerable number of opponents.

We do not wish to burden this sentence with what
evidently does not belong to it. We do not wish to
confound two distinct spheres. In the presence of his
fellow-man, man is not absolutely without glory. Man
can offer to man something to be admired and praised,
or at least to be respected. Indeed, it would be to
belie our own consciousness, and place ourselves in an
untenable position, in all cases to refuse a sentiment of
approbation to the conduct of our fellow- creatures. In
other words, man is frequently forced to recognize in
man something which he is obliged to call virtue.

Virtue he discovers and recognizes not merely in the
Christian, whose moral nature has been renewed by the
gospel, but in others. Far from all admiration being
confined to that quarter, the admiration of men, nay
more, of Christians, is frequently directed towards the
natural or unregenerate man. Whatever may be the
harsh assertions of an ill-understood orthodoxy, it is
certain that the Christian who is the most disposed, in
theory, to refuse all reahty and all value to human
virtues, every moment contradicts himself in practice.
A benefit received from one of his fellow-men moves
his heart ; he speaks of gratitude, he is, in reality, grate-
ful ; that is to say, he recognizes, in his benefactor, a
benevolent and disinterested intention ; he attributes to

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 299

the action, for which he has occasion to rejoice, another
value than the personal profit he derives from it, an in-
trinsic, or a moral value. His benefactor is something
else in his eyes than a tree, well planted, which bears
spontaneously good fruits ; he sees in him a generous
will, which, without being incited from without, has
used its capacity and means to procure an advantage
to a sensitive being. I know", indeed, that a narrow
system may, at length, re- act upon the soul, and reduce
it to its own standard, but it cannot tear from the soul
those instincts so deeply rooted in it. And all that such
a system can do, w^ith reference to the essential nature
of the soul, is to reduce it to silence, but not to stifle it.
In favor of the reality of human virtue, in some de-
gree, we boldly invoke the testimony of all men, if not
their express and voluntary testimony, at least that
sudden and irresistible testimony which may be called
the voice of nature. We shall obtain from them a tes-
timony even more explicit than this, if we can, for a
moment, induce them to descend into the arena where
the facts wait to be combated. Of these facts we shall,
without hesitation, abandon to them a great number.
We shall consent to reject, as far from the sphere of
virtuous actions, all those which may be explained by
custom or prejudice ; all those in reference to which,
interest, gross or delicate, may have played a part ; all
those which the applause of men might or could follow.
They may do with such actions what they please ; we
defend them not ; our cause can dispense with them.
But as to those in which virtue can be explained only
by virtue, — those which have been performed far from
the eyes of man, and without any reasonable hope of
ever attracting their attention, — those which, so far

300 vinet's miscellanies.

from having been able to count upon their suffrage,
had in prospect only their contempt, — those in which
opprobrium could not be converted into glory by the
enthusiastic adherence of a certain number of parti-
sans,— those, in a word, which never could have ex-
isted, unless there had been in the hearts of their
authors an idea of duty, or a sentiment of disinterest-
edness ; all such they must leave us ; and however
small may be their number, and however widely sepa-
rated by great distances on the earth, and by centuries
of time, we believe that they sufficiently protest against
a vain denial, and in their mournful rareness, prove the
presence and perpetual action of a moral principle in
the bosom of the human race.

We have, in this cause, the gospel itself in our favor.
We see there the same writers who have taught us the
entire fall and condemnation of man, unhesitatingly
according to human virtues those praises which could
not be accorded to them in a system which denies all
moral value in the actions of men. It is true they ac-
knowledged that, in an elevated sense, there is none
righteous, no, not one ; that none doeth good, no, not
one ; that all flesh has corrupted his way ; but, after
all, the same writers praise a barbarous people who re-
ceived them, after their shipwreck, with much humani-
ty (Acts xxviii. 2 ;) they return thanks for the affection-
ate care of a man, who, without knowing them, and
without expecting anything from them, did them all the
good their situation required (Acts xxviii. 7.) And St.
Paul, the very one who takes away from man all occa-
sion of glory before God, acknowledges in his Epistle
to the Romans, that the Gentiles do naturally, at least
in a certain measure, the things which are according to

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 301

law, and by this means he shows, that what is written
in the law is also written in their hearts. After these
testimonies a Christian can have no difficulty in admit-
ting a principle of action in man, different from that of
self-interest ; and this principle being once recognized
and defined, it is of little consequence by what name it
is called.

Singular thing ! it is among the followers of Chris-
tianity, and among them only, that our position ought
to find opponents. But we see rising against it, in the
ranks of those who oppose Christianity, as great a num-
ber of adversaries. It is sometimes against the natural
man that we have to defend the reality of natural vir-
tues. It is before man himself that man can scarcely
find favor. It is man that refuses to man the occasion
of glory which we have not hesitated to accord to him.
The very same persons who tax Christianity with mis-
anthropy and exaggeration, when it proclaims the
nothingness of human virtues, are often, in the practice
of life, the most sceptical of all virtue. They demolish,
stone by stone, the edifice which they are eager and in
haste to re-construct, when the question is agitated
about finding a retreat against the overpowering asser-
tions of the gospel. Ready to defend against it, in gen-
eral, the goodness, and even perfection of our nature,
they contradict themselves, in detail, in a manner the
most striking. To them all men are good, but each
man is bad. Their distrust and caprice give credit to
no action and to no man. Nothing beautiful or good
escapes the corrosion of their cruel interpretations.
They have in reserve for each good action a bitter and
degrading explanation. When a beautiful fruit falls
into their hands, their first idea is not to nourish them-

302 vinet's miscellanies.

selves by it, but to find there the hidden worm which
gnaws its interior. Thus their habitual practice belies
their theory. But what shall be said of those who ad-
mit into their minds two contradictory theories ; of
those who, reproaching Christianity with the harshness
of its doctrines, have adopted, according to their own
estimate, opinions as harsh, and perhaps more so ; of
those who, analyzing the human heart, flatter them-
selves that they have discovered (happy discovery !)
that all its fibres vibrate to that of selfishness ; who ask
man to sign with them the sentence of his own dis-
honor, and yet demand a glory in compensation for
that which they have taken away from us ? There are
times when this bitter contempt of human nature, this
denial of all moral worth in man, becomes a general
belief, and almost a popular instinct. This is seen es-
pecially at the termination of great and cruel deceptions
on society, when having, through faith in its leaders,
given its adherence to seducing theories, confirmed by
imposing words, it discovers that it has been deceived,
and in the disgust which follows its previous intoxica-
tion, includes in an equal contempt all professions of
faith, all protestations of benevolence, of justice, and
devotion. The profanation of words leads to the con-
tempt of things. In morality, as well as in religion,
unbelief is the necessary re-action of hypocrisy. In
the train of religious contests ordinarily comes religious
scepticism ; and wars of opinion, after an enormous ex-
penditure of maxims, declamations, and protestations,
end by giving birth to moral scepticism.

This kind of disgust which usually follows in the train
of great social commotions, we produce at pleasure in
ourselves, during quiet and ordinary times, by the gen-

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 303

eral contemplation of society and the study of history.
Those whom their individual relations might have led
to accord some respect to humanity, in passing from
individuals to the race, insensibly change their views.
It is rare that in this aspect of mankind, the conviction
of the degradation of human nature does not fasten it-
self strongly upon their soul. A conviction so much
more painful, when identifying itself, so to speak, with
the consciousness of the whole human race, they feel
on its behalf an immense remorse. The guilt of the
whole human family is heaped upon their conscience,
as that of an accomplice. Their pride yields in spite
of them to this humiliating fellowship ; because, in view
of so many transgressions, revealing in their own heart
the hidden germ from which unhappy circumstances
might cause the same iniquities to spring forth, they
feel themselves condemned by the crimes of society,
degraded by its degradation, humbled by its shame.*

* If humanity is corrupted in the mass, it would certainly be very
difficult to prove that it is pure in the details. If the race has fallen,
siu-ely individuals cannot be innocent. That there are among them
diversities of character, some being better and some worse, at least
with reference to certain aspects of character, none will deny ; but that
the taint of sin has, more or less, reached the heart of every man, all
experience and observation go to prove. Even if an individual were
conscioas of some purity, ought not the very fact that he belongs to a
degenerate race,_to excite in him some suspicion as to his own integrity ?
Can lie condemn the whole of his kind, and acquit himself? Can he
look upon the wreck of humanity, and feel that he alone has escaped i
Can lie complacently say, Man is sinful, but I am holy ; man is fallen,
but I am safe ? Impossible ! For each man is a part of humanity, and
must yield, in spite of himself, to that "humiliating fellowsliip." If he
does not, if he separates himself from liis fellow-sinners, and says,
" Stand by, for I am holier than thou," what estimate is formed of him
by others, and even by those who are the greatest sticklers for the
natural innocence of man ? Do they not denounce him as a pluirisee or

304 vinet's miscellanies.

This is not all. How, say they, confusedly, can gen-
erous juices circulate in a tree with that poisonous sap?
And when, not only in the same nation, but also in the
same individual, we see developed together the most
ordinary vices by the side of the loftiest virtues, the
most unnatural sentiments by the side of the noblest
emotions, are we not led irresistibly to doubt the reality
of good in the midst of so much evil ; and, at the sight
of these golden particles scattered in the mud, to sup-
pose that this noble metal is not actually there, but that
a singular play of light from above has, at times, given
to some portions of the mud the appearance and glitter
of gold ? Let us examine, let us analyze, and we shall
be surprised to see how many virtues are entirely false,
how many actions, good in themselves, are dishonored
by an unholy motive, how many others by an admix-
ture of impurity. Let us demand from ourselves an
account of our admiration; by tarnishing the principle,
we tarnish the object. Let us inquire if the enthusiasm
we have felt in view of great historical virtues was en-
tirely pure, and if it had not for its principle, less the
love of virtue than the love of glory. Let us inquire if
virtue, stripped £>f every poetical circumstance, reduced
to the persevering but uniform, the zealous but con-
cealed observance of duties which spring from a vulgar

a hypocrite ? And do they not thus recognize the truth of what the
Scriptui-es have said, that " there is no difference, for all have sinned
and come short of the glory of God ?" We cheerfully admit that man,
though fallen, has a noble nature. It is a palace deserted. Enough of
its primitive grandeur remains to prove that God once dwelt there.
Its silence and desolation are mournful, but they are the silence and
desolation of a majestic ruin, beautiful even in decay. Besides, the
materials are entire, and may yet be re-constructed on a new found a
lion, and once more attract the presence of the King of kings. — T.

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 305

position, if virtue under such a form, and the less sus-
pected on that very account, does not inspire us with
an interest comparatively feeble ; and if this be not a
sentiment quite as moral as that which transported us
from that dull and gloomy horizon to a dazzling one,
where gi'eat achievements and mighty intellectual
powers enhanced in our eyes the qualities of great
hearts. If our admiration thus permits itself to be cor-
rupted, will virtue itself be incorruptible ? If glory has
deceived our enthusiasm, has it exerted less influence
on the great actions which awakened it in us ? And
must we not place to its account a part, alas ! a very
great part of the virtues we admire ?

You see, thus, that if the opposition of one class of
religious men gives a defender of human virtues some-
thing to do, the opposition of another class of opponents
subjects him to no less embarrassment. For we con-
fess, that after the knowledge of human nature we
believe ourselves to have acquired, we should, to-day,
find a difiiculty, if we wished to do anything more than
save a few remains from the wreck. For we believe
in the wreck of humanity ; we believe that its unfortu-
nate ship has perished; the remains of that great catas-
trophe float on the waves. A few of these are yet fit
for some use, but none of them can bear to the shore
the least of the passengers. Convinced fully that man
is fallen, we cannot, however, admit that he has become
an entire stranger to every moral sentiment ; we think
we can see, through his corruption, traces, — sometimes
brilliant traces, — of justice and benevolence, to which
we cannot refuse our admiration ; in a word, we beUeve
that man is not stripped of all occasion of glory before
man.

306 vinet's miscellanies.

Let man be satisfied with us ; we have done him
justice. Let him surround himself with these splendid
rags ; let him admire them ; let him try to clothe and
adorn his nakedness with them ; we agree to it ; we
go farther ; — we respect those rags, and we know why.
But whatever high value he may place upon his proud
indigence, what peace and hope can he derive from
that incoherent and contradictory assemblage of the
most extravagant moral elements ; that will which ac-
knowledges the law, yet tramples it under foot, which
loves duty and yet hates it ; that heart which receives
with the same favor, and cherishes together, passions
the most brutal, and devotion the most heroic ? Will
he persuade himself that all in him is good ; or that
the good can compensate for the bad ; or that this mix-
ture constitutes order itself, and that God wills the bad
as well as the good ? A craving for unity, stronger
than all reasonings, appeals to him against it. An
anguish stronger than all the consolations of a false
wisdom, repeats to him that there is no safety but in
unity. A confused sentiment warns him that a good
which does not conquer the bad is not the true good ;
and that a virtue which leaves a vice to dwell by its
side is not true virtue ; that true virtue dwelling in the
centre of the soul would exclude, by its very presence,
everything which is not virtue ; that what he has hon-
ored, under this name, is not then truly virtue, but its
shadow or its remembrance ; while a voice of condem-
nation resounds hoarsely, during the whole of his life,
above the applauses which by turns he gives and re-
ceives. Cruel doubts ! Frightful shadows I What will
disperse you ? What will shed upon the close of this
gloomy career a consoling light ? The light which will

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 807

illumine the past will illumine also the future; that
which will explain the evil will also indicate the cure ;
it is under the ruins of our ancient dwelling that we
must seek the foundations of the new. Unity, light,
and hope we find all at once, in the word which has
said to all men without distinction, " Ye are stripped
of all glory before God." Let us together consider that
great truth.

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD.

*' All have sinned and come short of the glory of God."— Rom. iii. 23,

SECOI^D DISCOURSE

In a preceding discourse, we have said that man has
some occasions of glory before man. Poor distinctions
which he disputes to himself, and which, after a more
attentive examination, he very often tears to pieces
with a blush. Of what remains, of what ought not to
be refused him, he cannot make a counterpoise to his
misery ; his shame, even in his own eyes, will always
be greater than his glory. The general condition of
humanity, even in eras of culture and in centres of civ-
ilization, always appears to him one of degradation and
ruin. This is a conclusion to which he is almost infal-
libly conducted by a profound study of human affairs.
It is a result also to which many good men are brought
by the mere examination of their own hearts, and the
rigorous analysis of their actions.* Such is the con-

* It may be thought strange that, while good men readily confess
their sinfulness, bad men generally deny it. Sceptics, it is found, are
ordinarily proud and self-conceited. But some of them have been com-
pelled to confess their conscious weakness and imperfection. Few men
were probably more calmly and proudly self-conceited than Goethe,
who, with a clear and majestic intellect, had, we fear, an earthly and

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 809

dition of man ; such is his glory ; let him take posses-
sion of it ; but let him not stretch forth his hand to a
higher glory, the glory which comes from God. This
we absolutely refuse him.

Already, by his own reflections, w^hether he form a
moderate or an extravagant estimate of his moral
v/orth, man is necessarily driven to acknowledge that
he cannot pretend to much glory before God. That
God, whose piercing eyes try the hearts and the reins,
can see there a thousand imperfections, which we do
not see ; and since nothing can corrupt his judgaient,
nothing can induce us to hope that he will fall into the
slightest mistake respecting us. Moreover, he is a God,
perfectly holy, " whose eyes," saith the Scriptures, '•' are
too pure to look upon iniquity." When he sees evil in
the heart, he does not receive from it those feeble im-
pressions which we do. He has a horror of everything
which violates order ; and this horror does not, like ours,
attach itself exclusively to those actions which are more
repugnant to our feelings than others, or which more
sensiblv disturb social relations. Far above such dis-
tinctions by the majesty of his nature, his divine im-
partiality attaches itself to the principle of actions ; it is
by their principle he judges them ; and from this point
of view, he does not always mark, with a stronger rep-
robation, the enormities which appal us, than the defects

sensual heart ; a fact of which he was not altogether unconscious. The
folknving, from Eckeruian's Conversations, p. 309, is an imUrect, but
striking testimony to this fact. " It is from olden time," said Goethe,
"said and repeated, that man should striv^e to know liimself. To tliis
singular requisition no man eitlier has fully answered, or shall answer.
* * * * jyjan is a darkened being ; he knows not whence he comes
nor wliither he goes ; he knows little of the world, and less of himselt
I know not myself, and may Clod protect me from it." — T.

310 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

to which our blame scarcely reaches. His justice, all
divine, by disarranging our classifications, raises all to
the same level, and gives the name of crime to customs
which do not cost us the slightest scruple. Not only
our vices, but our imperfections, our pretended indiffer-
ent actions, frequently our very virtues, rush at his
bidding, to swell the ranks, where already crowd so
many obvious crimes. Judged by this holy and formi-
dable Judge, even the good man is transformed into a
criminal, and models of righteousness appear as models
of iniquity. If it is thus that God judges us, and how
can we believe that he judges otherwise, there is doubt-
less left us very little occasion of glory before God.
But is it not possible for you to judge of this by your-
selves, by placing your minds, as far as may be, in the
point of view occupied by your Creator? You can
certainly do this, by considering the perfect law, where,
as in a mirror, the divine perfection itself is reflected.
The perfect law, or the law of perfection, has, in its
application, no other limits than those of possibility.
You need not consider it as a whole ; take only one of
its articles, that which commands us to do towards our
neighbor, whatever we should desire him to do towards
us. I am not afraid that you will refuse this precept ;
no one refuses it. Those who do not wish to hear us
speak of Christian doctrine, willingly receive Christian
morality ; they pride themselves on feeling its beauty ;
they exalt it above all others. Singular prepossession !
For the morality ought to be much more offensive to
them than the doctrine ; the doctrine is consoling, the
morality discouraging. But however that may be,
judge yourselves by this one article ; for if this article
be true, if it ought to be maintained in all its force, if it

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 311

does not behoove you to mutilate or weaken it, ac-
knowledge that it condemns you. To treat your neigh-
bor as you would that he should treat you ! Such is the
precept, — but pray, when have you observed it ; or
rather what day, what hour, have you not violated it ?
This precept, you know, is not negative ; it embraces
all the offices, all the cares, all the devotion and ardor
of charity. It supposes that he who would observe it,
shall not live for himself; that the welfare of his breth-
ren shall become the principal motive of his life ; that
he shall include the whole world in his embrace, by the
power of a generous love. Well, this positive aspect
of the precept I will give up to you; and suppose,
against all philosophical truth, that the negative part is
independent of the other, and that charity may be con-
fined to abstinence and omission. Thus, if anv one ab-
stain from doing to another the evil which he does not
wish to receive from him, he is, by that alone, to be re-
garded as charitable. Well, have you, even in this
limited sense, fulfilled the law ? Do you fulfil it, when
you use your right with rigor, and when no obligation
compels you to use it thus ? Do }^u fulfil it, when you
give your neighbor examples which it would be inju-
rious to you to receive ? Do you fulfil it, when, with-
out necessity, you wound his self-love, you whose self-
love is so sensitive ? Do vou fulfil it, when vou refuse
him those attentions, which you are yourself so eager to
receive ? Do } ou fulfil it, when you judge his actions
with an unfeeling severity, which you would not pardon
in him, if he were to exercise it towards you ? Of two
duties, one, at least, is imposed upon you ; either you
must abstain from these things, or renounce whatever,
up to this moment, you have required from another;

312 vinet's miscellanies.

you must either give what you have required from him,
or not require from him what you are unwiUing to give
him. Have you fulfilled this law? Have you not
violated it every moment ? Pass in review, in the same
way, all the other articles of the law.. Examine your-
selves under the various relations it embraces. Hear
its decision ; for it is as if God himself spoke. Then
estimate your deficiencies, and see the ground covered
with your broken merits, your prostrate virtues. You
went to meet God, in pompous apparel, and with a
magnificent train ; lo ! you have arrived in his presence
through the double hedge of the precepts of the law;
look now, on each side of you, look behind you ! What
remains to you of that proud train ? Are you not alone,
and without support before God, and reduced humbly
to beg mercy from him, whose justice you came proudly
to claim ?

I have said mercy, for without going further, I can
already say it. The law in fact demanded nothing less
than its full observance ; your conscience also demanded
as much ; for at each duty neglected, at each trans-
gression committed, it failed not in a single instance,
to utter the cry of alarm. Even if you had fulfilled all
its requirements, you must yet have placed yourselves in
the rank of, unprofitable servants. If, then, you have not
been raised to the rank even of unprofitable servants,
what is your position ? And, to go to the bottom of the
matter, what do you think of those frequent, those per-
petual transgressions of the law, except that you have
not loved it ? For, if perchance you have fulfilled some
of its precepts, you did so, because it happened to be
agreeable to your inclinations, while the law in itself,
the law as law, was hateful to you ; and hence, if you

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 313

have occasionally fallen in with it, you have never
obeyed it. You will, therefore, conclude with me that
you are rebels; that some acts of obedience, apparent
and accidental, cannot remove from you that terrible
distinction ; and that mercy, not justice, is your only
resource.

At this point, it seems to us, that we have said enough,
to reach the end of all Christian preaching, that is, to
cast the sinner trembling at the foot of mercy. But we
do not forget what is the precise subject of this medita-
tion. We have shown thus far, or rather we have
ascertained with vou, that man has few occasions of
boasting before God. We must go still further ; we
must prove, according to the declaration of the apostle,
that " all occasion for boasting is excluded."

To glorify himself before God ! And for what ? For
having, whether in virtue or in vice, incessantly dis-
obeyed him ? For this is the crime which equalizes,
among all men, all moral conditions. Other iniquities
are individual ; this is the great iniquity of the human
race. Virtuous or vicious, we have all excluded God
from our thoughts, from our motives of action, from
our life. We have all equally violated the first, the
greatest of all obligations. We are all, in the same
degree, transgressors of eternal order.

Let a man, (I will, for a moment, suppose what is im-
possible,) let a man present himself to us. who can say,
I have observed all the commandments of the law from
my youth, only I have cared nothing for God. I have
fulfilled my duties, only I have neglected the one which
is most essential. I have been virtuous in every point,
only I have committed the greatest of crimes. With
how much propriety shall we say to him, You have not

14

314 vinet's miscellanies.

been virtuous at all ; that is impossible. From the
same source cannot spring sweet water and bitter.
The same soul cannot contain elements so contradic-
tory. The mind refuses to conceive an alliance so
monstrous. And if you persist in calling virtue, acts
which we admit enjoy the esteem of men, you compel
us to affirm that such acts cannot constitute true vir-
tue. Detached from the true principle of all good, they
wither, as necessarily as a flower separated from its
roots, and " the jealous God" can never honor a proud
virtue which has never honored him.

And let no one say that this is a dispute about words ;
that obedience only is essential ; and that he who obeys
the law and his conscience obeys God. If the one is
identical with the other, if the one costs no more effort
than the other, whence comes that universal repugnance
to pass from the one to the other, from the law to the
lawgiver, from the conscience to God ? Whence comes
that inconceivable preference of the thing to the per-
son, of the idea to its source, of the abstraction to the
living being ? Why will not man obey the voice of
God, except indirectly ? Why obstinately refuse an
immediate contact with his heavenly Father ? If he
respects the law as coming from God, if he honors con-
science as the voice of God, whence comes it that God
himself is not the direct end and object of his homage ?
The truth is, it is not God he honors in the law and in
conscience, but himself. He appropriates these two ele-
ments, and these two authorities, to his own use, trans-
forms them into his own being, and by adoring them as
a part of himself, in reality adores himself

What imports it, you say, that I neglect the lawgiver,
provided I obsei-ve the law ? This idea would be admis-

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 315

sible, to some extent, in our relations with the lawgivers
of this world. They are but men, your equals, mere
representatives of the society of which you form a part,
simple organs of the ideas of justice and order, which a
higher power has deposited in society. They possess
no dignity, the source of which is in themselves. It is
not thus with God ; he represents no one. He is not
the organ of law ; he is the living law. The law itself
is not law^, except as it comes from him. He is him-
self the supreme and final reason of all that he does,
the supreme and final reason of all ideas. While it is
the law which we honor in the person of the legislator,
here it is the legislator that we must honor in the law.
To observe the law without respect to the lawgiver, is
actually to violate the law ; for our first duty relates to
the lawgiver. To respect the ideas, and neglect him
who is their author and source, who is the cause of
their truth, and of whom those ideas are only the
shadow or the reflection, is the most appalling of con-
tradictions. To admit conscience and duty, justice
and injustice, as realities, and to make an abstraction
of the Being who alone is the sanction of these ideas,
who alone gives tTiem a basis, who alone Ijinds the chain
of them to a fixed point, who alone, we may say, ex-
plains their presence in the human mind, and renders
them conceivable, is a profound absurdity. Finally, let
us try to extend and elevate our conception a little.
Let us transport it, as much as our feebleness will
admit, to the idea of the God of Moses ; of him who
named himself I am that I am ; of the necessary Being,
the universal Being, say rather, the Being ; of that
God who is not an idea, a form, an abstraction, but
Being ; of that living, infinite personality, who is essen-

316 vinet's miscellanies.

tially one, of that eternal Me, of whom the me of each
of us is only a mysterious emanation ; of that Being
who is the source of all things, and constitutes our
power, our breath, our life, nay, all in us which is posi-
tive and true.*

* This is a sublime definition of God, but to say tliat the me of each
of us, in other words, that which constitutes our personality, is an ema-
nation of God, is hable to be misunderstood. If by this expression it is
meant that the soul of man was created by God, without any reference
to the mode of that creation, then it is true. But if it is meant to con-
vey the idea that the soul is a part of God, a portion of his essence or
substance, which has proceeded, or flowed out, so to speak, from his in-
finite pleroma, or fulness, then it may be denied, as unphilosophical and
unscriptural. God is a unity, an infinite, undivided and unchangeable
cssepce. He cannot be increased or diminished. Nothing can be given
to him, or taken from him. He cannot, therefore, give off portions of
himself ; nor can these flow from him of their own accord, as rays from
the sun, or streams from the fountain. That he has all the treasures of
wisdom and knowledge, that he can perform all possible things, and
bestow all possible blessings, is cheerfully granted. But he cannot (with
reverence be it spoken) impart any portion of his own infinite essence,
he cannot divide or diminish, multiply or increase, what properly con-
stitutes himself, his personality, or, as the French and Germans call it,
the infinite and eternal Me. No creature, then, however highly en-
dowed, is, properly speaking, God, or a part of God. He may be made
in the image of God, that is to say, lie may be creQ,ted a spiritual, intel-
ligent, and moral agent ; but he cannot partake of his essence or per-
sonality, which is equally incapable of division or multiplication.

God has the power of creation ; an original and peculiar, as Avell as
mysterious and amazing power. He speaks, and it is done^k he com-
mands, and it stands fast. But to say that he creates by giving out
portions of himself, or parting with his oAvn essence, now forming souls
of it, and now bodies, is assuming what can never be proved, and what
seems to contradict our most necessary conceptions of the nature of
God. For if God creates thus, then all spirits, and not only so, but all
matter is God. Everytliing is God, and God is everything. This is the
idea of Pantheism. It is the very basis of the doctrine of an impersonal
God, from which the atheism and impiety of " yoimg Germany" are
legitimatelj' born. For if the premises be just, the conclusion is logical

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 317

After this, is there one of us who will dare to say
that it is the law^ which concerns us, and not the Law-
giver ?

You place your Creator on the same level with a
human legislator, and because the latter demands noth-
ing more than obedience, you claim that God will not
demand more. But in the divine Legislator, do you

and irresistible. But tlie doctrine of Pantheism, whether it ajjpear in the
gorgeous dreams of oriental theosophy, the subtleties of Spinoza and
Hegel, or the blasphemous ravuigs of Gutzkow and Heine, is neither, in
its premises or conclusions, the doctrine of the Bible nor of common
sense. For while God is " in all, and through all," he is above all and
independent of all. The soul of man is a creation, so is his body, so are
all souls and all bodies. " In the begimiiug, God created the heavens and
the earth." " He said. Let there be light, and there was light." He
said, " Let us make man in our image," and man was made in his
image. But while the soul exhibited the image of God, it was neither
God nor a part of God, but a separate being, a free and responsible
agent, under law to the Almighty. " Our God made the heavens."
" From him cometh every good and perfect gift." The God of the
Bible, then, the God of Christianity, is a personal God, an infinite but
independent Intelhgence, a holy and ever-blessed Sovereign, to whom
we owe the homage of the heart, the obedience of the Hfe.

This is a subject of great importance, and cannot be discussed in a
note; but we could not justify ourselves in passing it over in silence.
Our author's views are, doubtless, scriptural and philosophical, but the
expression in the text required this explanation. His definition of God
is remarkably striking, and reminds us of Sir Isaac I^evrton's, which is
the best we have ever seen. We subjoin it with a translation. The
original maybe found in Dugald Stewart's Dissertations, Part II, p. 105,
Note.

" Deus eternus est et infinitus, omnipotens et omnisciens ; id est, durat
ab £Bterno in ceternum, et adest ab infinite in infinitum. Non est aeter-
nitas et infinitas, sed seternus et infinitus ; non est duratio et spatium sed
durat et adest. Durat semper et adest ubique, et existendo semper et
ubique, durationem et spatium constituit." — " God is eternal and infi-
nite, omnipotent and omniscient ; that is, he endures from eternity to
eternity, and is present from infinity to infinity. He is not eternity and
infinity, but ett^rnal and infinite ; he is not duration and space, but en-

318 vinet's miscellanies.

recognize nothing more than a legislator ? Is there
nothing but the law between you and God ? Is it the
law which has conferred upon you so many means of
enjoyment and happiness ? Is it the law which has
conceded to you the empire of nature ? Is it the law
which has formed between you and your kindred the
mysterious and delightful union of hearts ? No ; in
these immense benefits, one of which would suffice for
the happiness of beings less privileged, the Lawgiver
conceals himself, and the Father appears, a father
whose goodness transcends all thought. And you think
that a cold and servile obedience can acquit you before
him ? You think that the power to love which he has
planted in your bosom ought never to remount to him !
That all your obedience should not be love ! That
your heart should not seek beyond the law and beyond
the Lawgiver, the Father, the Goodness, the love, from
whom proceed for you, life, and even love and felicity !
And you say coldly, unnatural creatures! We obey, —
it is enough ; are we not acquitted ? And of that law
which you pretend to fulfil, do you not understand that
you have violated the first and the greatest command-
ment, by refusing to God love for love ! No, — tell me
not that in the law you honor the Lawgiver ; unless,
perhaps, he should be honored by fear ! Tell me not

dures and is present. He endures always and is present everywhere,
and by existing always and everywhere, constitutes duration and space."
What a comment on the I am that I am, of Moses !

" Tell them I am ! Jehovah said
To Moses, wliile earth heard in dread,

And smitten to the heart,
At once above, beneath, around.
All nature, without voice or sound,

Ueplied 0 Lord, thou art 1"

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 319

that your homage secures your felicity, unless, perhaps,
a feeling, which, in all its power, could not draw a
demon from hell, may suffice by itself to introduce you
into heaven ! The law, practised in such a spirit, kills,
does not save you.

You honor conscience ! Indeed, I believe it. It
would be difficult not to honor it, to a certain extent.
It would not pardon neglect. Invisible sting, planted
by the side of the soul, the least irregular motion impels
the soul against that hidden point, and inflicts a painful
wound. But if conscience, after God had been exiled
from the human heart, still remained there, it would be
incessantly to warn it of God. But who receives that
warning ? You recognize the authority of conscience ;
you say that you have frequently heard it ; but you
ascend no higher. Thing truly inconceivable ! Sepa-
rated from the idea of God, conscience, in our nature,
is nothing but a mockery, an enigma, a nonentity.
Well, it is on this very footing that the greater part of
mankind admit it. Indeed, you see some, to whom the
idea of the judgments of God and a final responsibility
is completely foreign, who at least reject it, and who,
nevertheless, speak fluently of conscience as their inter-
nal ffuide ; forffettins^ that if conscience has no one
from whom it derives authoritv and to whom it can
appeal, if it does not deduce its power from God, it has
nothing to say, nothing to command, Why is it heard ?
Why is it acknowledged ? Because this is not a mat-
ter of choice. Conscience is in us ; nor does it depend
on us that it should not be there ; absent, we cannot
recall it ; present, we cannot deny its presence. But
its presence, often otherwise unpleasant, and viewed
with an evil eye, is not the presence of God. Con-

320 vinet's miscellanies.

science is only the permanent and indelible imprint of
a powerful hand, which after having pressed us, is with-
drawn from us, or rather from which a hostile force
has torn us. The hand is gone, the imprint remains.
That mysterious impression, which we have not made
upon ourselves, leads the man who reflects, to a con-
fused idea of God. It causes him to infer, and to seek
after the absent hand ; but, by itself, it cannot enable
him to find it.

Would you have a sensible idea of conscience in
man ? An ungrateful child, impelled by infatuated
pride, and seduced by evil counsels, escapes from the
paternal roof to taste an independence which has been
represented to him as the greatest of blessings. He
plunges into the world, without means or prospect.
His disorders and excesses, though they may not pro-
voke the severity of civil justice, mark him, in all
places, under his distinctive traits, as a rebellious and
unnatural son. But in the midst of his wanderings,
something indicates that he is derived from a good
family ; in his language, a happy choice of expression ;
in his manners, something superior ; in his behavior,
even honorable actions, which form a striking contrast
with the general character of his life ; in a word, a
lingering something which it is difficult to efface from
the original habits of a man well brought up, accompa-
nies him into all the places and all the societies where
such merit is least appreciated. It seems as if we
might expect every species of evil from a being who
has voluntarily broken the heart of a father ; and yet,
quite often, when the seduction of example impels
him to overleap the last barriers of honor, he hesitates,
he draws back ; self-respect appears to hold him still.

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 321

Clinging to him, in spite of himself, the recollections of
his first condition follow him, surround him, and inter-
cept, on the way to his heart, a part at least of the
pestilential malaria which the world exhales, and pre-
vents him from running from excess to excess, and
from fall to fall, through all the possible consequences
of his first crime.

Faithful image of man in his state of defection, con-
science yet speaks to him. Sometimes he follows it ;
but as for Him in whose name it speaks, who has planted
it in the bosom of man as a perpetual monitor, as a cry
of recall incessantly repeated, — he hears him not, he
serves him not, nay more, he abjures him ; and yet he
cannot be still, because, after all, he has, now and then,
yielded something to the clamorous importunities of
conscience ! Ah ! if he had always heard it, always
followed it, the difference would not have been great,
for it is not thus that God teaches his rights and our
duty. Whatever may be the dignity of conscience, a
dignity it borrows from God, God will not be supplanted
by it. Far from yielding to it any of his rights, far
indeed from abdicating his authority in its favor, as
some appear to suppose, God, who will not permit pre-
scription to be established in opposition to his claims,
has sometimes commanded conscience itself to be silent
before him. It is on the idea of his immediate right to
obedience that many of the dispensations and decrees
of the ancient economy rest. Indeed, if you look at that
history as a whole, you see that while God, in general,
respects his own work, by recognizing and even sanc-
tioning the moral law, which he has written, from the
beginning, in the human heart, you perceive also, that,
as he occasionally intervenes by his power, in the

14*

322 vinet's miscellanies.

working of miracles, without changing in any respect
the combination of forces of which he has composed the
miiverse, so hkewise, in the sphere of morals, he imposes
a momentary silence on the sensibilities of om' natm-e,
and even on om' conscience, by commanding what
these would not even have permitted. While Abraham
is commended for having led his son to the funeral pile,
in spite of the murmurs of the paternal heart, and Saul
is punished for having obeyed an emotion of pity, and not
committing what, on another occasion, would have been
called an abuse of victory, do we not recognize in these
two terrible facts a striking symbol of the truth which I
advocate, namely, that God is above conscience, that it
is to him our obedience ought to be addressed, and
that his divine jealousy cannot be satisfied at a less
price ?*

* Tlie procedure of God is ever in harmony with conscience and law.
So far as these are perfect tliey are but an expression of the divine
character and will. He may seem to suspend their action, as in the case
of Abraham and of Saul, but the result shows that, all the time, he was
acting in harmony with their fundamental principles. But as the law
resolves itself into the will of God, and he has the sovereign disposal of
life and death, he has a right to take the life of liis creatures, or command
it to be taken whenever he pleases. Still, he will always act in harmony
with law, that is to say, with his own nature. " He cannot deny him-
self." " Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ?" But he must
be judged by his own standard ; he must be permitted to interpret his
own doings. He has, therefore, only appeared, in special exigences
and for purposes at once good and wise, to suspend the action of
natural and moral laws; but he has never annulled them, never
violated them. All has been order in nature ; all has been righteous-
ness in morals. If at any time, his hand has parted the clouds, or laid
itself upon the conscience of man, it has been done to show that he is
infinite and supreme ; that he is above all law and conscience ; or rather
that he is one with a perfect law and a perfect conscience, and can use
them, as he pleases, to promote the sublime purposes of his providence

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 323

Let US confirm these principles by an important con-
sideration. It is, that obedience to God, I mean to God
immediately, is alone capable of producing virtue. If
recalling all that we have conceded, in a preceding dis-
course, some should find in this assertion a contradiction,
as well as a paradox, they will give some attention to
what remains for us to say.

Is virtue a word, or a thing, a fiction, or a reality ?
If it is a thing, a distinct reality, it must be one in its
principle, one in its origin. If it has several principles,
it is several things at once ; it is an artificial assemblage
of several phenomena, on which has been imposed a
collective name, and the real nature of which remains
by itself inexplicable. It must necessarily be admitted,
that beyond filial piety, justice, benevolence, veracity,
chastity, there is one thing which is none of these in
particular, and which embraces them all at once ; a
principle, according to which we are not only respect-
ful sons, or just, benevolent, sincere, and chaste men ;
but all this at once, all that ice ought to he ; a general
power which must conform our soul to moral order in
all its extent, and cause us to love it in all its applica-
tions ; which, in a word, creates in us, not virtues but
virtue. Does this word virtue, in its general or abstract
sense, signify anything ? Is it a central fountain, of
which particular virtues are the streams, a trunk, of
which particular virtues are the branches? If you
deny this, you are on the way to materialism ; for it
alone can solve your theory. If, on the contrary, you
affirm it, point out to us this trunk, this source. The

and grace. Hence, to pretend to follow the dictates of conscience, or
obey the law, independent of the will and authority of the Lawgiver, is
truly " a profound absurdity." — T.

324 vinet's miscellanies.

discovery of this original principle has been for a long
time the task and the despair of moral philosophy.
Will you seek for it in the conscience ? From the
conscience, in its actual state, you may derive some
particular virtues, but their course, followed back, will
not enable you to reach the primitive stratum, the
original treasury, whence these waters flow. What is
there, in the conscience of man, more general than that
which we have already cited, " As ye would that others
should do to you, do ye even so to them ?" But how
far is this from embracing the whole extent of moral
being ! How should such an axiom contain the obliga-
tion to purify the heart ? How could you conclude
from it the duty of rendering to God the homage which
is his due ? Vast as it is, it does not embrace the half
of our duties. And in practice, what deficiencies, what
inconsistencies, would it not permit to remain ! What,
then, is human morality, but a disconnected and frag-
mentary thing, even in the man who is most distin-
guished for his character ! In vain do you search there
for the common principle of all morality. In a word,
he derives from his conscience only some virtues ; he
cannot derive from it virtue.

Hence it is, that virtue ought not to be sought after,
anywhere below God, who is its supreme and only
source. In fact, the love of God is virtue. The power
which produces in man simultaneously, as from a single
fountain, all the virtues, dwells only in this sentiment.
Thus it is, that in the production of this affection in the
human bosom, the Scriptures make regeneration to con-
sist. It does not teach us to be virtuous by'successive
additions, by placing one virtue, so to speak, side by
side with another. It unites us to God by faith ; and

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 325

this faith which produces love, develops simultaneously
in the renewed soul all those qualities and habits, the
combination of which forms virtue. And it is because
he plants that one germ in the very centre of the soul,
and not at different points on its surface, that he attaches
a sovereign importance to internal dispositions. The
Bible alone has said, with a perfect knowledge of its
cause, " From the heart proceed the springs of life."
Social virtues, followed as an end, by the ordinary
moralist, are in the eyes of the Christian moralist only
the development of internal virtue, the sign and mani-
festation of its presence in the soul. Human morality,
in its most perfect state, is only an ingenious mosaic,
the least concussion of which, makes it a heap of varie-
gated rubbish; Christian morality is the mighty pyra-
mid, every part of which finds the same support in its
immense base, immovable as the ground upon w^hich it
stands.*

* The materialists derive the idea of virtue from order, fitness, har-
mony, utility ; and since the maxim of then* philosophy is, nihil est in
intelleciu, quod nonfuit prius in sensu, there is nothing in the intellect,
which was not first in the senses ; virtue, according to them, is a thing
altogether outward and artificial, a matter of mere expediency, or of
taste. The SpirituaUsts, on the other hand, maintain that it is innate and
universal Some of them would perhaps say, that it is reason in its
highest estate, or that it is God in the soul. This latter view, though an
approach to the truth, is yet vague and unsatisfactory. Indeed, every
one acquainted with the history of metaphysical inquiries, knows that
no subject has more completely bewildered and baffled the profoundest
thinkers. But even if the natiure of virtue were perfectly understood,
the great question would yet remain, How is it to be produced in the
human heart ? Our author says that the love of God is its basis, or
Bource ; and he is unquestionably right. For this affection, the strongest
and purest in man, placed on an infinite object, is alone fitted to control
the whole life. It then becomes universal, resistless, and inexhaustible.
From its very natm-e, it renders virtue precious for its own sake, and

326 vinet's miscellanies.

With whatever pretensions man may approach his
divine Judge, he cannot present himself with virtue; he
has it not, for he has not the love of God. What glory,
then, could he find before God ? Acknowledge that all
occasion of glorifying himself is excluded ; excluded for
the man whom the world despises ; excluded for him
Avhom it esteems. " There is no difierence," says the
apostle, "for all have sinned." Up to this point, the
possibility of a difference may be conceived ; but he
adds, " and are deprived of all glory before God." Here
differences disappear ; for this sin, which is sin properly
speaking, is the same in all. In this point of view, the
most generous man has a hard heart, the most just is
unrighteous, the most honorable unfaithful, the most
loyal rebellious, the most pure adulterous ; for every-
thing he has spared his fellow-men, he has done to God.*

Do not suppose we are ignorant of all the murmurs,
which feeling our natural prejudice may raise against
this declaration. We might confine ourselves to reply-
ing that it remains true notwithstanding, and with an

dearer than all other interests. By enthroning God in the soul, it makes
truth and holiness omnipotent and immortal. — T.

* This, an objector might say, is to confound all moral distinctions.
But if the author's premises are true, his conclusions are inevitable. If
man is destitute of love to God, the fundamental principle of virtue, he
is destitute of all true morality. His heart is corrupt, and his outward
and temporary virtues are radically defective. They may be useful in
society, but they do not unite him to God, nor fit him for immortality.
He is condeumed by the state of his heart, with which the government
of God is chiefly occupied, and must therefore be ranked with the un-
grateful and disobedient. He needs, as well as they, to be forgiven and
renewed. If saved at all, he must be saved by grace, as much as the
Thief on the cross, Mary Magdalene, or Saul of Tarsus. " God hath
concluded them all in unbelief (rebellion) that he might have mercy
upon all."— T.

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 327

evidence stronger than all prejudices. But the con-
sideration of an interesting fact will double, if it be
necessary, the evidence already so great.

It would be natural to presume, that the more virtu-
ous a man was, the less disposed we should find him to
subscribe to the doctrine of our text, or at least to per-
mit himself to be placed, in this respect, on the same
level with a man decidedly vicious. I do not deny, that
we might easily find, among honorable people, some
specimens of this natural pharisaism. But what we
often meet wdth among the noblest souls, and much
more frequently among them than others, is a disposi-
tion to complain of themselves, and voluntarily to place
themselves below those persons who, in the general opin-
ion, are greatly their inferiors. May it not be that
these noble spirits, to whom their very superiority may
be the commencement of a revelation, perceive dimly,
that in the midst of their amiable virtues, virtue itself is
wanting ? We go further : let these souls come in con-
tact with Christianity. To whom, according to com-
mon notions, is it less necessary than to them ? Have
they not already, by virtue of their character, the greater
part of what it can give them ? Alas ! many imagine
it to be really so ! But many more, and that is suffi-
cient for our purpose, judge very differently. In the
midst of their virtues, so highly lauded, a want, not of
perfection only, but of forgiveness, and of grace, takes
powerful possession of their minds ; they confess frankly
that they have no subject of glory before God. Speak
to them of their virtues, they ask if these virtues prevent
their life from being a continued course of transgres-
sions of the divine law. Speak to them of the intrinsic
worth of their virtues, and vou will see them smile

328 vinet's miscellanies.

mournfully ; for they know the defectiveness of these
virtues, entirely human, and so far removed from every
principle of religious obedience. It is not an easy thing
to refuse the testimony of such men ; it would be con-
trary to all good usage, to place more confidence in those
who boast, than in those who accuse themselves. It
would be to suspect the truth in a case where there is
the least reason to suspect it, and to deny the wisdom of
those to whom you have not been able hitherto to refuse it.
It would be to admit that it is impossible that a careful
examination of himself and of the divine law may con-
duct a man of sense to moral views different from those
of persons who have not made such an examination ; in
a word, it would furnish evidence of a superficialness
which would not be pardoned in any other matter. I
am persuaded, that a phenomenon like the one in ques-
tion, at the very least, is worthy of the most serious at-
tention, and that no one ought to set it aside, before he
has explained it.

For ourselves, if our opinion were asked, we avow
that the madness of human pride amazes us. Man
bends under the burden of his iniquities ; horrors crowd
his bloody history ; an odor of death exhales from the
bosom of society; the life of each man is, from his own
confession, a tissue of transgressions, and, considered
with reference to the claims of God, a long and perse-
vering infidelity. Terrible assertions, none of which he
can disavow. The Son of God comes to seek him in
the depths of this appalling degradation. So long as
that dishonored creature can hear him, he calls to him,
with the word of grace ; he exhorts him to attach him-
self to him, and promises that, under his guidance, he
shall be able to stand without fear in the presence of

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 329

his Judge. One moment ! — cries the proud criminal, —
one moment ! Who hath said that I have need of
grace ; and on what ground does he come to offer me
that humihating benefit ? And my virtues, have they
been estimated ? Is it pretended that they need grace ?
Must I drag, as supphants, these noble companions of
my life, to the foot of a tribunal where crime alone
ought to appear ? If my sins have need of indulgence,
my virtues claim nothing but justice; and yet it is pre-
tended to absolve them ! Yes, it is pretended to absolve
them, unhappy one, whom pride deceives ! But what
difference will it make ? With them, or without them,
you are condemned ; midnight is about to strike ; the
bridegroom is at the door ! Is your lamp burning ? Is
your soul united to God ? Are you his by the disposi-
tions of your heart ? Can you be happy in the society
of saints, of Christ, and of God himself? This, this is
the real question, the vital question ; and in this solemn
hour, when your terrestrial dwelling is about to fall
upon your head, when a single moment only is given
you to escape, you lose it, by picking up some useless
ruins, with which you cannot live, and by which, on the
contrary, you will perish.

Sinners virtuous, sinners vicious ! hear once more
the word of the apostle, " There is no difference, for all
have sinned ; both the one and the other are deprived
of all glory before God."

But to sinners of every kind, to us all, to the whole
world, the man of God cries in the Scriptures, " God
hath concluded all in rebellion, that he may have mercy
upon all." With him there is no respect of persons, no
respect of sins ; he stops not at some shades of ditfer-
ence ; he does not apply to us our own vain measures ;

330 vinet's miscellanies.

for the original crime is equal in all ; and since he has
included all in rebellion, he includes all in mercy. La-
borers of the first, of the second, of the eleventh hour! nay
more, ye who were not laborers at all, and who, having
arrived at the fatal hour of midnight, have nothing to
offer your Master but confusion and tears, there is room
for you all in his arms. But you must throw yourselves
there ; you must seek no other aid ; you must not ex-
pose j^ourselves to the malediction of the prophet,
"Cursed be they who go down to Egypt for help!"
That is, cursed be they who, refusing to be saved by
pure grace, take refuge in the recollection of their good
works, their good will, their good intentions, or in a
false pretext, a feebleness which they could not vanquish,
or in the impious idea that God will pardon them at the
expense of his justice ! The amnesty is doubtless for
all, for all equally ; but it must be accepted just as it is
offered ; not as a right, but as a gift ; not as an abandon-
ment of the principles of the divine government, but as
the price of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, as a return for
the ransom he has paid and the pledge he has offered.
Such are the feelings with which we must come before
that offended Master, who alone has a right to regulate
and appoint the terms of the treaty which he will con-
clude with us. It would be to sanction and confirm
the first rebellion by a second, to dispute about the
terms of the treaty, to propose modifications of it, to
cavil about the clauses, say rather, not to accept it, with
all the eagerness of gratitude, and all the fervor of love.
Weigh all these things, my dear brethren, and let those
who feel internally that they are not reconciled to God,
ask themselves without delay : " Why do we hesitate to
conclude with divine justice ? Shall we persist, with-

MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 331

out a shadow of hope, in making common cause with
rebels ? Do we wish that death should surprise us in-
cluded in revolt ? Let the world insult our feebleness ;
there is no cowardice in capitulating with God. He is
mad who would sell, to a vain renown for courage, the
hopes of eternity ! Unhappy he who can spend a whole
life without loving and serving God ! We are here,
then, O Lord ; take us to thyself, take us wholly : we
would not live to ourselves, we would live only to Him
who hath loved us first, loved us with an eternal love !

THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY.

" The love of Christ constraineth us."— 2 Cor, t. 14.

A SHORT time since, one of those fugitive publications
which are intended to offer daily aliment to the public
curiosity, called the attention of its readers to a new
work, which ought, if we might believe the critic, to
alarm all the friends of pure morality. That dangerous
work develops an idea which shows how the doctrine,
and perhaps the intention of the author, is corrupted,
namely, that all the efforts of man cannot secure his
salvation, and that he can do nothing to merit it. You
will ask me what that book so severely criticized is. I
know not, for it is not even named; but it might be the
New Testament. For the New Testament also de-
clares that man is not saved by his works ; that the
gift of salvation is entirely gratuitous ; and that it is
neither of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but
God that showeth mercy. And since the gospel neither
supposes nor admits of any other means of salvation, it
clearly follows that no other means which we may at-
tempt would conduct us to that result, not even the
greatest efforts we could make to fulfil the will of God.
Such is the doctrine in all its nakedness, I was going to
say, in all its crudeness. What, then, must we do ? As
to the men who call themselves Christians, and yet cen-

THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 333

sure these doctrines, it would, perhaps, be sufficient to
reduce them to silence, by showing them that the doc-
trines they revile are the very doctrines of the gospel,
and that the church, for about eighteen centuries, has
professed and proclaimed them as fundamental truths.
But as these inconsiderate critics exhibit, besides a great
ignorance of the contents of the New Testament, a
striking want of reflection and of true philosophy, it
may be proper to examine the maxim in question, as a
simple idea, as a pure theory, in the light of reason
alone. This is what we propose to undertake ; and we
hope that the result of this investigation will show that
this doctrine is not onlv reasonable and moral, but that
it alone is reasonable, that it alone is truly moral.

And first of all, let us give a full statement of the
difficulty which is presented to us. " A doctrine," it is
said, " which teaches that we cannot merit salvation,
which denies the sufficiency, and, consequently, the ne-
cessity of good works, is directly contradictory to the
idea of morality ; for morality is the science of duty,
and in the doctrine objected to, there is no place for
duty. Moreover, this doctrine contradicts the New
Testament ; for on all its pages it enjoins good works,
while this doctrine excludes them." Let us meet this
objection. And to those who urge it upon us, let us, in
our turn, put some questions.

If there is a religious morality that is a system of
duties with reference to our Creator, must we not pos-
sess some motive to induce us to practise such duties ?
It is admitted. Can there be any other motive than
the two following, interest and devotion ?* No, it is

* By devotion, dcvoucmcnt, the author means the disinterested love of
virtue, benevolence, as some have called it. — T.

334 vinet's miscellanies.

not possible to conceive of a third. Well, then, to these
two motives correspond two systems, which we proceed
to examine.

According to the first of these systems, every man
comes into the world with perfect faculties, with obli-
gations corresponding to these, and the expectation of a
destiny suited to the manner in which he shall have
used these faculties and fulfilled these oblis^ations. Be-
tween God and him there exists a tacit contract, a re-
ciprocal obligation. Man promises obedience, and God
promises happiness. He that does good shall be recom-
pensed ; he that does evil shall be punished. This is
sufficient to make us perform all our duties.

In this first system, then, interest is the motive pro-
posed to us ; an interest, doubtless, very elevated, nay,
the greatest of all, but still an interest. But who does
not, at the first glance, see how insuflicient and defective
is such motive ? In the first place, this principle intro-
duces into morality a foreign element, we may say a
hostile element, since virtue consists essentially in self-
sacrifice. This principle does not at first manifest all
its hostility to the true spirit of morahty. But let it
work, and you will speedily see it subduing everything
to itself. It will soon teach you that it is the result
which gives to actions all their value ; that it is the net
profit or loss which determines their essential character ;
that good is no longer good in itself ; that it is good
only as it secures happiness, and that vice is no longer
vice in itself, but that it is vice only as it exposes to
calamity. Promises have only to be attached to vice,
and it will become virtue, threatenings to virtue, and it
w^ill become vice. Nevertheless, if morality is not a
vain word, virtue, separated from its hopes, must still

THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 335

be something ; and vice, separated from its dangers,
must also be something. This is not all ; for we must
not forget that we are treating of religious morality ; of
duties which have God for their object ; and that the
first of all these duties, the only duty, properly speaking,
is love. The law is not fulfilled except by love. But
interest, carried to its utmost perfection, selfishness the
most refined, can never rise to love. Under its influ-
ence a man may estimate the value of actions ; he may
make calculations with reference to the external life ;
nay more, he may give all his goods to feed the poor, and
his body to be burned ; but he can no more cause him-
self, by self-interest, to love, than he can from the col-
lision of two pieces of ice produce the slightest spark of
fire.

Disgusted with this wholly selfish morality, other
minds have dreamed of a different system. They have
absolutely excluded interest, and professed to cultivate
virtue for its own sake. " Is not virtue," say they,
" independent of the advantages it procures, worthy to
receive our homage, and occupy our thoughts ? Is it
necessary for God, who is truth, beauty, goodness su-
preme, to encourage us by promises, to frighten us by
threatenings, in order to secure our obedience ? In
serving him, we ought to blush to yield to other im-
pulses, than those which result from his perfections
themselves ?

Well, who of us will venture to say that these are not
risfht ? Who will not heartilv subscribe to this elevated
system ? But, on the other hand, who will realize it ?
This system is beautiful, it is lofty, it is true. It has
only one defect, — it is impracticable. A truce to rea-
sonings ; let us speak only of facts. Where are those

336 vinet's miscellanies.

who serve God from pure love ? Nay, where are those
who love God at all ? Let us not seek to deceive our-
selves. Those fugitive emotions, which the thought of
the Creator, or the contemplation of his marvellous
works, causes us to feel, those superficial impressions,
otherwise foreign to so many hearts, are by no means
love. If we love God only when we find our happiness
in subordinating to him our thoughts, affections, wishes,
nay more, our w^hole life ; if we love God only when
we lose our will in his ; if we love God only when
offending him appears to us the greatest, the only ca-
lamity on earth, and pleasing him the greatest, the only
felicity ; if we love God only when our heart places
between Him and creatures the same distance he places
himself, — answer, ye who hear me, who is it that loves
God ? True, the worldling quite often exclaims, I cer-
tainly love God ; nay, who does not love him ? But
nothing marks with greater clearness, the estrangement
of our heart, than the audacity of this pretension. He
who begins to love God, is the first to be alarmed at his
indifference to God. We love God ! — ah ! let us not
rashly say so. When we shall cherish for him the
tenth, the hundredth part, of the affection which we
cherish for a parent, a friend, or an earthly benefactor,
it will be time, perhaps, to say that we love him. Till
then let us be silent, and prostrate in the dust.

But if we do not love him, what becomes of that dis-
interested morality which we were right to prefer ?
What becomes of that refined system of which we were
so proud ?

It is true, that in the world, there are men who have
set out to serve God. They have acknowledged that
he had a right to be served ; they have felt internally,

THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 337

the obligation to devote to him their hfe. But in what
has that attempt terminated, except in proving that they
did not really love God ? The worldling, the frivolous
man, might tell you, with confidence, that he loves God ;
but go and ask troubled and burdened spirits, who labo-
riously and painfully drag the long chain of the precepts
of the law, go and ask them if they have that love in
their hearts. Ah ! it is not love of which they will
speak, but of fear, that is to say, of interest still. They
will tell you of the majesty of the divine law, of its in-
violability, of its threatenings. They will tell you that
their sins are a burden greater than they can bear.
They will tell you that instead of the Father they were
seeking, they have found only a master and a judge ;
that his wrath has concealed from them his goodness ;
that fear has left no place for love, and that before lov-
ing they must hope.

Mark it well ; before they love, they must hope. And
this is the method of the gospel. It remains for us to
develop it.

You have seen that interest is not worthy to serve as
a motive power to our moral conduct. You have seen,
on the other hand, that an obedience based only upon
love, has no place in the heart of the natural man.
Here, then, we experience a double embarrassment ; we
must discard interest, and produce love ; but how dis-
card interest, how produce love ? The gospel engages
to answer these two questions.

Do this and live, the majority of moralists say to us ;
so also do the Scriptures of the Old Testament. That
is to say, if we regard the spirituality, the perfection of
the law, do what is impossible, and live ; do what is im-
possible, or perish.

15

338 vinet's miscellanies.

It was necessary that such a morahty should be taught
in the world ; it was necessary, also, that God should
proclaim it in the old dispensation ; it is still necessary
that it should be preached in our days, among those
who resist the gospel ; because the blessing must be es-
timated by the want, the remedy by the evil. Those
who reject Jesus Christ must learn how far they are
from fulfilling the conditions of their existence, and how
much they need that the exigency thus created should
be met by Him who can meet all exigencies, supply all
deficiencies, in a word, by Him who only can create ;
for the thing to be accomplished is nothing less than a
creation. In this way law, or morality, " is a school-
master that leads to Christ."*

But in the case of him whom the conviction of his
guilt and impotence has led to Christ, a new order of
things commences, a new morality springs up. The
law has said, — " do these things, and live," but the lan-
guage of the gospel is, — "live, and do these things." In
the ordinary morality, obedience precedes and produces
salvation ; in that of the gospel, salvation precedes and
produces obedience.

Do you perceive that this simple transposition har-
monizes everything ? We knew not what to do with
interest, nor where to find love. Both of them find a

* The apostle Paul describes Christians as " new creatures," or, as
the original reads, " a new creation in Christ Jesus." In another pas-
sage, he speaks of them as passing " from death unto life." So that
the language of Vinet is fully justified by the word of God. Besides,
does not reason itself corroborate this view ? If man is not pure and
virtuous, he is morally dead ; in order then to live, he must be born
again, that is to say, he must receive a new moral life. He needs two
things, pardon and sanctification. The bestowment of these by the gos-
pel is surely uuthiug le.?3 than " a new creatiuu" — T.

THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 339

place in this system, but in a new order, and in a new
relation. Might I venture to say the gospel expels our
selfishness by satiating it, exhausts it by giving it every-
thing ? It effaces self as its very first act. At the
outset, and once for all, the greater part is given to in-
terest, or rather the whole is given to it, everything
that can fill the capacity of the heart of men and of
angels ; eternal life, salvation, in the highest and most
perfect sense of the word. The gospel begins by de-
claring that we are saved, not by our works, but inde-
pendently of them, nay, before our works. It relieves
us of the intolerable burden, which caused us to bend
under the obligations and terrors of the law. It gives
rest and enlargement to the heart. It restores it to lib-
erty. And of this liberty what use do we make ? It
is here the beauty of the evangelical system is seen.
Joyful over his dissipated fears, happy on account of his
deliverance, and tranquil with reference to his future
fate, but, above all, admitted to contemplate God in the
perfect manifestation of his love, confiding in God, whose
goodness knows no change ; in a word, conquered by
gratitude, he is seized with a desire to do everything
for Him who hath first loved him, and given himself for
him. " He loveth much, because he is forgiven much."
Will he neglect the law ? On the contrary, it will be-
come to him more dear and sacred. But he will ob-
serve it in another spirit, — as the law of love, as the
law of a Father and a Saviour. He will acknowledge
that it is perfect, that it is sweeter than honey, that it
restores the soul. He will delight in it after the inward
man. He will practise it, doubtless from a sense of ob-
ligation, but also from taste, from inclination, soon even
from instinct ; and he will observe it more and more, as

340 vinet's miscellanies.

it becomes dearer to his heart by the good fruits which
it brings forth. It will no longer be necessary to say to
him, In the name of your eternal interests, in the name
of the terrors of the judgment, do this and live ; be-
cause his eternal interests have been provided for, and
the sentence which condemns him has been nailed to
the cross. But it will be said to him, '• Walk in good
works, for which ye were created in Christ Jesus. Ye
are bought with a price, therefore glorify God in your
bodies, and in your spirits which are his ;" or, as the
apostle says in another place, " I beseech you, by the
mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living
sacrifice unto God, holy and acceptable, which is your
reasonable service."

Doubtless, this fulness of confidence, this victorious
assurance, is not imparted, in the same degree, to all
Christians ; and if many possess it in the first moment
of their conversion, others arrive at it only by a slow
and laborious progress, while others, all their life long,
rejoice with trembling. But observe two things par-
ticularly ; in the first place, it is certain that in the view
of all those to whom it has been given to believe in the
merciful sacrifice of the Saviour, God is love. They
know, they feel that they are loved ; they see that the
designs of God respecting them are salvation and
peace ; and this conviction which reveals to their mind
another God than is known to the world, also inspires
them with other dispositions than those of the world.
They love that God who has loved them personally and
tenderly; and thus it is that love becomes the principle
of their moral life. Secondly, the gospel, by incessantly
declaring that their works cannot save them, by impel-
ling them continually towards the idea of a gratuitous

THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 341

salvation, forever urges them towards divine love, and
forces all their thouo;hts to concentrate on that great
object, — the compassion of the Saviour. With these
persuasions, with this constant direction of the mind,
it is impossible that the life should not become a life ac-
cording to God. These Christians, then, do not form
an exception to the position we have laid down. But
this is not all.

Sincere faith is, in reality, full of hope. The indi-
vidual who firmly believes that the blood of the new
covenant has been shed for him, cannot be persuaded
that He who has enabled him to believe, hath bestowed
a gift illusory and vain. He cannot deny to himself the
faithfulness of God. And if sometimes the ineffaceable
conviction of his own unworthiness, the consideration
of that law of the flesh in his members which fights
against the law of the spirit, the view of so many de-
plorable infidelities in the bosom even of the church
may, for a moment, obscure his hope, these very things
make him recur with redoubled fervor to Him, who,
finding nothing in us to make us acceptable in his sight,
has been willing to save us through the faith which he
has given. Do not imperatively demand from that
Christian soul the triumphant assurance which the
Lord has not made the privilege of all believers. He
has it not, perhaps ; but he loves ; he has renounced all
merit; he expects nothing from himself, but everything
from his Father. I ask you, if he has not complied
with the terms of the gospel? I ask you, when he
obeys from love, without hope in himself, without mer-
cenary and sordid views, if that principle of Christian
morality, the superiority of which we have endeavored
to establish, is a strano;er to him, and if the occasional

342 vinet's miscellanies.

shadows which becloud his hope, in any measure de-
tract from the system we have developed.

True, the gospel speaks of a recompense, a reward, a
crown. Here is only one truth ; but it may have two
aspects. It is quite evident that faith produces love,
that love produces obedience, and an obedience which
makes no calculation. But it is equally true that the
works of such an obedience are good works ; that such
works lead to happiness as a necessary consequence ;
that God has not desired, and cannot desire the restora-
tion of man without the design of rendering him happy ;
and that, in this view, the gospel has been able, in God's
name, to speak of a recompense and a crown. Thus,
then, we find in the same truth, two ideas, not contra-
dictory, but correlative ; faith given as a grace, and the
fruits of faith as a recompense ; the believer not labor-
ing for a recompense, but God treating him as if he
owed him something; salvation preceding obedience,
since the cross, the means of salvation, has preceded
the works of the believer, and in another sense, that is
to say, in the order of time, obedience preceding salva-
tion, since the full enjoyment of the blessings promised
to the believer does not commence till after he has fin-
ished his work. There is, then, no contradiction, but
mutual correspondence between the diverse declara-
tions of the New Testament ; and all the passages
which it contains respecting the rewards of the faith-
ful, cannot shake its great, its vital principle, namely,
that obedience is the fruit of salvation, and that the be-
liever obeys, not that he may be saved, but because he
is already saved. Besides, what need have we to con-
firm all these ideas, when the facts utter a language so
clear ? Seek among all men who make a profession of

THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 343

Christianity, those to whom Christianity is real, vital,
efficacious, those who have received the gospel in
earnest, and apply it with fidelity in their life, and ask
them, in view of their good works, what is the principle
of these w^orks ; and there is not one of them but will
answer, I obey because I love ; I love because God has
pardoned me.

Even if the common morality, that, I mean, which
rejects the doctrine of the atonement, should succeed in
producing the same effects, the same works as the evan-
gelical morality, the latter would no less produce a strik-
ing character of superiority ; for, as a modern writer has
judiciously remarked, virtue in the one, is but the means;
in the other, it is the end. In the one, God is served as
a means of happiness ; in the other, he is adored for
himself. In the one, we cannot free ourselves from
mercenary views ; in the other, we obey only from a
pure and generous impulse. In the one, it is servile
fear; in the other, filial reverence. "Having such
promises, dearly beloved, let us perfect holiness in the
fear of the Lord." In the one, there is self-interest, and
consequently bondage ; in the other, all is love, that is
to say, freedom.

After these reflections, it will be easy for you to
appreciate the criticism which we referred to at the
beginning of this discourse. You can judge if that is
an immoral doctrine, which teaches that all our efforts
cannot secure our salvation, and that nothing can be
done to merit it. You know now that this doctrine is
that of love ; and of love in two senses at once, of a
merciful love on the part of God, of a grateful love on
the part of man. It is not a bargain, but a free cove-
nant between God who has loved us first, and us who

344 vinet's miscellanies.

love him on account of his very love. What ! is duty
less sacred to us because we love him who imposes it ?
What ! is the law the less acknowledged by us the more
we acknowledge him who has given it ? What ! do we
hate sin less, because its expiation has cost the purest
blood in the universe ? What ! shall we feel ourselves
under less obligation to obey, because we cannot esti-
mate all the immensity of the Father's love ? Is a
doctrine, which doubles the weight of all duties, the
force of all precepts, the pressure of all motives, an im-
moral doctrine ? Is it not rather, as we said at the
beginning, the best, the only good morality ?

That the grace of God may be turned into licentious-
ness we are not anxious to deny. That such an insult
to the majesty of God, the majesty of divine charity,
transcends all other baseness, every one will acknowl-
edge. On this account it must be admitted that the
greatest manifestation of the goodness of God has given
occasion to the greatest manifestation of the wickedness
of man. If God had found it necessary to prescribe the
use of no other means than such as it would have been
impossible for us to abuse, we might not have fallen so
low, that everything reveals it, or rather we might not
have fallen at all. The effects we have described we
have presented as natural, and doubtless they are such,
but not as certain in themselves ; the will of God and
the grace of his Spirit alone secure them. It is true,
then, that many have abused them, and that many will
abuse them ; but those who abuse them do so to their
destruction, while those who use them, do so to their
unspeakable benefit. The latter have reasoned well,
concluded well ; the former have made a deplorable
mistake ; and in every case what cuts off all difficulty

THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 345

is, that while a small number only have accepted and
fully understood grace, natural morality has never saved
a single person, because it cannot regenerate him ; while
the dispensation we have explained, is the only one
which has proved its efficacy to save the soul. That
which changes the heart, which causes it to be born to
a new life, which invests all obligations with a sacred
authority, and transfers a religious character even to the
slightest duties, which, in fine, elevates morality to the
region of the absolute and the perfect, is the dispensa-
tion of the gospel, and that alone. How far, then,
how infinitely far from truth and justice, are those who
charge with immorality the doctrine we exhibit.

That doctrine which has been described to us in the
nineteenth century, as a shocking paradox, is the same
as that professed by all true Christians since Jesus
Christ. It is the morality of St. Paul and of St. John, of
Fenelon and of Pascal, of Newton and of Oberlin, — it
is Christian morality. Salvation by faith is spoken of
in your churches, and you receive that expression.
Very well ! this morality is nothing else than salvation
by faith, or the recovery of the soul, by trust in the
divine compassion ; and how far will not this make the
doctrine go back into the past? Under the ancient
covenant, believers among the Jews already lived by
this faith in the gratuitous mercy of the Lord. Ascend-
ing from one generation to another, you see them all
drink of the water of this spiritual rock, which is Christ;
you see Moses prefer the reproach of Christ to all the
treasures of Egypt ; you see this divine promise throw
its pure and consoling light upon the mournful path of
our first parents going forth from the shades of Para-
dise. This is the morality for which, during four

15*

346 vinet's miscellanies.

thousand years, God prepared sick and fallen humanity ;
the morahty, whose majestic foundations, so long pre-
pared in darkness, the death of Christ has brought forth
into the light ; the morality of all future time ; in a word,
the morality of humanity, which can sustain no other.
O, if there is one among you, whom prejudices, like those
which have given rise to this discourse, still keep far
away from the gospel, we conjure him to study the
system of the gospel, and after having admired its
beauty, consistency, and harmony, let him ask himself
the question, if it is possible for man to invent it ? Let
him ask himself, if there is not here more than a system;
if there is not a fact, vast and divine, the greatest in the
entire history of the universe ? Let the cross become
to him a reality, Jesus Christ a Saviour, the gospel good
news, an authentic message from heaven ; and let him
adopt this morality, alone worthy of God, alone adapted
to our wants, and alone capable of regenerating our
souls.

NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN.

"Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye
shall not enter the kingdom of heaven." — Matt, xviii. 3.

•^-

I HAVE sought, in the preceding discourse, to render
Christianity acceptable to your reason ; I have con-
stantly attached the chain of my arguments to the im-
mutable principles of nature. I have appealed from
yourselves to yourselves. I have thus, as it were,
erected a tribunal before which the religion of Jesus
Christ has appeared to be judged. What I have done,
was, in my judgment, permitted to me. Preaching
ought always to set out from a point admitted by all, in
order to arrive at one which is not ; with men convin-
ced of the truth of Christianity, it sets out from the
declarations of the gospel itself; with those who are
not thus convinced, it must set out from a point further
back, a point which can be nothing else than some one
of those convictions which are common to all our hear-
ers, imparted by nature, or acquired by study. We
have no regret, then, at the course we have followed ;
but we acknowledge that the attitude in which we have
been forced to place Christianity, shall we venture to
say it, of being accused by you, and defended by us, is
not such as we should have preferred ; and we have
not been able to conceal from ourselves the danger both

348 vinet's miscellanies.

to you and to us, almost inseparable from such a method,
By continually invoking the testimony of your reason,
we had to fear inflating that very reason ; and on the
other hand, of giving to the Christian revelation a false
air of philosophical system and theory. We may also
have given some occasion to believe that the v^ork of
conversion to Christianity, is accomplished entirely by
human means ; that one becomes a disciple of Jesus
Christ in no other way, than he becomes a disciple of
Plato ; that in this marvellous transformation, reason
and philosophy accomplish the whole ; in a word, that
the proud thinker could make that long and important
transition from the world to Christianity, without losing
anything, or yielding anything on the way.

It is this impression which we shall now endeavor to
destroy, if we have permitted it to be formed in you.
Christianity, which has seen us patiently defending its
rights before our petty tribunal, must, from this moment,
assume the accent which becomes it, and dissipate the
illusions you may have formed touching its position and
your own. Have you thought, perhaps, that it sought
nothing but your adherence, and, too well satisfied with
having gained it, would leave you at rest, as after an
affair amicably settled between it and you ? Have you
thought, by declaring its pretensions acceptable, by
pronouncing, so to speak, its sentence of acquittal, you
had done all that it required, and that its relations to
you would continue on the same footing of equality on
which they commenced ? Assuredly you were greatly
deceived. It must, by no means, be concluded that you
are converted, because you have yielded to the hys-
torical, the moral, or the philosophical evidence, with
which it is irradiated in every part. That work, to

NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 349

take it in its true nature, is not even begun ; all that
we have said, and all that you have believed, is scarcely a
preface to it ; you have not yet read a single syllable of
the book itself. The road to the kingdom of heaven has
been pointed out to you ; but you have not entered that
kingdom. Such as you are naturally, you cannot enter
it, for, says the Master himself to you, " Except ye be
converted, and become as little children, ye shall not
enter the kingdom of heaven.''

Remember the reply of Archimedes to the tyrant of
Sicily, who grew impatient with the slowness of his
method, or the difficulty of his theorems, " There is no
royal road to science." With greater reason we may
say the same to you, respecting our subject. Chris-
tianity does not offer, does not know any privileged
road. I acknowledge, that so long as you make in-
quiry touching the truth of the Christian revelation, the
nature of these preliminary investigations is such as to
leave undisturbed the sentiment of your independence
and your dignity. This part of the route is wide ; it
has room for all your pretensions. Here you can en-
large and expatiate at your ease, and occupy it entirely
with the sumptuous array of your science. But this
road, however wide, terminates for you, and for every
one, at a gate so s^'ait and low, that far from being able
to pass it, with all your magnificence, you cannot even
enter it, except on condition of lessening yourselves,
and exchanging, so to speak, the stature of a full-grown
man, for that of a little child. " Except ye be con-
verted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter
the kingdom of heaven."

Is this the same as saying, that at the decisive mo-
ment on which depends an entrance into the kingdom

350 vinet'« miscellanies.

of heaven, man is called upon to abandon his reason, to
regard as null and void all the knowledge he has ac-
quired, and that the childhood, which is made a condi-
tion of his admission, is nothing but ignorance and
stupidity ? Those who can believe this, forget that the
New Testament everywhere supposes the contrary, and
that the Christian religion includes in itself the richest
source of intellectual development. They forget that
from the very first, it has rendered popular the loftiest
ideas ; that the apostles were not afraid to say to men
already converted, " We speak as unto wise men ;" and
that in one of the epistles is found this remarkable an-
tithesis, " Be not children in understanding ; howbeit in
malice be ye children, but in understanding be men."
1 Cor. xiv. 20. A man in reason, — a child in heart, —
such must the Christian be ; such is the disposition wdth
which every one must enter the kingdom of heaven. I
suppose you to have the first ; have you the second ?

So long as you were only examining, in the pride of
your reason, the evidences of Christianity, its records
and its testimonies, everything was allowed to you which
is allowed to full-grown men ; you were required to be
nothing else. But when, at the conclusion of these in-
dependent researches, your conviction has bound you
to the doctrine of Christ ; when by any means, you
have acquired assurance that Jesus Christ came into,
the world to save sinners, of which each of you may
well say, he is chief; when, to take a particular case,
that great thinker, that subtle genius, that learned man,
has ascertained that he has been picked up in the
highways of the world, as an abandoned child, without
protection, without clothing or food, without power to
proceed on his way, or even voice to inquire the road,

NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 351

will it become him to affect the airs of a being of im-
portance ? And will he not be bound to confess him-
self a child, let himself be treated as such, become such
in reality ?

What, then, in the eyes of God, is he whom the
world honors as a wise man ? What is he but an isr-
norant one ? What he that is strong among men, but
weakness itself? What he that is intelligent, but a fool ?
What he that is rich, but a pauper? Even if he should
have discovered new heavens, or founded an empire on
the earth, what is he in the eyes of God but a madman
who has forgotten the first of truths ; who is incapable
of spelling the first syllable of the name with which the
heavens resound, and which angels adore ; who cannot
fulfil, cannot even begin to fulfil, the first, the holiest,
and the simplest of his duties, and who with all his
knowledge of nature, estranges himself so far even from
nature, that he adores what he ought to despise, and
despises what he ought to adore !

That which a little child is, with reference to the
knowledge which such a man possesses, he is himself
with reference to the knowledge of God. But that
which a child has, he has not. The child has, for all
power, the consciousness of his feebleness ; for all sci-
ence, the consciousness of his ignorance ; for all wisdom,
the instinct which carries him towards his natural pro-
tectors. The man of the world has not this wisdom.
He wishes, unaided, to raise himself from the cradle,
where he lies in his weakness. He wishes to find the
road for himself, in a region of which he is ignorant.
He rejects the hand which is held out to sustain him,
and ever pre-occupied with his part as a full-grown
man, he will not recollect that he is only a child.

352 vinet's miscellanies.

This disposition, so natural and so common among
those who are destitute of Christian convictions, is often
seen perpetuated even among those whose reason has
been conquered by the gospel. They are ready, in their
character of full-grown men, to sign the deed which
acknowledges the gospel, but they cannot persuade
themselves to become children, that is, to become Chris-
tians. It is here they encounter the great stone of
stumblino; which their wisdom had not foreseen. It is
here they stop disconcerted, as if caught in a snare.
It was not with this prospect that they embraced Chris-
tianity. They were deceived ; they have been led fur-
ther than they wished to go ; they will not go back, that is
henceforth impossible; but neither will they go forward.

They must go forward. They must put their heart
in harmony with their intellect. Christianity is not a
system out of us, but a life within us. Christianity is a
renovation of the soul ; it is nothing less. A Christian
is not a man who has expelled from his mind one theory
to give place to another. He is a man humbled ; who
feels that he can live only upon mercy ; who adores,
who blesses that mercy ; who nourishes himself on the
promises of God as his only hope ; who continually re-
nounces himself, and devotes his life daily to the Sav-
iour. He does not live himself, but his Saviour lives in
him. And the life which he still lives in the flesh, he
lives by faith on the Son of God, who hath loved him.

It would be very agreeable, doubtless, and very flat-
tering to his self-love, to present himself to the world as
a man who, amongst all systems, had made his choice,
and is ready to furnish evidence of his good judgment,
by giving an account of the reasons which have led him
to embrace Christianity as a system eminently rational.

NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 353

But the question at issue is a very different one from
that of a mere profession. Look at a child. He not
only does not blush to acknowledge his father, but he
glories in it. It never occurs to the mind of that young
creature, that the father whom he respects, is not re-
spected by all. He places him in his estimation far
above all other men. He yields to him respect and
obedience in every place. Even in the one where his
father is obliged to take a humble attitude, he perceives
not that his father is not to every one what he is to
him ; or did he perceive it, he would be astonished and
afflicted, and say so in sufficiently decisive tones. Ask
from him who is yet only a philosophical Christian,
these testimonies, these acknowledgments, this open and
honest profession. Require him to declare, without
embarrassment and circumlocution, and in all places
equally, his exclusive trust in the blood of the new cov-
enant. Let him place himself at the foot of the cross,
humble, poor, and wretched. Let him, full of love for
his father, seized with admiration of that glorious good-
ness, feeling that nothing is great, nothing beautiful by
the side of that divine work, give free expression to the
emotions of his heart, and speak of the news of salva-
tion as news always fresh, always interesting, news to
which the attention ought to be devoted by choice, in
the midst of all other news. Ask for all this, and you
will ask in vain. He has not believed in order that he
might come to such an issue. He did not anticipate
this. In truth, you astonish him greatly.

A little child has, with reference to the relations of
society, views more philosophical than any philosopher.
To him men are men. Custom does not, in his view,
communicate to them any new quality. He loves

354 vinet's miscellanies.

them if they are good ; he loves them if they love his
father. In this respect, the Christian is a child. He
permits the relations of society to exist ; he accepts
social distinctions for temporal use ; and frequently
conforms to them, from Christian prudence ; but his
heart, internally, levels all these distinctions. Christian
love is the great leveller. He is not afraid to treat all
men as brethren ; for he sees in them the children of his
father ; and if there be any to whom his heart yields a
preference, they are those who love his father. The
differences of rank not only do not arrest his love, but
barriers more difficult to overleap, those which are
raised by difference of culture, intelligence and charac-
ter, he scales with equal ease. He has always some-
thing to say to the simple, something to learn from the
ignorant, some sympathy with characters the most di-
verse from his own. Neither weariness nor disgust
accompanies him into society thus diversified. One
great common interest brings all minds into harmony.
Here all feel themselves equally learned and ignorant,
equally foolish and wise. The differences which sub-
sist in another sphere are not remarked. They are,
with reference to the final aim of life, of but very little
importance. Wherever the Christian meets a Chris-
tian, he finds an equal. On the contrary, nothing is
more foreign to the Christian in theory. In order to
form a common bond between him and the Christian,
something more than Christianity is needed. There
must be, if not equality of rank, at least equality of cul-
ture. He has nothing to say to the unlettered Chris-
tian ; he feels ill at ease in his company ; he dreads it.
He must have similitude of views ; a difference dis-
turbs him. He cannot raise himself above the impres-

NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 355

sion which produces an opinion so Uttle rational. He
cannot abstract himself from forms, to attach himself
to principles, that is, to Christianity itself. He seeks
equals and fellows, rather than brethren.

A little child can do nothing of himself; but he ex-
pects everything from his father. He knows that he is
loved by him, and that he will refuse him nothing that
is necessary. He prays. The life of a little child is a
prayer. What reason has man to think and to act in
the same way ? But to pray, says the wise man, to
pray ! That is not natural to my heart. Everything,
indeed, which can be said of prayer, I know and hold
for truth. But in spite of that, I do not feel inclined to
it. It appears as if it w^ere something foreign to me, an
affair of another. I seem to myself so singular in prayer,
as if I were doing something learnt or copied. Had I
thought of all this, in becoming a Christian ?

A httle child believes what his father tell him. It is
his father ! Does he not know all that a child needs to
know ; and would he deceive him ? This amiable in-
stinct is the instinct of a Christian. He knows what
his father has spoken ; that is enough for him. He will
not submit to the control of human wisdom the authen-
tic communications of divine wisdom. After having
believed that the gospel is from God, he will believe
what the gospel says. The Christian in theory is fol-
lowed by the pride of reason into the enclosure at the
gates of which it ought to have stopped. He still wishes
to judge, to choose, to adapt to his use, to prescribe to
God what God ought to say, to reform the axioms of re-
vealed truth, to re- make the Bible, after having ac-
cepted it. Do you speak to him of submission ? Do
you remind him that he has promised it, and that, at

356 vinet's miscellanies.

least, he ought to leave those mysteries undisturbed,
whose inviolability he- had previously acknowledged ?
His reason, accustomed to enter everywhere, is sur-
prised that any door should be shut upon it ; he had
never estimated the extent of his engagements. He
begins to be vexed ; and feeling at once the impossi-
bility of receding or advancing, impelled by pride, re-
tained by fear, he remains immovable and inactive, on
the precise limit which separates Christianity from the
world.

The passage from knowledge to possession, from be-
lief to life, our Lord has strikingly represented by the
figure, so singular at first sight, of a return from mature
age to childhood. While in the world, the preceptor
says to the child, Come, act like a man, Jesus Christ,
our divine Teacher, says to the man. Act like a child.
Be in heart, with relation to God and your fellow-men,
what a little child is with reference to his father, and all
the persons by whom he is surrounded. The infancy
of the heart is the trait which distinguishes the Chris-
tian in fact, from the Christian in theory. But that
infancy of heart, what is it but humility ? What dis-
tinguishes a child from a man, if it is not a sort of natu-
ral humility? It is humility, then, which draws the
line of demarkation between the Christian who believes,
and the Christian who lives. It is humility, then, which
is wanting to the former, and which it remains for him
to acquire, in order to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Let us here explain ourselves thoroughly, and not
give you occasion to suppose that one virtue is more
than another the condition of salvation. Jesus Christ
has only desired us to understand, that his religion is of
such a nature, that if any one will not consent to hum-

NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 357

ble himself, he cannot be his disciple. He might equally
have said that no one can be such, unless he love. He
has said so, and his disciples have repeated it. But hu-
mility itself is a proof that one loves ; he who loves has
no difficulty in humbling himself; he who does not
humble himself, does not love. He who can see the
Son of God descend to the earth, partake of our suf-
ferings, degrade himself to the rank of a malefactor,
and drink opprobrium like water, that he, a sinner, may
enjoy eternal life in the bosom of the Father ; he who
sees this, and believes it, and still imagines that the dis-
ciple is more than his Master, and the servant more
than his Lord; he who cannot persuade himself to drink
one drop of the cup which Jesus has drained ; he who
cannot lay at the foot of the cross his frivolous preten-
sions, his independence of spirit, his confidence in him-
self, his petty glory, his vanity ; he who pretends to rest
upon a throne in the presence of Jesus bound to the
stake of infamy, unquestionably does not love. And,
on the other hand, he who is not affected by such devo-
tion, who can believe in Christ, without loving him,
whose heart does not permit itself to be caught in the
snare of mercy, he doubtless is not humbled. Princi-
ples which take each other's places by turns, love and
humility, cannot exist separately in the soul. Go down
into its depths, and you will find them united there,
blended in a single sentiment, whose different qualities
are developed together, by the same emotion, and the
same virtue.

But if reason tells us that the gospel is of such a na-
ture that we cannot receive it in deed and in truth,
without becoming children, reason can do nothing more.
It abandons us in this affair, as in others, at the point

358 vinet's miscellanies.

where the true difficulty begins. Reason is not the ef-
ficient cause of any of the emotions which spring up
within us. All that it can do is to conduct us into the
presence of facts ; then it retires, and leaves the facts
to affect and modify us. It is thus that it places us in
the presence of the fact of redemption, a fact which in-
cludes this singularity, that however well fitted it may
appear by its nature to touch our hearts, it yet meets
there the most formidable obstacles. In theory, we say
to ourselves, that in this fact everything is so combined
as to move the heart ; in practice, it would appear as if
it were only fitted to revolt it. Thus the gospel does
not ascribe to our natural faculties the power to believe
in it, and appropriate it to ourselves. " No one can be-
lieve," it says to us, " that Jesus is the Son of God, but
by the Holy Spirit;" which doubtless means, that no
one can, without the aid of the Holy Spirit, endue him-
self with the dispositions of a true disciple of Jesus
Christ. No one, to speak after the manner of our
text, can enter the kingdom of heaven, except he be
converted, and become a little child.

Hence this transformation into infancy does not even
belong to you. All that you can find in yourselves is
the conviction that, proud and independent by nature,
you must ask God to break down thai haughtiness, to
reduce you to the measure of little children, to give you
their hearts. And it is not you, learned men, and men
of genius alone, who need to ask this. Your pride does
not surpass that of other men, as your talents surpass
theirs. They too, in their mediocrity, are haughty and
proud, for they are men ; humble and modest, perhaps,
with relation to men, haughty and proud with reference
to God. Their reason makes no less pretensions than

NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 359

yours ; their dignity is not less exacting ; it costs them as
much to abase themselves, as if, like you, they had their
heads in the clouds. To be children, little children, to
walk wherever they are led, unable to quit the hand
which guides them, to depend on the divine mercy for
the supply of their daily wants, to associate with the
humble, to be seen in the company of little ones, to put
themselves on equality with the poor in spirit, — what
abasement, what disgrace ! Happy, however, they who
have accepted that disgrace, and covered themselves
with it ! The shame of earth is the glory of heaven.
If it yet shocks you, if you are not yet pleased to become
the children of God, know that, notwithstanding your
professions, you are not yet in the kingdom of heaven ;
you are on the threshold of a door open to your inspec-
tion, but forbidden to your entrance. You must beseech
God to break to pieces your pride, by giving you a lively
consciousness of your sinful state, a profound view of
your misery, an implacable hatred of yourselves, such
as sin has made vou, and a solemn conviction of your
danger. Tell him to cast you down, to put you so low
in your own esteem, that you may feel yourselves but
too happy to be born again simple children under the
paternal hand. Then, not only will the religious con-
victions you have acquired profit you, but they will no
longer be a burden, a care, an importunate thought, too
oppressive, wherever you may drag it. They will con-
stitute the foundation of your peace, the source of your
ha})piness, a life in your life, a life in your death, your
hope in time, your glory in eternity.

THE CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED.

*' Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth." — Col. iii. 2.

This precept, and a multitude of analogous declara-
tions spread through the Scriptures, are a subject of
offence to many readers. They see in them the provi-
dence of God contradicted by his word. It is God
himself that has placed us on the earth, and it is he who
wills that all our thoughts should be in heaven. It is
God who has placed us, by our bodies, our wants, and
our faculties, in a close and necessary relation with the
world ; yet it is he who wishes to bind our hearts to
eternity, by indestructible ties. It is he who admits of
no division, no compromise, and proposes to us the
choice between heaven and earth, as a choice between
life and death.

Ought it to surprise us, say superficial readers of the
New Testament, that, pressed between two opposing
necessities, we should decide, after some uncertainty,
either to throw our whole life into the future, or lose it
entirely in the present ? If some minds, slruck with the
instability of the world, hasten to flee from under the
roof of a ruinous edifice, retire into the profound soh-
tude of their own thoughts, concentrate themselves upon
a single idea, that of eternity, and renounce the activity

CLAIMS OF heavi;n and earth adjusted. 361

of social life, in order to consecrate themselves entirely
to the care of their salvation ; while others, abandoned
to the influence of external impressions, spirits fickle,
active, curious, governed by the instinct of sociability,
and the charm of life, engage, body and soul, in the
bustle of human affairs, and do not permit a single
thought to escape towards the invisible world and the
things of eternity, we once more inquire, ought we to
be astonished at it ?

Alas, no, it is not surprising. We need not be as-
tonished to see the false reason of man corrupt and
bend to its liking the simple doctrines of the gospel.
But if we embrace the whole of its teachings, we shall
really find nothing in the gospel which tends, even in
the slightest degree, to the separation or divorce of our
two lives, to the mutilation of our double nature. We
are not taught there, that God, in giving us the gospel,
intended violently to rend our nature, and to place in
competition two necessities, equally imperative. On
the contrary, we are persuaded, w^hile reading that
divine book, that God has been pleased to establish in
our life a perfect and unalterable unity, to form of the
two principles of which man is composed, a single being;
not to destroy one activity for the benefit of the other,
but to give to both one aim, and to the whole life a
single significance ; not to kill, but to regenerate man.

The anchorite of ancient times, the partially enlight-
ened believer, who, in our day, would bring back the
life of the anchorite, both misapprehend the design of
God. If Christian perfection had required their retire-
ment from this world, God would have made for them
a separate world, where the wants of tlie body, the
necessities of physical existence, and the engagements

16

362 vinet's miscellanies.

of society would never have disturbed the current of
their serene contemplations. God has not made such a
world. By invincible ties has he bound them to the
world of sense, and the relations of society. He has
compelled them to labor for their fellow-creatures, and
their fellow-creatures for them. And no less has he
demand'ed that they should labor for their salvation.

Indeed, our situation would be favorable, and our
task easy, if it were only necessary to leave society, in
order to find God ; if God did not permit us to breathe
the dust of the arena, or to hear the noise of combat ;
if we could triumph without having fought ; if religion
consisted not in overcoming temptations, but in encoun-
tering none ; if it were permitted us, in order to become
saints, to cease to be men ; and if we could cast far away
from us the noble burden of humanity, as a great orator,
in ancient times, expressed himself*

* There -was a celebrated people of antiquity, (the Spartans,) a part
of ■whom had succeeded in subjugating the other, and causing them to
accept the severest laws. The conquered and the conquerors continued
to occupy the same soil, and to form, as it were, a single people. But
the difference of their respective positions showed itself in the difference
of their employments. The conquerors aimed to arrive, as a people, at
an ideal and unexampled perfection. Consequently military exercise,
the strictest order, privations the most painful, became the foundation
of their life. None of the members of this association were permitted
to go beyond the bounds of the republic, nor was a stranger allowed to
penetrate within that sacred territory. It might be called a miUtary
monastery, subjected to the strictest rules. But as it was necessary,
after all, in the midst of this sublime discipline, to live, the vanquished
race were charged with providing for this. On them was imposed the
vulgar, but indispensable task of cultivating the earth, of exercising
trades, in a word, of supplying all the material wants, which even the
loftiest spirits cannot hinder themselves from feeling. Thus, on the one
side, improvement, on the other, labor ; on the one, intellectual and moral
life, on the other, material life and mechanical employments ; on the one,

CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 363

That the world, in its actual constitution, has its
temptations, its dangers, and its snares, we are not per-
mitted to doubt. That it is wise to shun dissipation, to
avoid even useless agitations, to seek, as much as may-
be, the repose of a retired life, there to refresh the soul,
and very frequently to enter the closet in order to ex-
amine ourselves before God, are maxims with "* which it
is important to be thoroughly penetrated. The peace-
ful uniformity of the pastoral life did not excuse Abra-
ham from seeking a place favorable to prayer, under the
shade of the oaks of Mamre. How often did our Sa-
viour himself retire to the mountain in order to elevate
his pure spirit to his Father and ours. But in the same

a polity almost become a species of religion, on the other, industry with-
out hberty, and very nearly without thought. Such was the organiza-
tion of that strange people. This state of things is a feeble image ; still
it is an image of the system we oppose. In fact, this system divides
mankind into two classes, two commimities ; the first of whom save their
souls by withdrawing from the obhgations of society, while the others
destroy their souls by submitting to them. The former seek the food
wliich endureth to Ufe eternal, the latter ruin themselves by seeking the
food that perisheth. And, finally, what is not only strange, but abomin-
able, the one class labor, at the expense of tlieir salvation, that the other
may be at liberty to secure it ; for in the end it comes to this. However
spiritual some may be, they have bodies, temporal interests, and families.
They need the products of natm-e to feed them, the products of art to
clothe them, laws to live in peace, and a government to protect them ;
and all these wants, reducing them only to strict necessity, suppose a
development of knowledge, — a mass of studies, of which it is difficult,
at first sight, to form an idea. The possession of so much of tliese gross
and absolutely necessary commodities as would be sufficient to render
the return of famine impossible, attaches itself, as all will admit, to the
highest speculations of science, and to the most ingenious inventions of
the arts. So that, since it is impossible to live without food, without
clothing and laws, it would be absolutely necessary, in the system under
consideration, tliat one part of the human family must destroy their
souls in order to secure the happiness of those which are saved.

364 vinet's miscellanies.

degree that these precautions are conformed to Chris-
tian wisdom, so is the idea chimerical, that all that we
have to do to flee from the world, is to avoid contact
with society.

Vain hope ! in the heart of deserts, and in the deepest
solitudes we may yet find the world. It is not met with
altogether in the hurry of business or in the agitations
of society. It lies in the depths of our heart. The
world consists of our passions, which solitude does not
extinguish, and to which it sometimes lends fresh
energy. All the evils and troubles of life do not come,
to borrow the expression of a great philosopher, " from
not being able to remain in our chamber." They come
from our not being able to escape from our natural
corruption ; a corruption which follows us to the
recesses of forests and of deserts, as it accompanies us
into the streets and squares of our cities ; whilst, in
the midst of the most complicated and difficult business,
in the anxiety even of high functions, the Christian finds
in his heart a solitude, a tranquil world, a retreat more
inaccessible than that of his closet, where he lives by his
soul, while his body is given to a thousand cares, where
his spirit peacefully composes itself, even when his per-
son seems to be diffused and dissipated. Many a hermit
lives in the world ; many a man of the world lives in
solitude.

To renounce the necessities of our earthly sojourn, to
regard all temporal activity as perdition, is to insult the
wisdom of God, which has imposed them upon us.
What ! could he create a world, the necessary effect
of which would be to abuse himself? What! are na-
ture, society, labor, the institutions of his providence,
so many things he has cursed ? On the contrary, is not

CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 365

the world, in the variety of its aspects and movements,
a temple, all the parts of which are destined for his
glory ? What ! do idleness, apathy, isolation, useless-
ness, alone honor him ? Far from us be such a thought!
It is not by remaining motionless in the heavens, that
the stars celebrate his greatness and power, but by re-
volving swiftly in their immense orbits ; and it is from
our activity, from the free and extensive development
of our powers, that God has been pleased to derive a
part of his glory.

There are dangers in social life ! Certainly, I believe
it ; they are such as to make us tremble. But God is
doubtless not ignorant of this ; it is not certainly for
nothing that he has promised his Holy Spirit ; or that
Jesus has said to his disciples, " In the world ye shall
have afflictions ; but be of good cheer, I have overcome
the world." Since it has pleased God to place us in
these formidable relations, can we doubt that his grace
provides for the exigencies which are his work ? To
believe otherwise, would be to call in question the good-
ness, and perhaps the justice of God.

Ties of family and of country, culture of arts and of
knowledge, industrial and social activity, ye are the in-
dispensable conditions of our existence ; ye are the road
through which we must pass ; but ye are not the end
of our being. That end is heaven. But the error lies
in confounding the road with the end, the means with
the result. The error lies in attachino; ourselves to
earth, which is the road, not to heaven, which is the end.

This distinction is conformed to our text. It does
not say, Do not occupy yourselves with the things of
the earth, but. Do not set your affections on the things
of the earth. Act as travellers who give to their busi-

366 vinet's miscellanies.

ness all requisite attention, but are in haste to return to
their native land. Act, — but for heaven ; labor, — but
for God.

Labor for God ; because it is your vocation, primi-
tive and unchangeable, your supreme duty, the first and
last end of your existence. Alas ! of all ideas, the most
absurd is the most diffused. As if we existed by our-
selves, we live for ourselves ! Creatures dependent at
every point of our existence, we have made ourselves
our own law, and our own object ! Committing sacri-
lege every day, we conceal ourselves from our Creator !
Oh ! it is this that marks, even in noble spirits, the pro-
found and general depravity of the human race. This
is the seal of our reprobation, that we have forgotten
why and for what we were sent into the world. All
evil comes from this ; and each particular sin disap-
pears in this great and primal sin. Christians ! I ad-
jure you, by your very name, — live for him who has
loved you. He had infinite rights over us as our Cre-
ator, but, by a miracle of love, he has added infinite to
infinite. He has consented that righteous blood should
flow for you. He has given up to the pangs of death,
Him, in whom his own holiness was reflected, as in the
purest mirror. At the intercession of his Son, his wrath
was turned away from you, to fall on that Son himself;
Christ became sin, that your sins might be forgotten.
And now, thanks be to him, ye may enter, creatures
degraded and defiled, race adulterous and dishonored !
ye may enter, " with everlasting joy on your heads,"
into the house of your celestial bridegroom, to adorn
yourselves anew with his glorious name, and to partake
with angels, in a destiny of honor and peace. After
this, is it necessary to say to you. Christians, labor for

CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 367

God ; attach yourselves to things above ? Ah ! if the
name you bear has not told you all this already, all the
words in the world will tell you nothing.

Work for God, set your affection on things above ;
because such an activity is the only one which offers to
your energies an employment worthy of them. By
acting only with reference to the world, what use can
you make of those powers really proportioned to them?
Whatever you do, you will always fall below your ca-
pacity, and a whole world thrown into your soul would
not fill its abyss. You may fill up your time, by attach-
ing a work to each of your hours, but would it fill up
life, thus to fill up its time ? Life ! Is it only a dimen-
sion ? Is it merely a line without breadth, a chain
which you must only take care to have unbroken ?
When every hour of a long life has been marked by an
employment or a thought, does it follow thence that
you have lived ? O immortal beings, creatures of God!
life consists in the employment of all your powers ; and
you have divine powers. Life consists in the fulfilment
of your destiny ; and your destiny is heaven ! Do not
tell me you have lived, you who have a soul to aspire
to the infinite, but which you have chained down to
finite objects ; a heart to love God, whom you have not
loved ; an intelligence to serve Him, but whom you have
not served. You have passed through life, at the side
of those who lived, but you have not lived. To live,
my brethren, is to perform a work which lasts. It is to
accumulate something more than vain recollections. It
is to convert all our present life into the future ; it is to
prepare for its death ; it is to make it in advance tri-
umphant, glorious, full of immortality. To live, is to
act on earth as a citizen of heaven.

368 vinet's miscellanies.

But at the close of our course, to be reduced to say :
I have labored, but have already received all my rec-
ompense. For a perishable work, I have received, from
the world, a perishable reward. The world has my
labor, and keeps it. I have received its pay, but I can-
not retain it ; for I am about to leave the world. I
leave it, with empty hands, with exhausted powers, with
beggared spirit, and withered heart. I leave it, but I
know not whither I am going. Alas ! why have I
lived ? What business had I to live ? Have I truly
lived ? Is it not a dream ? Was it, then, that I should
consume myself for nothing, that I was brought into
existence by my Creator ? Did I not feel something
within me, greater than everything I have yet seen,
everything I have yet felt, everything I have yet done ?
Has not my soul urged me a thousand times, to take
my flight above all sensible objects ? Yet what have I
done but to prostitute that soul to objects of sense, and
to everything which my awakened conscience, to-day,
calls vanity ? O deception, illusion, misery ! O life
lost ! O spirit abused, dissipated, degraded by vain
thoughts ! O wa-etched past, without hope for the
future !

I say nothing of the remorse which ought always to
crown a life thus lost, but which does not always crown
it. Last and painful blessing, or prelude and foretaste
of the greatest pangs, remorse, we know, does not al-
ways assist at that solemn and mournful review which
the worldling involuntarily takes of his past life, when
about to die. Upon this last and terrible subject, sup-
ply what I do not say, and which no one can say but
feebly. Represent to yourselves the busy worldling,
arriving, exhausted and panting, with the long chain of

CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 369

his miserable toils, at the foot of the eternal tribunal ;
and, penetrated with horror at the picture, you will no
longer permit us to say, but you will say yourselves. Let
us labor for God ; let us set our affections on things
above, not on things on the earth.

I am aware that some may say to iJv" We cannot
suitably care for the things of the earth, without taking
some interest in them. We cannot succeed in a situa-
tion without a certain inclination for the things of that
situation, nor in a study without a taste for it, nor in
any particular career, without loving it. Can it be be-
lieved that our interest in heaven can take the place ot
all these other interests ? Can it be supposed that the
mere sentiment of duty should supply a sufficient stimu-
lus ? Do we not, on the contrary, learn that the more
we are attached to the things of heaven, the less fitness
have we for the things of earth ? What then becomes
of that boasted harmony of which you speak ?"

The objection has weight ; and I wish no one to con-
ceal from himself its force. It is certain that if we con-
fined ourselves to contrasting two duties, that of being
occupied assiduously with the things of earth, and that
of loving only the things of heaven, we should only
augment, instead of removing, the difficulty. But with
a little attention, you will, I hope, see the objection rests
on an error. It consists in taking the words of the
apostle, "the things above," in a too spiritual sense.
The things above are not precisely those of another
world, but those of another sphere than the habitual one
of our thoughts. They are not the things above our
heads, but those which are above our natural senti-
ments. The things on high are here below, if we wish
it ; the things on high are the dispositions of a heart re-

370 vinet's miscellanies.

newed by the Spirit from above ; they are all those sen-
timents, motives, impulses, which belong to a regenera-
ted soul. To set our affection on things above, is to set
our affection on God himself; it is to subordinate our
life to him ; it is to seek and find God in everything.

And what shall hinder any of you from finding Him
in nature, the secrets of which you study with so much
perseverance ; in the functions you fulfil with so much
interest; in that art you cultivate with so much ardor?
Why ! Is not God in all that is true, beautiful, great,
useful ? Is he not in everything, except evil ? Is not
everything which is good only himself? And in culti-
vating the different domains of nature, of art, and of
civil life, is it not God himself with which the Christian
is occupied ; and in each of these things that interest
him, is it not God also whom he admires and loves ?

Loving God, then, is the secret which reconciles all.
This is the secret of being occupied, with interest, in
the things of earth, without ceasing to love the things
of heaven. To love God is to love the life he has
made, and the death he has ordained. But, ye divided
hearts, who have dreamed of a compromise between
heaven and earth, and have appeared incessantly tor-
mented with fears and scruples, now know the cause of
your condition ; ye fear God, but ye do not love him.
Piety, doubtless, also has its scruples ; but let us take
care not to confound the scruples of a delicate love,
which is afraid of not giving everything to its object,
with the apprehensions of a selfish heart, which is des-
titute of the courage to do one of two things, either to
give itself wholly to God, or wholly to the world. " Is
this permitted ; is this not permitted ? Is this worldly ;
is this Christian ? Mav we see such society, form such

CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 371

an enterprise, devote ourselves to such study ?" This,
in the mouth of a son, signifies, How shall I keep my
heart for my father ? But, in the mouth of a slave.
How far can I follow the desires of my heart, without
irritating my master ? Miserable and vain discussions,
the principle of which it is easy to discover. What is
this perpetual bargaining between man and God ? What
sort of a Christian is he who is perpetually occupied in
minutely adjusting God's part and his own, and ever
filled with the dread of making his own too little ? What
sort of a believer is he who pretends to divide himself
into two, the worldling and the believer, as if there was
no absolute necessity that the worldling should be alto-
gether a worldling, and the believer altogether a be-
liever ? What kind of a man is he who has two hearts,
the one for the world, the other for God ? What kind
of devotion is that which makes its own conditions,
which keeps its reserved rights, which stipulates its in-
demnities ? O, love is a better casuist. Love has
speedily cut the difficulty ; everything for God, nothing
for self, is its motto. Everything for God, provided
God is mine. Then let him enrich or impoverish my
life, let him extend or limit my activity, let him gratify
or oppose my tastes ; if I have my God, I have all things
at once. It is him I wish to serve, him I wish to please ;
the rest is a matter of indifference.

If you love God, you will easily and at once see what
employments are incompatible with his service. The
love of God will endow you with a new sense, with a
sure and delicate tact, by means of which you will
recognize without difficulty, the works which please,
and those that displease him; for all kinds of activity
are not good. This is the first effect of the love of

372 vinet's miscellanies.

God. There is another. It gives to the soul very-
great freedom. It renders legitimate a multitude of
works, which could not be such without it. If you love
God, you can enter into the bustle of the world, into
the business of public life, into the culture of the arts
and sciences ; for all this you do for the glory of God,
with gratitude and submission ; all this leads you to
God, instead of taking you far from Him ; and, if I may
say so, your courses which, in appearance, are the most
adventurous, never remove you far from port. The
most elevated functions, and lowest offices, the greatest
enterprises, and the most petty details, the work of a
year, and the work of an hour, all are done for the Lord ;
consequently, all are permitted, all are good. But be-
yond this sphere, and without this direction, all is bad,
even that which generally passes for legitimate and
praiseworthy ; all is bad, for God is not in it. You can
still be useful, merit and obtain esteem ; but with refer-
ence to God, to yourselves, to eternity, you have done
a work, vain, ungrateful, and wretched.

Ill-instructed casuists, whose delicacy " strains out
the gnat, and swallows the camel," abandon, abandon
the idle scruples which attach to some isolated actions,
to some particular details of your life, and at once bring
into question your entire life. It is of that life as a
whole, of its general character, of the spirit which ani-
mates it, which it concerns you, before all, to form an
estimate. It is not some good works, it is not a facti-
tious virtue, laboriously studied, and laboriously imi-
tated, which will prepare you for heaven. It is not
upon this or that observance neglected or performed,
upon such an action permitted or forbidden, or in itself
indifferent, that the chances of your eternity will turn.

CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 373

Doubtless each of your actions has its moral value, its
character, its color ; but each, also, is but the natural
product of a principle, and in this respect has a charac-
ter which, rather than its own, represents your moral
value. It is this internal value which you must know ;
it is this also which God knows, and according to which
he will appreciate and judge you. Do you know the
standard by which he will do this ? He will measure
you by your love to him. He will inquire only about
one thing, Are you his, by your heart ? But his stand-
ard ought to be yours ; and in this question, — Am I
acting for God ; is it my desire to do his will ? — ought
all your casuistry to be contained.

See then, what wind fills your sails, and you will
know whither you are going. Demand of yourselves
an account of the sentiment which controls vour life,
and you will know what it is worth. Every one is able
upon this point to give a precise answer ; besides, here
are two tests, the application of which will leave you no
further uncertainty.

In the midst of the occupations and the cares which
necessarily bind you to the earth, do you love to occupy
yourselves with the things of heaven ? Have you a
relish for the word of God ? Are you pleased to con-
sult it, to elevate, by its means, the point of view from
which you regard all your affairs, to stretch, as it
were, over the limited horizon of your terrestrial life,
the boundless horizon of eternity ? Many, when they
involuntarily bring these two views together, find no
relation, no harmony between them, but rather, a sort
of contrariety. The aspect of heaven, -and of divine
things, disturbs them in their labors ; it deranges and dis-
enchants them ; it vexes and oppresses them. They

374 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

could wish they had never cast their eyes in that direc-
tion ; for that of which the}- had a glimpse has made
them fear, for a moment, that their life, w^iich hitherto
appeared filled up so well, is, in fact, filled up with van-
ity. Thenceforward, they shun this view, and these
reflections ; and, in order to protect their labors from
such painful control, plunge themselves wholly in the
present. In proportion as that vision of divine things is
weakened and effaced, they speedily resume their former
ardor ; but they are not active and persevering in the
things of their profession, except on condition of caring
as little as possible for their heavenly vocation. And yet
they do not profess to renounce that heavenly vocation.
They are entirely satisfied to have in reserve an asylum
and place of repose ; resembling in this the prodigal
son, wandering in the highways of the world, it pleases
them now and then to think of their Father's house, but
not to dwell there. They are pleased to believe ; they
would dread to lose their religious conviction; but they
dread still more to see it become too strong. They
fear those unexpected moments, brought on by God
himself, when the truth of religion suddenly appears all
radiant with evidence, and all powerful with reality.
They dread that tyranny of a living faith which would
overturn their life, disconcert their plans, give another
course to their activity, and destroy the position they
have assumed in the world. Frightened at that light-
ning, they hasten to shut their eyes, and, by a strange
contradiction, dread both scepticism and their faith.
Brethren, do such people labor for the earth, or for
heaven?

I have spoken of another touchstone. It is the
thought of death. Let any one who doubts as to the

CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 375

legitimacy of his efforts, and the employment of his life,
place himself in the presence of death. Let him, with
closed eyes, consider his last hour, that hour, when, as
it has been said with propriety, " There remains nothing
with us, but what we have given." Let him for a mo-
ment feel, that he no longer belongs to the earth, that
he lies upon his funeral bed, that he listens to that sol-
emn warning, " Son of man, return, give an account of
thy stewardship." Let him say to himself, that in a
few hours, lying under the ground, he will be as much
a stranger to what occurs six feet above him, as if he
had never formed a part in the number of the living.
Let him see vanishing and becoming extinct, the splen-
dor of renown, and the power of reputation, his personal
influence, his property, his name and his memory ; and
proceeding to his last inventory, let him take account
of what remains to him, that is, I repeat it, of what he
has given. Well, has this activity, these labors and
services, this fortune, or this poverty, been given, as it
might be wished, wholly to God ? Has he performed
works which can follow him ? Can he take with him
into the other world, and lay down at the feet of his
Master, all his labors, all his studies, all his life ? Was
it for God that he used his position, fulfilled his
charge, cultivated his mind, increased his fortune ? On
which side was his life, apparent in the world, or hid
with Christ in God ? Is he about to be separated from
everything, or is he about to find everything ? Is he
going to die, or is he going to live ? If in the pres-
ence of this solemn thought of death, he does not feel his
past life a burden, which oppresses him, but as wealth
which supports him ; if the thought of the activity
which is about to be interrupted does not inspire him

376 vinet's miscellanies.

with regret, but with hope, then that activity is good ;
he may yield himself to it without fear ; for, in occupy-
ing himself with the things of earth, he labors for those
of heaven.

This, my brethren, is what we would impress upon
your mind, and upon our own. No truth is more im-
portant. A moment will infallibly come, when it will
appear evident to us ; but we ought to anticipate that
moment ; for the same truth which is salutary to-day,
may be overwhelming to-morrow. Salutary while life
yet belongs to us, overwhelming when that life is
leaving us. If, then, our life needs to be reformed,
let us reform it ; that is to say, let us reform our
hearts, "For out of the heart proceed the springs of
life."

Reform our hearts ! what an expression, my brethren !
Ah ! when the dead in their tombs shall be heard cry-
ing out. We live, it will be permitted to sinful men also,
to cry out, We reform our hearts. To love God above
all other things, to love nothing but in subordination to
Him, to submit our life to a single principle, and our
conduct to a single impulse, can this be done by a sim-
ple act of our will ? Upon this point let us consult our
own experience. It declares to us our profound inca-
pacity to displace, by ourselves, the centre of our life.
Consult the experience of believers. They inform us,
that it is by faith in a crucified, glorified Saviour, that
they have found the power to do it. Consult the New
Testament. It teaches us that in this great work, " it
is God that produces in us the will and the execution,
according to his good pleasure." Let us not seek to
deceive ourselves ; let us not boast some external re-
forms, of which we have found ourselves capable ; the

CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 377

reformation of our habits is nothing, without the refor-
mation of our heart. Let us frankly acknowledge our
weakness ; let us ask, let us entreat, let us pray without
ceasing, till assistance come, till our heart is altogether
where our treasure is ; till we are one in thought and
affection with Jesus, till we have, in our life, but one
aim, the service and glory of the Father who sent him.
May the Lord shed upon us all his spirit of grace and
supplication !

THE PURSUIT OF HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATI-
BLE WITH FAITH.

'* How can ye believe, who receive honor one of another, and seek not the honor
which Cometh from God only."— John v. 44.

Glory ! how beautiful is that word ! How many
hearts it has caused to leap! Is there one who, in
all possible cases, can hear it or utter it, without emo-
tion ! Primitive and indestructible tendency of human
nature, the love of glory lives in all hearts, is found in
all conditions, occupies a place in all enterprises, and
may be compared to that wind, loved by mariners, with-
out which the oar and the paddle would in vain fatigue
a waveless sea.

Ask honest men, endeavor to reach the bottom of
consciences more concealed, you will learn what power
the presence, the expectation, the name even of glory
exert over all those who are animated apparently by
other motives. In the efforts of the patriot, the devo-
tion of the hero, the perseverance of the philanthropist,
the ardor of the philosopher, nay more, in the specula-
tions of the man of business, the love of glory has almost
always a place, and very often the first place.

" What !" exclaims that poor and obscure artisan, his
brow all covered with the sweat of labor, " what ! I pre-
tend to glory ! You may assure yourself I never cared

HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 379

for it." Yes, perhaps, when obhged to devote yourself
entirely to the care of your subsistence, you had no
thought but for the first necessities of life. Then that
indestructible love of glory slept in your bosom. But
the first wants appeased, how prompt it will be to aw^ake !
Do not deceive yourself What is called glory among
heroes, politicians, and men of genius, will, under
another name, become one of your principal motives of
action. What are the pleasures you expect from that
money which your industry accumulates ? Ease, do
you say, security, material advantages ? It may be so,
but to be honest, you still count among these the plea-
sure of passing for a rich man, and of securing that kind
of consideration which is not easily refused to wealth.
This, then, is glory.

There is in every soul an imperious want, a violent
desire to add to its individual hfe, a foreign life, if I may
say so, a life beyond itself, the seat of which is in the
opinions of others. To be praised, admired, or at least,
esteemed, is the secret desire of every human being
whom misery does not compel to degrade himself to a
lower ambition, and whom a profound degradation has
not rendered insensible to the opinion of his fellows.
We have, indeed, already within ourselves a judge, who
is very indulgent with reference to our qualities and
conduct ; but this judge does not suffice us. It appears
that, irresistibly driven to the sentiment of our nothing-
ness, and dreading to be compelled some day to unde-
ceive ourselves, we feel the necessity of appealing to
other men to aid our self-love, and of deriving from
them an additional life, which we find not in ourselves.
So true is it that this pursuit is derived from a con-
sciousness of our weakness, that of all men, he who

380 vinet's miscellanies.

should seem the proudest, would be a man to whom,
upon this point, his own opinion was sufficient.

Do not, then, deceive yourselves. Rich or poor, high
or low, we all love glory. This craving for the esteem
of others follows us as our shadow. It glides with us
everywhere. Chased away under one form, it repro-
duces itself in another. From retreat to retreat, from
corner to corner, it eagerly pursues its timid enemy,
humility. Does she think she has escaped from it, she
lifts up her eyes and finds it before her. The love of
glory can find a place even in the tears and mortifying
confessions of penitence. It secretly animates the voice
of the moralist who thunders against glory ; and some-
times, alas, it accompanies into the pulpit the preacher
who condemns it.

We cannot deny, that, in a certain degree, the esteem
of others ought to be a real want of each individual.
In the first place, the privation of this esteem would
divest us of a greater part of the advantages attached to
the social state. What credit is to a merchant, good rep-
utation is, in the same degree, to every member of society.
In the second place, without some mutual good-will,
society would not be supportable, and good-will is
inseparably connected with esteem. Besides, pubhc
confidence is the first condition of the good we desire
to do. To be refused this confidence, would paralyze
our best intentions. It is necessary, then, to obtain and
to keep it. All this explains and justifies the natural
sentiment which causes us to place a good reputation
in the number, and even in the first rank, of temporal
blessings. Under these various relations, it has a right
to the same care which we give to our health ; it has a
right to such care, more especially because it not only

HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 381

bears upon our own welfare, but upon that of our family.
I go even further ; I acknowledge that, in the absence
of Christianity, the love of esteem is one of the best
things which can be met with in fallen man. In the
absence of an object worthy of our homage, it is an
indirect homage to those moral ideas of which society
cannot divest itself, and is the best of those social ele-
ments which keep men united. But how different from
this necessary care of a temporal blessing, for which we
ought to give thanks to God, as for all others, is that
pursuit of glory, from which we see issuing two very
clearly marked characteristics. The first, that of mak-
ing the esteem of men the rule of our actions. The
second, of seeking, in addition to a good reputation, praise,
fame, celebrity. This is what our text condemns ; the
praise of men as an end of our actions, their approba-
tion preferred to that of God, the glory which comes
from men eagerly desired, the glory which comes from
God neglected.

Remark particularly that my text does not only say,
ye love to receive glory from one another ; it also adds,
ye seek not the glory which cometh from God alone.
The glory, then, which comes from God only is a thing
to be sought after. The following words of Jesus serve
as a supplement to those which he uttered on another
occasion : " There is no one who hath forsaken house,
or brother, or sister, or father, or mother, or children,
for my sake and the gospel's, who shall not in the pres-
ent time receive an hundred fold." (Mark x. 29, 30.)
In like manner, there is no one who, for the love of
Jesus Christ, has renounced human glory, who shall not
receive an hundred fold from Him who required the sac-
rifice. In the kingdom of God, then, there is no sacrifice

382 vinet's miscellanies.

without compensation, and the compensations of God
are infinite. In our souls, there is no want he will not
satisfy, but in his own way ; that is to say, by giving
us, instead of the gross aliment which our deluded hun-
ger seeks, a purer aliment, which it knows not. We
were born for glory. Well, he invites us to seek it. The
same invitation is abundantly reproduced in the gospel.
There, glory is represented as an object worthy of our
pursuit, as the final recompense of our toils, as the price
of the blood of Jesus Christ. The blessings of heaven
are offered to those " who, by persevering in good works,
seek honor, glory, and immortality."

Here, it is no longer man that praises man ; it is no
longer the wretched flattering the wretched ; it is the
human soul satisfying itself with true glory in the bosom
of the God of glory. It is the Christian, expecting and
obtaining from the mouth of the only witness whose re-
gard he seeks, these noble and precious words, " Well
done, good and faithful servant ; thou hast been faithful
over a few things ; I will advance thee to many things."
This is the glory which ought to be desired, which ought
to be the end of life, — a glory we cannot dispense with
without crime. It is the glory which cometh from God
alone.

But as to human glory, Jesus Christ is so far from
authorizing the pursuit of it, that he declares it incom-
patible with Christian faith. "How can ye believe,"
says he, " who love to receive glory one from another,
and seek not the glory that cometh from God alone."

Indeed, this love of human glory is one of the princi-
pal quicksands of Christian faith. We can more easily
and much sooner vanquish all other obstacles. When
the soul, oppressed by the consciousness of its sins, and

HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 383

anxious respecting its future destiny, turns in the direc-
tion of religion, it meets, on its way, numerous enemies
of its salvation. Proud reason is there objecting to the
obscurity of the Christian doctrines, and urging it to re-
ject what it cannot comprehend. Indolence dissuades
it from the conquest of a kingdom, " which is taken by
force, and of which only the violent take possession ;"
and sensuality makes it afraid of a chaste and austere
life. But when all these perfidious counsellors have been
successively driven away, human glory, more dangerous
still, and more certain to be heard, presents itself

If to believe were merely to recognize as true, certain
facts and doctrines of the gospel ; if faith were only an
act of the mind, in which the heart had no part, it
would doubtless be impossible to see how the desire of
human glory could hinder us from believing. But to
believe in Jesus Christ is another thing ; it is to re-
ceive, to choose, to embrace him, with all those quali-
ties which are ascribed to him in the gospel. It is to
submit to him in our heart, our will, our life ; in a word,
it is to become the subject, the servant of this divine
Master. But there is a disposition of soul in which,
though the mind is subdued, the heart is yet undecided
and rebellious. We desire to believe, and cannot ; or
rather we believe, and do not believe. As to convic-
tion, indeed, we are within the exact terms of the gos-
pel, but we are not within the gospel itself We pos-
sess it as a treasure of which we have not the key, with
which we can do nothing, and upon which we cannot
live. " We have a name to live, but are dead."

I believe it important to insist on this singular state
of the soul, because it is common and little noticed.
There are among us, perhaps, few sceptics, properly

384 vinet's miscellanies.

speaking, who account to themselves for then' scepti-
cism. But there are among us many persons whose
intellects believe, whose hearts doubt. Surprised them-
selves at the discordance which they observe between
their opinions and their feelings, they seek for the cause,
and cannot imagine it. If they had searched thoroughly,
they would have discovered it in the illicit retention
and guilty cherishing of an idol which they had not the
courage to sacrifice. Ordinarily it is some unhappy
bias which strikes their Christianity with paralysis and
death ; some forbidden thing, obstinately kept in their
tent, which has caused the curse to rest upon it. This
is the secret of so many half-conversions, of so much
defective Christianity. This explains the character of
those men who, according to the remarkable expression of
the apostle, " are ever learning, but never coming to the
knowledge of the truth." It is said that when a mighty ship
is on the point of being launched into the sea, when all is
ready, when the last blow of the axe has caused the last
support to fall, the spectators are often surprised to see the
noble vessel remain immovable on its smooth base ; the
curious eye seeks everywhere for the mysterious cause
of this immobility ; and in a short time a mere pebble is
discovered under its keel, which resists the whole force
of that colossal ship. Do you, then, from whom the se-
cret of your delay and irresolution on the way to truth
has been concealed, search well, and in some unseen
recess of the soul, you will perceive some favorite incli-
nation, some inveterate habit, some passion ashamed to
show itself, which, in its obscure retreat, opposes the
generous launch which bears you towards the Saviour.
Let us apply this general observation to human glory,
and set forth a truth, which presents itself in the very

HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 385

commencement of the subject. The moral law is a law
of perfection ; this every one will admit without diffi-
culty. But in order that the pursuit of glory should
not prevent us from keeping this law, it is necessary
that the being from whom we expect glory, should be
perfect in disposition, principle and action. If he is not,
he will not require from us perfection in return for his
approbation, or as a pledge of it ; for you may be sure
he will not put his admiration and praise at a price so
high. But more than this, he will with difficulty per-
mit himself to be surpassed. Perfection, nay^ the very
tendency to perfection, will offend his jealous eyes. He
will deny the necessity of this tendency, or rather he
will deny the reality of it in your heart ; he will mis-
represent your intentions ; he will call good evil, and
candor hypocrisy. What I say upon this point, I do
not say of this or that individual, or of any one in par-
ticular ; for it would be absurd to pretend that no man
would consent to find his superior in another ; admira-
tion and enthusiasm are tacitly involved in the confes-
sion of inferiority. I speak of the world in general, of
its tendencies and its maxims. I compare its morality
with that of the law of perfection ; and I see that it is
separated from it by an abyss. I recognize that in all
times the tendency to perfection has cost those who
have frankly avowed it, either repose or fortune, lionor,
or even life. Whence I conclude that he who desires
the glory which comes from the world, must descend to
the standard of the world, by espousing its maxims, or
at least taking care not to profess, I do not say oppo-
site, but only loftier maxims. That we may leave
nothing equivocal in this subject, let us reply to those,
who cite the universal enthusiasm excited by generous

17

386 vinet's miscellanies.

actions, and the spontaneous acclamations which greet
the appearance of a great character, that there is noth-
ing in such facts which contradicts what we have ad-
vanced. That man has not lost the power of admiring
moral beauty ; that the poetry of virtue has a charm to
him ; that such bright flashes dazzle him ; that even in
the person of an adversary or an enemy, certain traits
of veracity, fidelity, self-sacrifice and mercy, irresistibly
seize upon his heart, — who could or would deny ? But
I have spoken of the law ; of the law which embraces
all these virtues, but which includes them under the no-
tion of obedience ; of the law, which is to all such oc-
casional manifestations what the liarht is to the liojht-
ning ; of the law fulfilled, but not absorbed by love ; of
the law or system according to which man does not
rise alone, choose his own virtues, consult his own na-
ture, take his own impressions for a guide or seek his
own glory ; of a law in which he subordinates himself
to rule, loses sight of himself before the rule, and re-
tains, in the freedom of love, all the submission of fear,
and in an intelligent fidelity, all the scrupulousness of
blind obedience. Perfection is here, and nowhere else.
It would not even be found in the practice of all the
virtues, if these virtues were not united in one bundle
by the tie of obedience. But is this the law of the
world ? Has the world received it ? Can the world
endure it ? And if it is not in its nature either to re-
ceive or endure it, does it reserve its suffi-ages and its
applause for those who have made it their law ? And
the question is not, whether in the depths of the human
conscience, this perfect virtue may not, in its principles,
receive a silent homage ; whether many persons do not
internally, and so to speak, unconsciously decree the

HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 387

first rank to that virtue which they know not how to
obey, but ever wish to obey. This I beheve ; but whence
comes the applause of the world ? For whom does it
prepare crowns ? For whom does it raise thrones ?
And, to present the same question in another form ; il
one who obeys the perfect law obtains its homage, on
what ground does he obtain it ? To what part of his
being and his life is it addressed ? Is it not to that
which may be insulated and detached from the funda-
mental principle of his conduct ? Is it not the natural
man that they admire in him ? Has the supernatural
man, the new man, the man of God and of the law, any
share in that homage ? You know as well as I ; you
perceive without difficulty, that here the exception con-
firms the rule ; and you will conclude w^ith me, that to
secure the glory which comes from men, he must lend
himself to their maxims, and proportion himself to
their measure ; that he must not surpass, that is, humble
those, from w^hom he expects glory ; and, on the other
hand, in order to be perfect, that he must seek the re-
gard, and be ambitious of the approbation, of a perfect
being.

Let us now descend from these general ideas to ap-
plication and details.

How can the soul, which prefers the glory which
comes from men to that which comes from God only,
believe in Jesus with a real and efficacious faith ? He
has been compelled to acknowledge Jesus as the Son
of God ; but the world refuses him that august title.
Since the appearance of that divine Prince of human-
ity, the world has heaped opprobrium upon the adorers
of Jesus. An external and formal adherence to him
has been permitted in consideration of circumstances ;

388 vinet's miscellanies.

but earnest and efficient faith has generally been ex-
posed to derision. Is it, then, easy for him who values
the opinion of men, to confess that divine Saviour,
still spit upon and scourged as in the Praetorium, still
crucified as in Golgotha ? And must he not, in order
to lie prostrate at his feet, have bid adieu forever to the
esteem and approbation of that crowd which reject
him ?

" He that says he believes in Jesus Christ, ought to
live even as Jesus Christ lived." But how did he live ?
In a manner so different from received opinions, that it
may be said that his religion is quite opposed to that of
the world. For the world has its religion, wherein all
the passions of the flesh are elevated into divinities.
Here is pride ; but we are to follow the steps of him
who was meek and lowly in heart : here is sensuality ;
but we are to conform our spirit to his who had not
where to lay his head : here is independence ; yet we
are to resemble him who came into the world to serve,
not to be served : here is selfishness, yet we are to be
clothed with the dispositions of him who gave his life for
his friends. In a word, we must embrace a life, some
of whose virtues please the world, because they are of
use to it, but the general character of which wounds
and condemns it. How can all this be done by him
who cleaves to the approbation of the world ?

How, for example, shall he use his Christian liberty,
who is afraid that this liberty may pass for presumption
and arrogance ? How shall he conform his life and his
manners to evangelical simplicity, who dreads to hear
himself taxed with parsimony and meanness ? How
shall he persevere in the exercise of Christian devotion,
who dreads to see falling upon his family and upon him-

HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 389

self, some of those insulting epithets which ignorance
and envy pour upon piety ? A thousand considerations
of this kind form themselves around him like a net,
which binds and imprisons him. At every step he
wishes to take, he is held back by some new fear ;
vexed, he surveys from the place he dares not quit, the
course he ought to pursue ; amidst a thousand emotions
unceasingly repressed, and of repentings which exhaust
the soul, he arrives at the tomb without ever having
known the joyous liberty of faith.

And even if we did not risk a departure from the
path of virtue, while following the attraction of human
glory, such a pursuit would not be less incompatible with
the spirit of the gospel. In fact there is, according to
the gospel, but one rule of our conduct, the will of God ;
one glory to seek, the glory that comes from God. But
suppose we prefer to that glory the glory that comes
from men, and content ourselves with making common
cause with them ; we invade the eternal rights of God,
so firmly established in the gospel, by impiously erecting
the tribunal of man at the side of, and even above, the
tribunal of God.

The God of the gospel, my brethren, is a jealous
God ; he is a God who will suffer no division, either in
adoration or obedience. To seek our law anywhere
but in him, is to renounce our Lawgiver; to seek glory
anywhere else is to renounce our Judge. And surely
he must hold himself honored by the rivals we give
him ! Worms of the earth, creatures of a day, poor
sinners, etjualled in our esteem, mingled in our homage
with the eternal Jehovah, King of immensity, Sovereign
of hearts, adorable Source of all holiness ! The fickle
judgment of a feeble intelligence preferred to the infal-

390 vinet's miscellanies.

lible judgment of the God of truth ! Glory asked of
shame, shame cast upon glory ! For there is not even
equality here ; the creature is not equalized to the Cre-
ator ; it is placed above him. From the very moment
that the comparison is conceived, the outrage is con-
summated, the Creator is degraded below the creature ;
because in such an approximation, to hesitate is already
to choose.

And who could imagine to what glory we immolate
the rights of our Creator ! If it were a splendid exam-
ple, if it were the suffrages of all people, and of every
age, we should not be less culpable ; yet such a thing
might be conceived. But we do not seek so high for
pretexts to insult God. On the contrary, we descend
exceedingly low, to the very dust, to solicit praise. It
is to the false tongue of a neighbor, to the smiling flat-
tery of a wit, to the condescension of some earthly
grandee, to the fear of ridicule, to the false customs of
society, to some transitory fashion, to the pleasure of
making a little stir in the circle of our acquaintances,
that we wantonly abandon the dignity of the govern-
ment of God, and the honor of his name. Behold the
glory of man which we prefer to the glory of God !
Certainly, my brethren, it would be difficut to enlarge
upon this subject, without a profound contempt of
ourselves.

Conclude, then, that the pursuit of human glory, by
hindering us from believing in Jesus Christ, or what is
the same thing, from applying that faith, is incompatible
with Christianity.

There is only one kind of approbation which can be
sought without danger ; in heaven, that of God, on
earth, that of the saints. And we must not seek even

HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 391

the latter, except as a manifestation of the divine ap-
probation. In general, the reproofs of the just are of
more value than their praises. Let us not forget those
beautiful words of David, " Let the righteous smite me,
it shall be a favor ; let him reprove me, it shall be to
me an excellent balm." (Ps. cxli. 5.) He has not
spoken thus of the praises of the righteous. ^

And let none oppose to us such passages as the fol-
lowing, " Whatsoever things are of good report, think
of." (Phil. iv. 8.) " Be careful to do that which is
good, not only before the Lord, but before men." (2 Cor.
viii. 21.) These passages, the true meaning of which
is established by the general spirit of the gospel, are
authoritatively explained in those precious Words of the
Master, " Let your light so shine before men, that others,
seeing your good works, may glorify your Father in
heaven." Here, not the creature, but the Creator is
to be glorified. And the esteem of men is presented to
the Christian, not as his aim, nor even as his encourage-
ment. Let all the glory return to God, and then let
him " give us of his own." Let God glorify us, if he
deems it best. Such, upon this matter, is the sentiment
of the true Christian. Our doctrine, then, remains en-
tire. The pursuit of human glory is incompatible with
the profession of the Christian. He ought to be ambi-
tious only of the glory that comes from God.

Brethren, if our object were not to induce you to
conform to a precept, and to follow a counsel, but to
acknowledge a truth, you have already heard enough.
You do not need arguments to convince you that the
approbation of God is alone worthy of being sought.
For this purpose, you have only, in thought, to pass the
limits of time, and transport yourselves to the last

392 vinet's miscellanies.

day, and the tribunal of God. There you will see the
value of human opinion. The glory of the world, for-
merly so dazzling in your eyes, will appear to you like
one of those deceitful fires which rise from the marshes,
and owe their pale rays only to the thick darkness of
the night. That renown which, it is said, ought to pass
through an ages, and levy a perpetual tribute of admira-
tion from posterity, will appear to you no more than the
puerile chimera of a vain-glorious delirium. The infinite
value you have attached to the opinion of your compan-
ions in trial, will appear to you an inexpressibly ridicu-
lous blunder. Your immortal glory, as you are pleased
to call the celebrity of a day, will be dissipated and ab-
sorbed in a glory truly immortal, the glory of God and
of saints. You will there feel, — God forbid that it should
be with bitter regret, — that these simple words of your
heavenly Father, " Well done, good servant, thou hast
been faithful over a few things," will dim the lustre of
those pompous terms with which you have filled your
panegyrics, wherein you have audaciously stolen the
titles of the Creator to decorate a creature. " Well
done, good servant, thou hast been faithful over a few
things !" Who on earth contents himself with such
a slight praise ? But in heaven, and from the mouth of
Jehovah, such praise is of immense value ; and never
did adulation the most extravagant, enthusiasm the most
intoxicating, fill him, who was the object of it, with a
transport comparable to that with which these simple
words can fill the glorified believer.

This, my brethren, is what you may say to yourselves.
You may further say, that even on earth, the triumphs
of self-love are vain and miserable ; that they do not fill
the heart ; that they can only deepen more and more

HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 393

the immense and devouring void ; that the first effect of
a triumph is to produce the desire for another ; that
changes of opinion are excessive and cruel ; and that
he is a fool who places his happiness at the mercy of
that fickle and inconsistent opinion. You will say to
yourselves that, when the craving for esteem and ap-
plause seizes upon a soul, it permits nothing good to
subsist along with it ; that there is no longer room for
love in a heart which glory fills ; that nothing withers
the soul like this dangerous passion ; and that it steals
from us the purest pleasures and the noblest emotions
of which the soul is susceptible.

I repeat it, then, that, if to be conformed to truth it
were only necessary to know it, you might rely upon
yourselves for the success of this discourse. But ex-
perience has proved to you the contrary. There are a
thousand truths that have subdued your intellect, with-
out controlling your life. Know, then, that this work
is not yours, and that you will never save yourselves.
Ah ! you feel it, perhaps. To renounce the esteem of
the world, to cease making it an end and a rule, and to
seek only the approbation of God, is a miracle which
belongs only to God to work in you, and which it is
your privilege to ask of him. May you, then, may we
all, ask it of him, with sincerity, earnestness, and per-
severance. May we see forming in our hearts a holy
tranquillity, with reference to the judgments of men.
Freed from the heavy chains of opinion, may we feel
ourselves free to believe, to love, to obey, till the day
comes, when, delivered forever from that importunate
vision of human glory, we shall rejoice in the rays of a
true glory, in the bosom of our God and of his Christ.

17*

POWER OF THE FEEBLE.^

"There are many members, but only one body. The eye cannot say to the hand,
I have no need of thee ; nor the head to the feet, I have no need of you. Nay,
those members which seem to be the feeblest, are the most necessary." — 1 Cor.
xii. 20-22.

" The kingdom of heaven cometh not with observa-
tion." It was by these words, and many others hke
them, that Jesus Christ tm'ned the attention of the Jews,
from their accustomed prospect of glory, splendor, and
power, to that of the gospel, composed as it is of far
different aspects. But the friend of the simple and the
meek, the God of the poor in spirit, the Prince of the
little and the feeble, could not make himself understood
by a multitude of carnal Israelites, carried away by false
greatness. The same thing happens in our days ; his
humility conceals him from our proud hearts. We vol-
untarily make a selection in his gospel, leaving to him
the lowHness he has chosen, and taking to ourselves the
loftiness he has disdained. And here I do not speak
only of external pomp, of which it is easy to see the
nothingness, but of the splendor of certain spiritual
gifts which distinguish a Christian, without the aid of
external circumstances, and may appear to us worthy
of our ambition. But it is not ambition, whatever fine

* Preached on the anniversary of the day of Pentecost.

POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 395

name it may assume, which is favored by the gospel ;
and we find the proof of this, in the passage in which
St. Paul contrasts the various gifts which the Spirit of
God had just shed upon the church, " There are many
members, but only one body. And the eye cannot say
to the hand, I have no need of thee ; nor the head to
the feet, I have no need of you. Nay, those members
of the body which appear the feeblest, are the most
necessary."

The day of Pentecost was, even to the carnal eye, a
very great day. The mighty rushing wind, the tongues
of fire, the miraculous gifts suddenly distributed among
the apostles, and that extraordinary energy which made
them new men, were doubtless all wonderful. Never-
theless, the festival of the Holy Spirit includes still
greater things ; and the gospel, which to-day recounts
to us the effusion of these splendid gifts, authorizes us,
by the voice of St. Paul, to proclaim the superiority of
some other gifts more obscure and inconsiderable in
appearance, of which the Holy vSpirit is equally the
author. This is what we propose to do, to-day, while
explaining these closing words of the apostle, " the mem-
bers of the body which appear the feeblest, are yet the
most necessary."

The Greek word rendered feeble, in our versions of
the Bible, does not, in this place, signify feebleness, pro-
perly speaking, but inferiority. The more feeble mem-
bers, are those less remarkable, or less distinguished.
Besides, if the same word is used to designate two dif-
ferent ideas, it is because they have some relation to
each other, at least in the vulgar opinion. It is so com-
mon, when one possesses power, to exhibit it, and even
to make a parade of it. that n life, obscure, concealed,

396 vinet's miscellanies.

modest, almost always suggests the idea of timidity and
feebleness. If this opinion is often well founded in the
world, it is not so in the church ; and it is the church
which is referred to in my text. This body is the
church, these members are the members of the church,
and the more feeble are those who have received the
less splendid and apparently less elevated gifts of the
Holy Spirit. Such are the feeble members which Paul
represents as the most necessary. But as the apostle
has spoken, in the whole chapter, of the gifts of the
Holy Spirit, since it is with reference to these, that he
distinguishes the members of the church as strong and
feeble, we believe that we may present the idea of the
apostle in this form. The gifts of the Holy Spirit, which
are the most feeble, are also the most necessary.

The gifts of the first rank, I mean the more splendid
gifts, are of two kinds. Those that are supernatural,
such as speaking in unknown tongues, curing diseases,
predicting the future ; secondly, those that are natural,
some of which relate to the heart, such as triumphant
joy, a faith changed, as it were, to sight, a kind of an-
ticipation of the privileges of the celestial city ; while
others relate to the intellect, as the gift of teaching and
convincing, a persuasive eloquence, profound knowl-
edge of the Scriptures, and generally all those talents
which can be applied to the service of religion. Such
are the gifts of the first order ; but, in the present day,
we cannot accurately distinguish, in such an enumera-
tion, those natural talents of the mind from those pecu-
liar sentiments which grace has produced in a Christian
soul.

In the train of these gifts, to speak after the manner
of the apostle, come the gifts that are more feeble.

POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 397

These are humility, by which a believer abases himself
before God, and regards others as more excellent than
himself; fidelity which will not be unjust in the smallest,
any more than in the greatest things ; purity of man-
ners and of thought, which keeps undefiled the temple
where the Holy Spirit deigns to dwell ; truth which
would not, for the greatest bribe, open its lips to the
slightest falsehood ; contentment, which bears all losses
without a murmur, because its real treasure cannot be
taken from it ; activity, which remembers that the king-
dom of God consists not in words, but in deeds; charity,
in fine, but not charity factitious, borrowed, learnt by
heart, but a true love, a tenderness of soul, which alter^
nately pities and consoles, soothes and beseeches ; which
cannot revile or despise ; which bears all things, excuses
all things ; which rejoices not in iniquity, but rejoices
in the truth.

Would you not, my brethren, regard him as supremely
happy who had received from the goodness of God all
these gifts united ? Well, one may possess them all,
without making any noise in the world. A multitude
of persons may have this assemblage of gifts truly di-
vine, without being remarked, without being suspected.
And in what caverns, you will ask me, in what deserts
are these excellent persons concealed ? In what deserts ?
In your cities, in your villages, in the midst of yourselves,
to whom they hold relations of business and of friend-
ship ; in the world, where they have, so to speak, a pro-
fession, a post of duties. If you cannot discover them,
look to yourselves ! You have the eye of flesh that
sees their bodies, the eye of self-love which sees de-
fects ; you have not the spiritual eye which seeks com-
placently in every soul, not vices and imperfections, but

39S vinet's miscellanies.

the glorious and delightful traces of the presence of the
divine Spirit. And how otherwise could you perceive
such persons ? They have neither the vanity which
pushes itself forward, nor the talent which, willing, or
unwilling, compels belief. Let me speak plainly upon
this point. Persons advanced in spiritual attainments
often deceive themselves. Involuntarily they seek
splendor and power ; and nothing, in the sphere to
which they belong, reveals to them either the one or
the other. That faithful soul I have described to you,
cannot perhaps give an account of his thoughts ; he is
scarcely conscious of his state ; he has the appearance
of seeking long after that which he has found ; he ap-
pears behind those whom he really precedes. His faith
is not always a well-connected system ; it has many de-
ficiencies, many apparent inconsistencies ; faithful in
principle, he errs sometimes in form. That very joy
which seems inseparable from Christianity, does not ap-
pear very perceptible either in his aspect or in his dis-
course. That enthusiasm which kindles on the counte-
nance of some, is foreign to his character, frightens per-
haps his timid humility. In a word, his life is one " hid
with God," which God only knows, and which God only
appreciates.

But these obscure gifts are the ones which Paul ex-
alts in my text, and proclaims as the most necessary.
This is true, in the first place, with reference to the in-
dividual who possesses them. What is the great point
at issue for him ? What is his supreme interest ? It
is the re-establishment in him of the divine image ; it is
regeneration ; for regeneration is salvation. Well, that
regeneration consists entirely in the obscure or feeble
gifts of which we have spoken. The other gifts which

POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 399

God may confer upon a soul are, to speak justly, divine
favors, by which he would make known his munificence ;
they are the splendors which he scatters here and there,
as he judges necessary, special privileges, which serve
to indicate, even on earth, to what glory a regenerated
soul may attain in heaven. But it is not on this condi-
tion alone that he is regenerated and saved. Nor is
there all the difference which might be thought between
the more splendid and the more obscure gifts. When
the sun sheds his beneficent rays upon our globe, he
penetrates at once into palaces and cottages; but in
palaces his beams are reflected from crystal and gold ;
in cottages, they fall upon tarnished surfaces which give
back no reflection ; — no matter, in the cottage as well
as in the palace, he diffuses heat and life. In the hum-
ble retreat of the poor, as well as in the mansion of roy-
alty, what has penetrated is equally the star of day,
the king of the heavens, and the soul of nature. So,
also, in the case of the obscure Christian, it is truly the
Holy Spirit that dwells within him. If that Spirit does
not reveal himself there with as much splendor, he
dwells with no less entireness, and with all his essential
characteristics. That which distinguishes a Christian
is not precisely enthusiasm and ardor, still less talent
and eloquence ; but humble faith, the faith which knows
how to wait, humility, and especially love. With these
gifts, he has passed from death to life : what needs he

more ?

More ? Ah ! God has doubtless shown his wisdom in
rarely according more. Danger is attached to all ele-
vation, from which spiritual elevation is not expected.
Internal gifts are those particularly, which, incorporated
with our being, appear to form a part of ourselves.

400 vinet's miscellanies.

We too easily forget that we possess them by grace,
and that it is absurd to glorify ourselves on account of
what we have received. Pride, which ferments secretlv
in the recesses of our soul, takes occasion to gain entire
possession of it. Hence burning fervors and extraor-
dinary talents have often been seen opening a passage
to spiritual pride, which, like all other pride, goes before
destruction. This danger is so real and so great, that
our Lord frequently takes occasion to bring some
internal humiliation upon those whom, without this,
their privileges would elevate too high. St. Paul,
without explaining himself further, tells us " of a thorn
in the flesh," which doubtless reminded him of his former
misery, and preserved him from being elated with pride.
And to how many distinguished Christians has God
shown himself on purpose sparing of some grace, the
possession of which would have made their glory too
complete, and their position too perilous ? How many
Christians have found, in the necessity of struggling
with some obstinate bias, or in the presence of some
irresistible doubt, a counterpoise to that presumption
which naturally springs from the consciousness of power !
By which we may judge how wise is that precept of
the great apostle, " Seek not high things, but walk with
the humble."

These obscure and feeble gifts are also the most
necessary to the church. All the graces of God, splen-
did or obscure, have benefited the church ; but God
having multiplied feeble Christians, and distributed more
sparingly those that are strong, has by this sufficiently
indicated the importance he attaches to the former. If,
in the primitive church, he granted extraordinary gifts
to believers generally, it was only in a certain measure,

POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 401

and for a time. In general, he has appeared disposed
to humble power, reserving triumphs for weakness.
" He has chosen the foolish things of the world to con-
found the wise, and feeble things to confound the strong,
things vile and despised, yea, things that are not to
bring to naught things that are." He has brought into
competition riches and poverty, wisdom and ignorance,
philosophy and rusticity : but poverty, rusticity, and
ignorance have conquered. From time to time he has
called to his aid genius and power, and permitted them
to co-operate in his work ; but when he has so willed
it, the sling of the young son of Jesse has sufficed to
overthrow Goliath. The smallness of the means has
only served to enhance the power of him who employed
them. In all time, the church has been sufficient to the
church, truth has been sufficient to truth. Eloquence
and enthusiasm have not done so much for this sacred
cause as the modest virtues, the uniform activity, and
the patient prayers of thousands of believers whose
names are unknown.

The consideration of the great movements which
have been accomplished in the bosom of the church,
have led some persons to a different judgment. A Paul,
an Augustine, and a Luther were certainly not feeble
members of the church. Such men, or rather such
powers, have been ordained of God, in the course of
time, to prepare the soil of the church for a glorious
harvest, to open to the Christian life a favorable and
more extensive sphere. And God forbid that we should
fail to recognize the importance of these grand manifes-
tations ! But the reign of God on earth is nothing else
than his reign in each of the souls which compose the
church. And if the prosperity of the church has for

402 vinet's miscellanies.

its measure the number and reality of individual con-
versions, if God is more honored in the profound emo-
tions of souls subdued by grace, than by the public and
solemn proclamation of the doctrines of revealed reli-
gion, let us acknowledge as a truth, that the feeble mem-
bers of the church contribute much more, proportionally,
to the reign of God, than the pov^erful members of whom
we have spoken.

As to the latter, it seems to us that admiration very
generally excuses us from imitation. Appearing at
intervals, such men do not come into contact with us
all. In this respect, their writings and their memory
but imperfectly replace their life ; for it is by feeble
things, by ordinary and familiar details, that they could
make upon us a deep impression. Life alone could
have acted upon life. But isolated from us by circum-
stances, by their very greatness, by their fame, they
can exert upon us only an indirect and general influ-
ence, doubtless favorable and salutary, but going no
further than simply disposing us to observe and study
the feeble members of that flock, of which we must
form a part in order to be the children of God. These
latter models appear more within our reach, although
their gifts may not be in reality either less precious or
less divine than those of the first class of Christians.
We feel that nothing can excuse us from their posses-
sion ; that nothing can supply their place ; that while
we may be neither wise, nor eloquent, nor rapt by re-
ligious ecstacy, to the third heavens, we must be holy ;
that this is the natural vocation of every soul, and the
design of God respecting us all. This holiness, propor-
tioned to our measure, and adapted to a sphere of activity
which does not transcend our own, attracts us by its

POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 403

simplicity, while it strikes us by its beauty. Mys^
terious in its origin, wonderful in its nature, nay, mirac-
ulous, if we consider the changes it produces, but not
the less human, attainable, and practicable, it is the
prose of the kingdom of heaven, which each is bound to
speak. Yes, these lives, habitually • imbued with the
spirit of Christianity, of a single and even tenor, of a
strict consistency, of a solemn unity, of a sweet serenity,
of an indefatigable and tranquil activity, of a zeal which
does much, and says little, — lives, whose Christian
character appears as much more incontestable as en-
thusiasm takes a place inferior to that of charity, are
what accomplish the most for the cause of Christ.
These constitute the salutary contagion which is per-
petually acting in the church, which has kept, through
the most disastrous times, so many hearts for the Lord,
and, in more favored epochs, multiplied them abun-
dantly.

These observations sufficiently prove that sincere
and humble piety is the greatest of forces, and that the
more feeble members of the church are the most neces-
sary to its establishment and its conquests. It is not more
difficult to prove that these are the members which are
the most necessary to civil society. This is to add
the last feature of their character; for we ought not to
lose sight of the fact, that the Christian is a citizen,
and that everything he has received from above, has
been given him to be used in society. We have distin-
guished two kinds of striking superiority, the one relating
to the heart, the other to the intellect. As to the first,
it has sometimes produced very great effects, but rather
in the bosom of the church itself, and in our spiritual
relations, than in the relations of ordinary life. As to the

404 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

second, which consists in mental gifts, it is beneficial
only when it is animated and sanctified by the spirit of
piety. But what is necessary to society is this very
piety. The domain of piety is not confined within the
circle of its meditations, to the inner life, and religious
worship ; piety is profitable for all things, is applicable
to all things. But we go further, and say, piety is the
only principle of the life of states, and the only remedy
of diseased society. Behold, with all its array of human
virtues and brilliant talents, what an aspect society pre-
sents. Raise vourselves a little higher than the limited
circle of your domestic relations, though you may find
even in these relations, in one way or another, the proof
of what I advance ; contemplate that vast horizon of
society, listen to that frightful tumult of all the passions
unchained, plunge into the heart, and into the remotest
recesses of that gloomy labyrinth ; in a word, for a few
moments contemplate the world. Of course, you have
not the scrutinizing glance of Him who searcheth the
heart and the reins ; you cannot go to the bottom of
that revolting sink of iniquity, which hes concealed in

the heart ! My brethren, we cannot see the glory of

God till we die ; can we then, without dying, contem-
plate human iniquity ? But you have seen the surface ;
that is enough. Judge now, if the finest talents are
capable of establishing harmony in that chaos, peace in
that tumult. Judge, also, if the presence of a small
number of men, full of Christian joy and enthusiastic
fervor, and for that very reason, unintelligible to the
mass, could exert over it a sensible influence. O the
true leaven in that mass is the humble, tranquil, ob-
scure, active virtue of the thousands of the faithful,
diffused through all the recesses of society, struggling

POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 405

by their example and their prayers against the general
depravity, and causing their light to shine before men
so sweetly, as, at least, to attract some souls. It is such,
that the Lord has cast as seed into the world, a grain of
which will produce, in some twenty, in others thirty,
and in others a hundred fold. These are the first fruits
of that great harvest, which is ripening in the field of
the world, and which, we have the assurance, will one
day cover with its fruits the entire face of the earth.

That day is not yet come ; and the circumstances
which are to bring it develop themselves slowly.
Everything in the world moves more rapidly than the
progress of that kingdom of love and peace. What im-
provements are to be made before man will deign to
care for the improvement of his soul ! Is it not strange,
to see him making sure of everything except his salva-
tion ; restoring everything except his conscience ; spec-
ulating on everything except eternity ? Admirable
age, to which nothing is wanting, but the one thing
needful ! Political society is settling itself on new
foundations, the rights of man are secured, and therein
I rejoice ; but in the midst of this development of arts
and opulence, I seek for the Holy Spirit, that spirit of
moderation, of disinterestedness, and of purity, — where
is it ? Science, literature, public instruction extend
their domain ; culture difTuses itself into all the places,
and amid all the conditions from which it was banished ;
intelligence is everywhere honored, and therein I cer-
tainly rejoice ; but amid these triumphs of human
thought, I seek for the Holy Spirit, the spirit of humil-
ity, of piety, and of charity ; — where is it ? Ah, my
brethren, it is still necessary that this divine Consoler
should console all, that this power should subdue all,

406 vinet's miscellanies.

that this Hfe should animate all. Strive by prayer for
the advent of that glorious day; contend for Jesus
Christ, who has contended for you ; supplicate with
fervor that his kingdom may come ; pray that " at his
name every knee may bow, and every tongue confess,
that he is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Ask
not for the extraordinary gifts which he shed upon the
apostles in their day, but pray that the Holy Spirit of
God may multiply among you the number of those
feeble members, that is, of those humble and faithful
Christians, who are the power and hope of the church.
Let all of us together ask it from the Father of lights ;
and beseech him to add to the church, even on this day,
some souls that may be saved.

THE INTOIEMNCE OP THE GOSPEL.

"He that is not with me is against me."— Matt. xii. 30.

These words were uttered by Jesus Christ, after the
performance of one of his most splendid miracles. The
Pharisees pretending that he had performed it by the
power of the devil, Jesus Christ showed them that it
was absurd to suppose that the devil would aid in the
establishment of a religion altogether opposed to his in-
terests. Is Satan, said he, divided against himself?
Then, rejecting such an idea, our Saviour added, that
if Satan was not his accomplice, as the Pharisees sup-
posed, it followed that he was his adversary. And why ?
Because, with reference to Jesus Christ, it is absolutely
necessary to be one thing or another. Every one who
is not with him, is, for the same reason, against him.

Thus Jesus Christ took occasion from a particular
fact, to proclaim a great truth, one which is doubtless
found diflused through the whole gospel, and results
from the general spirit of the Christian system, but
which had not yet received an expression so precise and
solemn. It is this declaration of our Lord that will oc-
cupy our attention to-day. Our design is to develop
the evidences of its truth ; but it is necessary, first of
all, to explain its principal terms.

408 VINEt's iMISCELLANIES.

Who is the man that is against Jesus Christ ? It
must be sufficiently obvious to all, that by this expres-
sion, our Saviour designs every man to whom the gos-
pel is an object of aversion and hatred, whether he con-
ceal his sentiments in his heart, or manifest them in his
words and actions. Who, then, is the man that is not
with or for Jesus Christ ? We do not need to collect
the features of such an one, by means of our imagina-
tion. The world is full of persons who are not for
Jesus Christ. We recognize them in all those members
of the Christian church who belong to it only by birth,
and by certain external usages, but whose whole life
proves that the church inspires them with no interest.
They have accepted a religion as one accepts a coun-
try, not by free choice, but by necessity. Christians by
birth, they are not such by affection. Having examined
neither the proofs which establish the truth of Christi-
anity, nor the objections by which it is assailed, they
believe on the faith of others. They have some gen-
eral notions of the doctrines of revelation, and have ad-
mitted them once for all, without ever thinking of them
again. In a word, religion is to them a matter of high
propriety, an interesting fact, a social necessity, but
nothing more. It is neither the rule of their life, nor
one of their interests. They aid neither by their
prayers, nor their efforts, in the advancement of the
kingdom of God. They do not inform themselves
whether it advances or recedes. Everything has more
importance to them than the success of that great cause.
Such are the principal features of the characters of the
indifferent.

Now what says the Saviour with reference to these
men ? " They that are not for me are against me."

THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 409

We do not know a better way of establishing the truth
of this, than by showing the falseness of the contrary
proposition, namely, " One may not be for Jesus, and
yet not be against him ; he may be neither his friend
nor his enemy ; he may observe, with respect to him, a
species of neutrality." Let us see if such neutrahty is
possible.

I observe, in the first place, that a real neutrality is
one of the rarest things in the world. Man is not made
for indifference ; undoubtedly he may feel neither love
nor hatred for things which are completely foreign to
him, and to which no circumstance directs his atten-
tion. But whatever affects him nearly, everything
which exerts an influence upon his fortune, nay more,
everything which he sees exciting general interest, be-
comes to him an object of some kind of sentiment. His
tastes may change, but like a pendulum, he oscillates
perpetually from affection to aversion, and from aver-
sion to affection, without ever stopping in the interme-
diate space. His soul being made for feeling, and feel-
ing being his life, he is, so to speak, constrained to love
or hate, and to flee from indifference as a kind of death.
Each of us, by reflecting upon himself and consulting
his recollections, will recognize this disposition without
difficulty. This fact, then, will be sufficient to put us
on our guard against the notion, that we may not he for
Jesus Christ, and yet not be against him.

But if the observation we have just made be true in
general, it is especially so in the domain of religion. A
religion is an opinion and a system ; but what distin-
guishes it from all opinions and systems is, that it pro-
fesses to be the work of God, and " all in all" to man.
Any religion which should lay claim to less would belie

18

410 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

itself, and be unworthy of the name of rehgion. If a
rehgion is true, it follows that we ought to love it with
all our heart ; if false, to detest it with all our heart ;
for the question turns upon a matter of the highest ex-
cellence, or a criminal imposture ; a work of God, or a
work of the devil ; a thing adapted to destroy, or to
save our souls. Is neutrality, in such a case, possible ?
Can we remain, without any sentiment, in the presence
of a fact, overpowering, absorbing, which unceasingly
solicits a decision ? Is it not here that indifference
must find its limit ?

But I go further, and say, if we had even remained
indifferent, w^e would not the less have made, without
willing it, a choice. Because true religion, meriting
nothing less than our whole love, not to devote our-
selves to it is to be against it ; and a false religion, not
deserving anything but our deepest hatred, not to op-
pose it is to be for it. Here, any middle course is im-
possible. The indifferent person will hear false religion
on the one side say to him. Since you are not against
me, you are for me ; and on the other side, true religion
cry to him. Since you are not for me, you are against me.

And to make this last truth more evident, suppose
that God manifest in the flesh has descended to the
earth, in the person of a being resembling you ; that the
character of that being is the ideal of perfection ; his
work, the salvation of the human race ; his precepts,
holiness itself ; his feelings in reference to you, a bound-
less compassion. You acknowledge in him all these
attributes, and you say to him, Since thou art the ideal
of perfection, the rule of holiness, God himself manifest
in the flesh ; since thou hast shed thy blood upon the
cross for the salvation of my soul, I cannot be against

THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 411

thee, but I will not be for thee. And for whom, then,
great God, for whom, then, is that heart ! for it is neces-
sary to be for some one ; the heart must attach itself to
something ; it does not live but as it loves. For whom,
then, will you be, if not for God ? Probably for your-
selves, I suppose. But what is that you, separated from
God, except the flesh in all its corruption, and sin in all
its deformity ? And if a man is for such things, is he
not against God ? If he is for his own depraved will,
is he not against God ? If he is for a demon, is he not
against God ? No, my brethren, there are in the world
only two empires, which I need not name ; but I affirm
that he who is not in the one, is necessarily in the other ;
that he who is not with Jesus Christ, is against Jesus
Christ. Behold the neutrality of the indifferent !

The better to appreciate this neutrality, let us enter
the heart of the indifferent, and give account of the
feelings which reign there. He says he has no hatred.
Let us pass it over. This hatred we shall soon meet
again. But are there in his heart love and obedience ;
love especially for Jesus Christ ? Assuredly not, seeing
he is not for Jesus Christ. Well, to refuse love to Jesus
Christ, I affirm, is to do him all the evil which an open
enemy could, or, at least, would do. If Jesus Christ
had come into the world, as a king into a revolted prov-
ince, in order to extinguish rebellion, and cause the
silence of terror to reign in it, he might be satisfied with
a trembling submission, and care nothing for the evil we
do him. But such a submission he did not desire, nor
can desire. That alone which he desired, that alone for
which he descended to the earth, the end to which he
directed all his toils, was the conquest of our heart.
Separate from that triumph, every other is nothing to

412 VINET*S MISCELLANIES.

him. If, then, instead of our hearts which he demands,
we contemptuously offer him a passive submission
which he does not ask ; if, in the place of that devout
gratitude which he has merited by his blood, we propose,
as a matter of favor, to spare him our insults, would not
this of itself be the crudest of insults, the only .one,
indeed, to which he could be sensible ? For what is
our hatred in his eyes but the more clear and frank ex-
pression of the divorce which exists between him and
us ; a somewhat more distinct form given to the out-
rage which our ingratitude constantly presents before
his eyes ? But perhaps you consider it a more serious
thing to attack and oppose him. Indeed, you are mis-
taken ! For what could your miserable attacks add to
the crime of your ingratitude ? Ah ! since you have
the misfortune not to love him, attack, combat, make
war upon him, as you please. The Almighty will do
well to be moved by the rebellion of an insect ! Agi-
tate yourselves, then ; struggle in your dust ; raise an
entire world, if you can, against the King of worlds ;
you will not retard for a single instant, nor drive back
a hair's breadth the progress of the eternal counsels ; not
that Jehovah will notice your ridiculous efforts because
he sees all things ; but because he has seen, before all>
that you do not love him, a fact which ranks you with
his enemies.

We have spoken of love, and what shall we say of
obedience ? Is there obedience in the indifferent ? No,
doubtless ; for he who loves not, obeys not. It is true
that a servile fear may fulfil some external duties, and
produce a formal obedience ; but the gospel requires a
spiritual obedience, which is not possible without love.
To subdue his passions, to use the world as not abus-

THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 413

ing it, to live in all humility and charity, to consecrate
all his powers to the advancement of the kingdom of
God, is what the indifferent will not do, what he cannot
do ; he lives, then, in disobedience. But I ask you,
how would that man be regarded in a state, who would
not obey its laws ? Certainly as an enemy ; even if he
had never taken up arms against it. Is not a rebellious
subject an enemy ? How% then, shall he be considered,
who cares no more for the spiritual laws of Jesus
Christ, than if Jesus Christ had never given them ?
Certainly as an enemy. Whence it follows that he who
is not for Jesus Christ is, for the same reason, against
him.

But, we will not content ourselves with having shown
that in principle the indifferent is a real enemy of Jesus
Christ. We will show vou further that, when circum-
stances will it, he becomes an enemy positively, and in
fact. What, in reality, is this indifference, but a secret
aversion to Christ and his doctrine, as we have already
seen, a discord between the soul and Jesus, a slumber-
ing enmity ? As long as it is not excited by circum-
stances, it remains asleep, it has no consciousness of
itself, it does not feel that it hates ; and in some persons,
it remains in this form, the most dangerous perhaps, all
their life long. But in many others, unforeseen circum-
stances awaken it, and cause it to appear in its real
character. Sometimes it is a clearer view of the truth
by which it is awakened. That truth from which they
turned away their eyes, by-and-by strikes them with
unexpected vividness ; they see at once that the gospel
is a serious reality, and that they are about to accept or
reject it. They call up the whole period during which
they have sinned without reflection ; they feel, above

414 vinet's miscellanies.

all, that they have a heart which cannot relish the strict
maxims and spiritual savor of the gospel, and perceive
the moment they treat it seriously, they must change
their whole life. Then its renunciations, privations,
sacrifices, present themselves in a crowd ; indignation
penetrates their soul ; but instead of directing it against
themselves, whose conduct condemns the law, they di-
rect it against the law which condemns their conduct.
Thenceforward they can never speak of neutrality or
indifference ; the veil is torn away, the wound is made,
the hatred is aroused. Ever after they are directly
against Jesus Christ.

Sometimes, also, the transition of enmity to its true
form has been occasioned by the religious revival of
those around them. Persons have found themselves in
the situations we have just described ; the truth has
pierced them with an unexpected wound ; but after a
moment of indecision, their indignation, which knew
not what to fasten upon, has turned against themselves.
In the necessity of hating either themselves, or the gos-
pel, they have preferred to hate themselves. And from
hatred of themselves, they have naturally passed to the
love of Jesus Christ. Then regenerated b}^ the Spirit
from on high, they have lived a new life ; and notwith-
standing their humility and reserve, there is so much
difference even externally, in living for the world, and
living for God, that the change has struck their neigh-
bors. Their life has become a Hving gospel. The
indifferent and neutral have then read the gospel, not in
dead characters upon inanimate leaves, but in living
letters in the hearts of men. This has formed, if I may
so express myself, a new edition of the word of God,
with the commentary of the Holy Spirit. Then the

THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 415

same struggle has been produced in the hearts of the
indifferent we have already described, the evidence of
the gospel, the divinity of Christ, and the infinite solem-
nity of life, have burst upon their vision, and over-
whelmed their soul. Then have they found it no longer
possible to shut themselves up in a system of cold neu-
trality. The soul, too strongly pressed, has been com-
pelled to take a part, — alas ! it has taken its part, and
that is to hate ! But in spite of appearances, its posi-
tion is not essentially changed ; it has the same aversion
to the gospel, only with a more vivid consciousness, and
a deeper feeling ; and we can only say that in this is
verified the prediction of the aged Simeon, who, when
holding the infant Jesus in his arms, exclaimed, " By
thee shall the thoughts of many hearts be revealed."

To hate Jesus Christ, such is the result in which neu-
trality and indifference eventually terminate. To hate
Jesus Christ ! what words are we compelled to utter !
The most confirmed sceptic would not have himself
considered as one who hates Jesus Christ. But this
sentiment which horrifies the sceptic, is, ye indifferent
ones, the habitual sentiment of your soul !

But that you may know at least what you do by
hating Jesus Christ, come and see. That teacher, full
of grace and truth, who went everywhere sowing the
word of reconciliation ; that compassionate physician
whom no wretch approached Avithout being consoled ;
that friend, who sought to gather you to himself before
impending calamity, as a hen gathereth her brood under
her wings, is the being whom you hate ; that model of
purity and charity, that man in whom his most furious
enemies could not discover the shadow of a stain, is he
whom you hate ; that celestial hero, who, bearing on

416 vinet's miscellanies.

his conscience the guilt of humanity, sunk, in the gar-
den of Gethsemane, under the burden of the sins of the
whole earth, and drained for you the cup of divine
wrath, as he lay prostrate in the dust, bathed in sweat
and blood, is he whom you hate ; that victim, who for
you painfully climbed up the height of Calvary, permit-
ted himself to be fastened to the cross, and suffered, in
his person, all that imagination can conceive of agonies,
and whose last groan was a prayer for his executioners,
is he whom you hate ! Do not reject this statement.
If you are nothing for him who has been everything for
you ; if you do not give one pulsation of your heart for
him who has given up his life for you ; if your life is a
perpetual resistance of his laws, you are his enemies ;
if you love him not, you hate him ; and if you do not
yet fight against him, you will fight against him soon.

I have arrived at the close of a painful demonstration,
which I did not undertake, I ought to confess, without
repugnance. But knowing too well the condition I
have described, fully persuaded for a long time that he
that is not with Christ is against him, I have felt it my
duty to point out to my brethren the dangers of a neu-
trality in regard to which many perhaps deceive them-
selves. I would, therefore, say to them after the exam-
ple of Joshua, "Choose ye this day whom ye will serve."
Those have chosen, who, with slow and laborious step,
but without irresolution, have commenced their march
towards the land of infinite discoveries ; who not yet
possessing the whole truth, seek it with sincerity and
patience; who, solicited by the flesh and the world,
turn with a sigh to God, who can aid them, and who,
every day, offer to the Saviour their good- will, not being
able to offer him anything else. May God preserve us

THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 417

from discouraging any one, and " crushing," as the poet
says, " the new-born germ, from which may spring an
angel !" But there are others who have not chosen,
and care not to choose. Some of them persuade them-
selves that, provided they are neither for nor against
Jesus Christ, he, in like manner, will neither be for nor
against them. It was necessary to show such that the
neutrality in which they conceal themselves is a real
enmity, and that it will be judged as such. It was
necessary to arouse such by our warnings, and, in our
feebleness we have made the attempt. Bless, Lord,
these warnings, given in thy name. Cause them to
penetrate, and take possession of all the souls which
need to hear them ; nay, of all our souls ; for who does
not need to be warned ? Inspire us all with the sincere
desire to belong to Jesus Christ entirely and forever.

18^

THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL.

"He that is not against us is for us."— Luke ix. 20.

Some days ago, we developed the meaning of these
words of our Lord, " He that is not with me is against
me." That was presenting to you the gospel in all its
intolerance. For the gospel has its intolerance, although
it sympathizes not with persecutors, and breathes entire
religious freedom. Its intolerance consists in consider-
ing every one as an enemy who is not its friend. We
endeavored to convince you that this intolerance is
reasonable, conformed to the nature of things, and wor-
thy of God. To-day we attempt to explain these words,
which are also those of our Saviour, " He that is not
against us is for us." At first sight, nothing seems
more contradictory than these two propositions. But
the contradiction is only apparent ; these two state-
ments, instead of neutralizing, complete each other;
they give a natural explanation of each other's mean-
ing, and, to speak exactly, are only two aspects of the
same truth. If our preceding text has shown us the
intolerance of the gospel, this shows us the limit of that
intolerance. If the first has informed us of what the
gospel will not endure, the second teaches us what it
will endure. If the one establishes the intolerance of

THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 419

God, the other attacks and reproves the intolerance of
men. These two expressions, these two truths, support
each other, and hold such a relation the one to the
other, that, in discussing the first a few days ago, we
pledged ourselves, as it were, to discuss the other to-day.
This we proceed to do, without however concealing,
that if our first subject was difficult, this is still more so.
You will all feel this, more or less, and for the same
reason, understand how necessary it is in such a matter,
that the Holy Spirit, which has purified our intentions,
should enlighten our understanding, and direct our
words. Ask this from him on our behalf, and ask also
for yourselves an attentive spirit, a docile heart, and
that quick intelligence of divine things which cannot be
given but by the Spirit of God.

While Jesus, accompanied by some disciples he had
chosen, is exercising, in Judea, his ministry of compas-
sion, a man casts out demons in his name. His disci-
ples wish to prevent him from doing so, because he fol-
lows not Jesus with them. But the Lord rebukes this
indiscreet zeal, by saying, " Forbid him not ; for he that
is not against us is for us."

He that is not against us is for us. In the sense of
the text we explained the other day, these words would
be false ; for we have seen that if any one is not posi-
tively the friend of Jesus, he is his enemy. But let us
carefully notice what is referred to in the words we ex-
plain to-day. It is a man that cast out demons in the
name of Jesus, only he does not follow Jesus with his
disciples.

But such a man, though he did not form a part of the
company that followed Jesus Christ, was certainly not
against him : he wns for .Icsiis Clirist as iiuicfi as the

420 vinet's miscellanies.

disciples themselves, and perhaps even more so. But
what, in fact, was necessary in order to be for Jesus
Christ ? To confess his name, and to do his work ; and
these two conditions were united in the man under con-
sideration.

He confessed the name of Jesus Christ ; for the gos-
pel informs us that it was in the name of Jesus that he
cast out demons. Thus Jesus was to him what he is to
all Christians, " He that was sent to destroy the king-
dom of Satan," — he before whom all the powers of
darkness and the empire of evil must bend and fall, —
whose name alone, invoked through faith, is an impen-
etrable buckler against all the fiery darts of hell, — in a
word, the Saviour, because he saves us from our most
cruel, from our only real enemy.

Not only did this man confess the adorable name of
Jesus, but he performed his work, he cast out demons.
He fought under the banner, and for the cause of Jesus.
He advanced, according to his ability, the triumph of
his Master. He made the enemies of Jesus his en-
emies, and the great design of Jesus his interest. What
more did those disciples who accompanied Jesus in all
his wanderings ? The following we read in the chapter
from which our text is taken, " And behold, a man of
the company cried out, saying, Master, I beseech thee,
look upon my son ; for he is mine only child. And lo,
a spirit seizes him, and causes him to cry out ; and it
teareth him so that he foameth again, and bruising him,
hardly departeth from him. And I besought thy disci-
ples to cast him out ; and they could not. And Jesus
answering, said, O faithless and perverse generation !
how long shall I be with you and suffer you T'
(v. 39-41.) To whom, in your opinion, did he address

THE TOLERANCE OF THE GpSPEL. 421

these overwhelming words, " Unbelieving and perverse
generation," but to the disciples ? With w^hom, if not
with the disciples, was Jesus tired of associating ? And
these very disciples, destitute of the faith necessary to
perform the work of their Master, are the ones opposed
to the labors of that unknown man ! And why ? Be-
cause he followed not Jesus with them.

Such, in fact, is all the difference which appears be-
tween this man and the disciples. It must be confessed
that, at first sight, it is striking. How can he be for
Jesus Christ and not follow him ? But without seeking,
by means of gratuitous suppositions, for the reasons
which kept this man by himself, and compelled him to
serve Jesus at a distance from him, let us observe, that
at this period, our Saviour was accompanied only by
those whom he had expressly called, by authoritatively
separating them from their labors and their families, in
order to prepare them for a glorious apostolate. It was
thus he commanded Peter to leave his nets, and Matthew
his bank, and follow him ; but such. an appeal doubtless
had not been addressed to this man. It was only a little
later (chap, x) that seventy disciples were associated
with the twelve apostles ; and who knows that this
adorer of the name of Jesus did not take the first place
among them ?

But all this is not of so much importance as the re-
flection we are about to present. What is it to follow
Jesus Christ ? According to the apostles, yet imper-
fectly enlightened, it is to accompany the person of the
Saviour in all places, and it was thus they followed him.
But such a view is gross and carnal, and we appeal,
upon this point, to the apostles themselves. One of
them, the organ, in this matter, of the sentiment of all,

422 vinet's miscellanies.

has clearly expressed it, in saying, " If we have formerly
known Christ according to the flesh, we know him in
this manner no more." (2 Cor. v. 16.) And well has
the apostle said so ; for to know Jesus Christ is not to
have seen him in the flesh ; to follow Jesus Christ is not
to follow his person. To know and to follow him is to
recognize him as God manifest in the flesh, to rest upon
his promises, to breathe his spirit. In this sense we can
follow him, though separated by a thousand leagues and
a thousand years.

Let us see, according to this view, how the apostles
followed him, at the period referred to in my text. The
imagination is pleased to represent that retinue of friends
accompanying Jesus everywhere ; but it sees them such
as they since became, not such as they were then. Did
these men, whom Jesus had chosen, not for what they
were in themselves, but, as one may say, for what they
were not, in order more fully to illustrate in them his
power, really follow Jesus Christ ? Did they follow
him, when they disputed among themselves who should
occupy the first places in heaven ? (Mark ix. 33, 34.)
Did they follow him, when they besought him to bring
down fire from heaven, to destroy an unbelieving city ?
(Luke ix. 54.) Did they follow him, when, doubting
whether they had done wisely in attaching themselves
to him, they asked from him indemnities and pledges for
a sacrifice scarcely commenced ? (Mark x. 28.) Ah !
how many times, in the midst of that company of apos-
tles, was the Son of God alone ? The sole confidant
of his own high designs, the sole auditor of his own di-
vine thoughts, how often did he seek around him in
vain for a single soul that comprehended him, a single
heart that loved him as he wished to be loved ! In this

THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 423

point of view his solitude was profound. It was one of
the most painful trials of his life, as it was to be the bit-
terest pang of his death. What, then, did these disci-
ples claim when they said, " This man followeth thee not
with us ?" What difference did that establish in their
favor ; and how could they know that this unknown
person did not follow Jesus better than they did them-
selves ? -

O, how does intolerance here, as in all other cases,
show itself the close companion of weakness, and toler-
ance the associate of greatness ! Jesus is the most tol-
erant of beings, because he is the most holy. Every-
thing which affects his person as a man, disturbs him
not, wounds him not. What is it to him that this man
does not follow him with the twelve ? He casts out
demons, and casts them out in the name of the Son of
God. It is enough ; this man is for him.

On the contrary, see these apostles, still so weak in
faith. Their disposition is the reverse of that of Jesus.
What wounds them is not what wounds the cause of
God, but what offends the person of their Master as a
man, say rather, what offends their own person ! What,
in fact, is their complaint ? " He followeth thee not
with us ;" he is not one of us. True he confesses the
name of Jesus ; true he casts out demons ; but he fol-
lows not Jesus with us ; it is enough ; he is against
Jesus. You have seen the tolerance of God ; behold
the intolerance of man.

The question now presents itself, whether this decla-
ration of Jesus is applicable only to the occasion on
which it was uttered ; or whether it may not be appli-
cable to our times and our circumstances. Are there,
in our day, persons who wish to forbid others to cast

424 vinet's miscellanies.

out demons in the name of Jesus, because they follow
him not with them ? My brethren, while admitting
some differences produced by difference of times, and
giving to some expressions a more general sense, we
meet, in our day, the same kind of intolerance as that
which merited the rebuke of our Saviour, and we find
for his words an immediate and constant application.

To prevent a man casting out demons in the name
of Jesus, is what we cannot always do; but to reject, to
exclude, to condemn him, we certainly can. To cast
out demons, as the man in the text did, is what cannot
take place, in modern times ; but to oppose the power
of the devil, by repelling his pernicious inspirations, by
avoiding the snares he lays for our souls, by extirpating
from our own hearts, and those of others, the germs of
vice and error he has deposited there, is as possible in
our day as in the times of the apostles ; and, thanks to
God, is what we frequently witness. Finally, to con-
demn, reject, and exclude a man, who, though he fol-
lows not Jesus with us, does, nevertheless, perform the
works we have just indicated, is still seen, and seen
every day ; and this, therefore, furnishes a perpet-
ual application for these most benignant words of the
Saviour, " Why do ye forbid him ? He that is not
against us is for us."

Jesus has disappeared from the earth, we cannot,
therefore, follow his person ; but in the spiritual sense
we have explained, some are easily induced to believe
that they follow him better than others. Such a church,
or such a community believes that to follow Jesus
Christ, it is necessary to be with it, form a part of its
organization, join the society of which it is composed,
espouse its interests, hang out its banner. This church,

THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 425

this community, then, still appears, as in the times of
Isaiah, to utter these words, so full of presumption and
bigotry, " Stand back, come not near me ; for I am ho-
lier than thou." (Isa. Ixv. 5.) And more than this, we
see that proposition put in practice, which shocks us
so much in the doctrines of a communion from which
we have separated : " Out of our church no salvation \"

Yet, it is certain, in the first place, that no church
can flatter itself that it is exempt from faults and imper-
fections. No church can offer itself as a perfect model
to all others ; consequently, no church can pretend that
out of its pale it is is impossible to belong to Jesus. It
is absolutely necessary, then, in order to judge of those,
who are not of its body, to have recourse to some other
test, than the gross one of opening its registers, and see-
ing if such a name is found there.

Even if it were perfect, and permitted to think so, it
would not, on that account, be justified in condemning
those who do not belong to it. And for this simple
reason, that perfection in doctrine and in morality can-
not be the heritage of all ; that some particular errors,
some imperfections of detail, do not hinder a man from
being essentially in a good state ; that in every case
there is a progressive improvement, with which none
can well dispense ; that, in general, no one arrives by
a single effort, at what is best in theory and practice ;
and that all that man can reasonably require from his
fellow-man is, that he should follow the road which
conducts thither.

What I have just said, is not intended either to re-
joice the careless, or alarm the strict. For, in the first
place it is certain that the gospel requires nothing less
from all its disciples than perfection, both in faith and

426 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

in morals ; and secondly, it has so clearly traced the
limits, bevond which there is nothing but error and con-
demnation, that is impossible on this subject, to make
the slightest mistake. What is the man who follows
not the Saviour with his apostles, but nevertheless, is
for Jesus, according to the declaration of Jesus him-
self? He is one who casts out demons in the name of
Jesus. I say, then, to every intolerant community. You
condemn that man because he follows not Jesus with
you ; but is it necessary to be with you, in order to con-
fess the name of Jesus ? This, however, is evidently
done by the man whom you condemn. I admit that he
has not studied so profoundly the system of religion as
you have ; that he does not with such exactness unite
its different parts ; that he does not so thoroughly un-
derstand the Scriptures ; that the gifts of the Holy
Spirit have been conferred upon him in scanty measure,
and apparently according to his necessities ; but he
confesses the name of Jesus. The consciousness of his
misery has led him to Christ ; he has cast himself into
the arms of the Saviour ; he has loved him with all the
love of which his heart is capable. It is in Him that
he seeks an asylum against the wrath to come, a conso-
lation in his sorrows, a resource in his wants. It is
through Him that he invokes his Heavenly Father ; and
it is the name of Jesus, which he loves to whisper in the
silence of his closet, and delights to honor before men,
as the only name by which he can be saved. What
wants he more ? What ! join himself to you ? Confess
your name as equal to that of the divine Saviour ?
Hang out your banner by the side of that of the Lamb ?
But who has told you that, I pray you ? Whence do
you derive it, but from yourselves ? I think all that

THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 427

you can claim from him (my text teaches so,) is that he
be not against you, that he do not reject and condemn
you. Nay more, even if he had declared against you
by prepossession and error, he had done nothing more
than you have done to him. If he ought not to do so,
why do you yourselves do it ? And if you can do it,
why might not he ? The wrong is reciprocal ; and
both he and you have to return within the bounds of
equity.

I acknowledge, however, that it is not everything,
simply to confess and invoke the name of Jesus. "Not
every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter
the kingdom of heaven." He must, in addition to this,
cast out demons in the name of the Lord, that is, he
must sanctify himself. And this is precisely what that
man has done, whom you condemn. I can easily be-
lieve that he is behind you, but he advances ; I can
easily believe that you are far before him, but he follows
you ; I can believe that you have found means of edifi-
cation of which he is ignorant, and admit, that if he
were more enlightened, he would profit by the resources
you have found, and that he would join you. Never-
theless, he has understood, and his conduct proves it,
that whosoever says he belongs to Christ ought to live
even as Christ lived ; that the crucifixion of the old
man with his lusts is the only homage worthy of being
offered to the Saviour ; that he must cast out, in his
name, the demons of pride, of sensuality, of self-love, and
of self-riirhteousness which infest the heart of man ; that
he must contend against them by vigilance and prayer;
and that unless he is made a new creature in Christ
Jesus, he cannot see the kingdom of heaven. I say to
you, God alone may require more ; yet 1 believe he

428 vinet's miscellanies.

casts a look of benignity and peace upon that servant,
who has been faithful, in few things it is true, but yet
faithful. Is it for you, then, to condemn him ?

How often have I seen, bearing the burden of the day,
and bending under the cross of his Saviour, a man to
whom intolerance has scarcely accorded the name of
Christian. Contending with old weaknesses, so hard to
remove, bowed down under the habits of a long life,
and still retaining the visible imprint of his fetters, in-
veterate habits and usages still revealed in him the old
man. Yet he had heard the call of grace, and, accord-
ing to the measure of strength given him, he had made
his wav out of that vallev of the shadow of death, by a
painful path, bathed in sweat and tears. He confessed
Jesus with sincerity ; but with the feeling of wretched-
ness scarcely removed. It was only with timidity, that
he could deem himself one of the sheep whom Jesus
knows, whom Jesus loves, and whom his crook conducts
to the pastures of life. And I have seen men, on ac-
count of the incoherence of his language, the remains
of his ancient habits, and the feebleness of his charac-
ter, take it upon them to refuse him the title they ac-
corded to themselves, and dispute his interest in their
common hopes ! Yet these men called themselves
Christians ! And they were such in fact ; but the re-
mains of the old man persuaded them, that in order to
follow Jesus Christ, he must follow him with them, seek
their society, relish their discourse, adopt their prac-
tices. But I have consoled myself by remembering that
they were at one time more exclusive still, that Christi-
anity had already partially subdued their native intoler-
ance ; and by reflecting, that in proportion as they
should more fully taste the gift of God, they would put

THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 429

on more and more that divine compassion, charity and
meekness, which ought ever to distinguish the elect of
God, his saints and well-beloved ones ; for tolerance, I
have said already, is always in proportion to holiness.

Ah ! if in our day, w^e had to complain only of the
intolerance of Christians, we should be tranquil. Faith,
which is the occasion of it, is also its remedy. But
there is a more formidable intolerance, that of unbe-
lief, or a dead faith. We have seen, with profound re-
gret, Christian communities condemn men, though they
cast out demons in the name of Jesus ; but we may
also see unbelievers and formalists condemning others,
precisely because they cast out demons in the name of
Jesus. Tolerant of indifference and lukewarmness, it
is for zeal and living faith that they reserve their intol-
erance. And, what is remarkable, it is not because they
believe themselves to possess the depository of truth,
and the standard of morals, but on the contrary, be-
cause they feel that they have them not, and cannot
suffer any one to enjoy a blessing, of which they are
destitute. And not only do they condemn them by
their words, but they hinder them, when they can, they
interdict, they persecute them. They deny and tram-
ple under foot, not merely the letter and spirit of the
gospel, but the most sacred rights of the human race.
And the immense progress of light is not sufficient to
repress these excesses, and public reason is scarcely
shocked at them.

My dearly beloved brethren, pray with me for the
peace of Jerusalem ; pray that the powers of darkness
may not long oppose the reign of light ; pray that the
consciences of men may receive no other impulse than
that of the Holy Spirit. Above all, pray that Christian-

430 VINET S MISCELLANIES.

ity, becoming purer in all the souls that have received it,
may present, in every place, the example of that divine
tolerance which shone in the person of its adorable
founder ; pray that all Christians may become more and
more worthy of that divine banner, under which they
have ranged themselves, the device of which is Love !
And thou eternal God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
thou who art clothed with all perfection, and whose
eyes are too pure to behold iniquity, but who art full of
patience and long-suffering, breathe thy indulgent spirit
into those, who themselves need it so much from thee ;
teach them tolerance to those whom thou dost tolerate ;
give to them the dispositions of Jesus Christ, who, sat-
isfied with a pure intention, and an honest will, waits
long for what he might demand at once. Teach us, like
him, to look upon the heart, upon what is essential, and
not upon vain circumstances. Enlarge our heart ; tear
away the prejudices and pride which have narrowed its
entrance, and grant that all those whom thou hast given
us as brethren, may- find there an asylum and a home !

THE END.

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NOV 7 ^flSf

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