{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_15780/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_15780","id":"gutenberg_15780","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15780","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - European","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: History - Religious","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Church history -- 19th century","Philosophy and religion","Philosophy, Modern -- History"],"text":"Produced by Afra Ullah, David King, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team\n\n\n\n\n\nAN OUTLINE OF THE HISTORY OF CHRISTIAN THOUGHT SINCE KANT\n\nBY\n\nEDWARD CALDWELL MOORE\n\nPARKMAN PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY\n\n\n\nNEW YORK\nCHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n1912\n\nTO\nADOLF HARNACK\nON HIS SIXTIETH BIRTHDAY\nBY HIS FIRST AMERICAN PUPIL\n\n\n\n\nPREFATORY NOTE\n\n\nIt is hoped that this book may serve as an outline for a larger work, in\nwhich the Judgments here expressed may be supported in detail.\nEspecially, the author desires to treat the literature of the social\nquestion and of the modernist movement with a fulness which has not been\npossible within the limits of this sketch. The philosophy of religion\nand the history of religions should have place, as also that estimate of\nthe essence of Christianity which is suggested by the contact of\nChristianity with the living religions of the Orient.\n\nPASQUE ISLAND, MASS.,\n_July_ 28, 1911.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nA. INTRODUCTION. 1.\nB. THE BACKGROUND. 23.\n  DEISM. 23.\n  RATIONALISM. 25.\n  PIETISM. 30.\n  AESTHETIC IDEALISM. 33.\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nIDEALISTIC PHILOSOPHY. 39.\nKANT. 39.\nFICHTE. 55.\nSCHELLING. 60.\nHEGEL. 66.\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nTHEOLOGICAL RECONSTRUCTION. 74.\nSCHLEIERMACHER. 74.\nRITSCHL AND THE RITSCHLIANS. 89\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\nTHE CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL MOVEMENT. 110.\nSTRAUSS. 114.\nBAUR. 118.\nTHE CANON. 123.\nTHE LIFE OF JESUS. 127.\nTHE OLD TESTAMENT. 130.\nTHE HISTORY OF DOCTRINE. 136.\nHARNACK. 140.\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\nTHE CONTRIBUTION OF THE SCIENCES. 151.\n   POSITIVISM. 156.\n   NATURALISM AND AGNOSTICISM. 162.\n   EVOLUTION. 170.\n   MIRACLES. 175.\n   THE SOCIAL SCIENCES. 176.\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n\nTHE ENGLISH-SPEAKING PEOPLES; ACTION AND REACTION. 191.\n   THE POETS. 195.\n   COLERIDGE. 197.\n   THE ORIEL SCHOOL. 199.\n   ERSINE AND CAMPBELL. 201.\n   MAURICE. 204.\n   CHANNING. 205.\n   BUSHNELL. 207.\n   THE CATHOLIC REVIVAL. 211.\n   THE OXFORD MOVEMENT. 212.\n   NEWMAN. 214.\n   MODERNISM. 221.\n   ROBERTSON. 223.\n   PHILLIPS BROOKS. 224.\n   THE BROAD CHURCH. 224.\n   CARLYLE. 228.\n   EMERSON. 230.\n   ARNOLD. 232.\n   MARTINEAU. 234.\n   JAMES. 238.\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY. 243.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nA. INTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe Protestant Reformation marked an era both in life and thought for\nthe modern world. It ushered in a revolution in Europe. It established\ndistinctions and initiated tendencies which are still significant. These\ndistinctions have been significant not for Europe alone. They have had\ninfluence also upon those continents which since the Reformation have\ncome under the dominion of Europeans. Yet few would now regard the\nReformation as epoch-making in the sense in which that pre-eminence has\nbeen claimed. No one now esteems that it separates the modern from the\nmediaeval and ancient world in the manner once supposed. The perspective\nof history makes it evident that large areas of life and thought\nremained then untouched by the new spirit. Assumptions which had their\norigin in feudal or even in classical culture continued unquestioned.\nMore than this, impulses in rational life and in the interpretation of\nreligion, which showed themselves with clearness in one and another of\nthe reformers themselves, were lost sight of, if not actually\nrepudiated, by their successors. It is possible to view many things in\nthe intellectual and religious life of the nineteenth century, even some\nwhich Protestants have passionately reprobated, as but the taking up\nagain of clues which the reformers had let fall, the carrying out of\npurposes of their movement which were partly hidden from themselves.\n\nMen have asserted that the Renaissance inaugurated a period of paganism.\nThey have gloried that there supervened upon this paganism the religious\nrevival which the Reformation was. Even these men will, however, not\ndeny that it was the intellectual rejuvenation which made the religious\nreformation possible or, at all events, effective. Nor can it be denied\nthat after the Revolution, in the Protestant communities the\nintellectual element was thrust into the background. The practical and\ndevotional prevailed. Humanism was for a time shut out. There was more\nroom for it in the Roman Church than among Protestants. Again, the\nRenaissance itself had been not so much an era of discovery of a new\nintellectual and spiritual world. It had been, rather, the rediscovery\nof valid principles of life in an ancient culture and civilisation. That\nthorough-going review of the principles at the basis of all relations of\nthe life of man, which once seemed possible to Renaissance and\nReformation, was postponed to a much later date. When it did take place,\nit was under far different auspices.\n\nThere is a remarkable unity in the history of Protestant thought in the\nperiod from the Reformation to the end of the eighteenth century. There\nis a still more surprising unity of Protestant thought in this period\nwith the thought of the mediaeval and ancient Church. The basis and\nmethods are the same. Upon many points the conclusions are identical.\nThere was nothing of which the Protestant scholastics were more proud\nthan of their agreement with the Fathers of the early Church. They did\nnot perceive in how large degree they were at one with Christian\nthinkers of the Roman communion as well. Few seem to have realised how\nlargely Catholic in principle Protestant thought has been. The\nfundamental principles at the basis of the reasoning have been the same.\nThe notions of revelation and inspiration were identical. The idea of\nauthority was common to both, only the instance in which that authority\nis lodged was different. The thoughts of God and man, of the world, of\ncreation, of providence and prayer, of the nature and means of\nsalvation, are similar. Newman was right in discovering that from the\nfirst he had thought, only and always, in what he called Catholic terms.\nIt was veiled from him that many of those who ardently opposed him\nthought in those same terms.\n\nIt is impossible to write upon the theme which this book sets itself\nwithout using the terms Catholic and Protestant in the conventional\nsense. The words stand for certain historic magnitudes. It is equally\nimpossible to conceal from ourselves how misleading the language often\nis. The line between that which has been happily called the religion of\nauthority and the religion of the spirit does not run between Catholic\nand Protestant. It runs through the middle of many Protestant bodies,\nthrough the border only of some, and who will say that the Roman Church\nknows nothing of this contrast? The sole use of recurrence here to the\nhistoric distinction is to emphasise the fact that this distinction\nstands for less than has commonly been supposed. In a large way the\nhistory of Christian thought, from earliest times to the end of the\neighteenth century, presents a very striking unity.\n\nIn contrast with this, that modern reflection which has taken the\nphenomenon known as religion and, specifically, that historic form of\nreligion known as Christianity, as its object, has indeed also slowly\nrevealed the fact that it is in possession of certain principles.\nFurthermore, these principles, as they have emerged, have been felt to\nbe new and distinctive principles. They are essentially modern\nprinciples. They are the principles which, taken together, differentiate\nthe thinker of the nineteenth century from all who have ever been before\nhim. They are principles which unite all thinkers at the end of the\nnineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries, in practically\nevery portion of the world, as they think of all subjects except\nreligion. It comes more and more to be felt that these principles must\nbe reckoned with in our thought concerning religion as well.\n\nOne of these principles is, for example, that of dealing in true\ncritical fashion with problems of history and literature. Long before\nthe end of the age of rationalism, this principle had been applied to\nliterature and history, other than those called sacred. The thorough\ngoing application of this scientific method to the literatures and\nhistory of the Old and New Testaments is almost wholly an achievement of\nthe nineteenth century. It has completely altered the view of revelation\nand inspiration. The altered view of the nature of the documents of\nrevelation has had immeasurable consequences for dogma.\n\nAnother of these elements is the new view of nature and of man's\nrelation to nature. Certain notable discoveries in physics and astronomy\nhad proved possible of combination with traditional religion, as in the\ncase of Newton. Or again, they had proved impossible of combination with\nany religion, as in the case of Laplace. The review of the religious and\nChristian problem in the light of the ever increasing volume of\nscientific discoveries--this is the new thing in the period which we\nhave undertaken to describe. A theory of nature as a totality, in which\nman, not merely as physical, but even also as social and moral and\nreligious being, has place in a series which suggests no break, has\naffected the doctrines of God and of man in a way which neither those\nwho revered nor those who repudiated religion at the beginning of the\nnineteenth century could have imagined.\n\nAnother leading principle grows out of Kant's distinction of two worlds\nand two orders of reason. That distinction issued in a new theory of\nknowledge. It laid a new foundation for an idealistic construing of the\nuniverse. In one way it was the answer of a profoundly religious nature\nto the triviality and effrontery into which the great rationalistic\nmovement had run out. By it the philosopher gave standing forever to\nmuch that prophets and mystics in every age had felt to be true, yet had\nnever been able to prove by any method which the ordered reasoning of\nman had provided. Religion as feeling regained its place. Ethics was set\nonce more in the light of the eternal. The soul of man became the object\nof a scientific study.\n\nThere have been thus indicated three, at least, of the larger factors\nwhich enter into an interpretation of Christianity which may fairly be\nsaid to be new in the nineteenth century. They are new in a sense in\nwhich the intellectual elements entering into the reconsideration of\nChristianity in the age of the Reformation were not new. They are\ncharacteristic of the nineteenth century. They would naturally issue in\nan interpretation of Christianity in the general context of the life and\nthought of that century. The philosophical revolution inaugurated by\nKant, with the general drift toward monism in the interpretation of the\nuniverse, separates from their forebears men who have lived since Kant,\nby a greater interval than that which divided Kant from Plato. The\nevolutionary view of nature, as developed from Schelling and Comte\nthrough Darwin to Bergson, divides men now living from the\ncontemporaries of Kant in his youthful studies of nature, as those men\nwere not divided from the followers of Aristotle.\n\nOf purpose, the phrase Christian thought has been interpreted as thought\nconcerning Christianity. The problem which this book essays is that of\nan outline of the history of the thought which has been devoted, during\nthis period of marvellous progress, to that particular object in\nconsciousness and history which is known as Christianity. Christianity,\nas object of the philosophical, critical, and scientific reflection of\nthe age--this it is which we propose to consider. Our religion as\naffected in its interpretation by principles of thought which are\nalready widespread, and bid fair to become universal among educated\nmen--this it is which in this little volume we aim to discuss. The term\nreligious thought has not always had this significance. Philosophy of\nreligion has signified, often, a philosophising of which religion was,\nso to say, the atmosphere. We cannot wonder if, in these circumstances,\nto the minds of some, the atmosphere has seemed to hinder clearness of\nvision. The whole subject of the philosophy of religion has within the\nlast few decades undergone a revival, since it has been accepted that\nthe aim is not to philosophise upon things in general in a religious\nspirit. On the contrary, the aim is to consider religion itself, with\nthe best aid which current philosophy and science afford. In this sense\nonly can we give the study of religion and Christianity a place among\nthe sciences.\n\nIt remains true, now as always, that the majority, at all events, of\nthose who have thought profoundly concerning Christianity will be found\nto have been Christian men. Religion is a form of consciousness. It will\nbe those who have had experience to which that consciousness\ncorresponds, whose judgments can be supposed to have weight. That remark\nis true, for example, of aesthetic matters as well. To be a good judge of\nmusic one must have musical feeling and experience. To speak with any\ndeeper reasonableness concerning faith, one must have faith. To think\nprofoundly concerning Christianity one needs to have had the Christian\nexperience. But this is very different from saying that to speak\nworthily of the Christian religion, one must needs have made his own the\nstatements of religion which men of a former generation may have found\nserviceable. The distinction between religion itself, on the one hand,\nand the expression of religion in doctrines and rites, or the\napplication of religion through institutions, on the other hand, is in\nitself one of the great achievements of the nineteenth century. It is\none which separates us from Christian men in previous centuries as\nmarkedly as it does any other. It is a simple implication of the Kantian\ntheory of knowledge. The evidence for its validity has come through the\napplication of historical criticism to all the creeds. Mystics of all\nages have seen the truth from far. The fact that we may assume the\nprevalence of this distinction among Christian men, and lay it at the\nbase of the discussion we propose, is assuredly one of the gains which\nthe nineteenth century has to record.\n\nIt follows that not all of the thinkers with whom we have to deal will\nhave been, in their own time, of the number of avowedly Christian men.\nSome who have greatly furthered movements which in the end proved\nfruitful for Christian thought, have been men who in their own time\nalienated from professed and official religion. In the retrospect we\nmust often feel that their opposition to that which they took to be\nreligion was justifiable. Yet their identification of that with religion\nitself, and their frank declaration of what they called their own\nirreligion, was often a mistake. It was a mistake to which both they and\ntheir opponents in due proportion contributed. A still larger class of\nthose with whom we have to do have indeed asserted for themselves a\npersonal adherence to Christianity. But their identification with\nChristianity, or with a particular Christian Church, has been often\nbitterly denied by those who bore official responsibility in the Church.\nThe heresy of one generation is the orthodoxy of the next. There is\nsomething perverse in Gottfried Arnold's maxim, that the true Church, in\nany age, is to be found with those who have just been excommunicated\nfrom the actual Church. However, the maxim points in the direction of a\ntruth. By far the larger part of those with whom we have to do have had\nacknowledged relation to the Christian tradition and institution. They\nwere Christians and, at the same time, true children of the intellectual\nlife of their own age. They esteemed it not merely their privilege, but\nalso their duty, to endeavour to ponder anew the religious and Christian\nproblem, and to state that which they thought in a manner congruous with\nthe thoughts which the men of the age would naturally have concerning\nother themes.\n\nIt has been to most of these men axiomatic that doctrine has only\nrelative truth. Doctrine is but a composite of the content of the\nreligious consciousness with materials which the intellect of a given\nman or age or nation in the total view of life affords. As such,\ndoctrine is necessary and inevitable for all those who in any measure\nlive the life of the mind. But the condition of doctrine is its mobile,\nits fluid and changing character. It is the combination of a more or\nless stable and characteristic experience, with a reflection which,\nexactly in proportion as it is genuine, is transformed from age to age,\nis modified by qualities of race and, in the last analysis, differs with\nindividual men. Dogma is that portion of doctrine which has been\nelevated by decree of ecclesiastical authority, or even only by common\nconsent, into an absoluteness which is altogether foreign to its nature.\nIt is that part of doctrine concerning which men have forgotten that it\nhad a history, and have decided that it shall have no more. In its very\nnotion dogma confounds a statement of truth, which must of necessity be\nhuman, with the truth itself, which is divine. In its identification of\nstatement and truth it demands credence instead of faith. Men have\nconfounded doctrine and dogma; they have been taught so to do. They have\nfelt the history of Christian doctrine to be an unfruitful and\nuninteresting theme. But the history of Christian thought would seek to\nset forth the series of interpretations put, by successive generations,\nupon the greatest of all human experiences, the experience of the\ncommunion of men with God. These interpretations ray out at all edges\ninto the general intellectual life of the age. They draw one whole set\nof their formative impulses from the general intellectual life of the\nage. It is this relation of the progress of doctrine to the general\nhistory of thought in the nineteenth century, which the writer designed\nto emphasise in choosing the title of this work.\n\nAs was indicated in the closing paragraphs of the preceding volume of\nthis series, the issue of the age of rationalism had been for the cause\nof religion on the whole a distressing one. The majority of those who\nwere resolved to follow reason were agreed in abjuring religion. That\nthey had, as it seems to us, but a meagre understanding of what religion\nis, made little difference in their conclusion. Bishop Butler complains\nin his _Analogy_ that religion was in his time hardly considered a\nsubject for discussion among reasonable men. Schleiermacher in the very\ntitle of his _Discourses_ makes it plain that in Germany the situation\nwas not different. If the reasonable eschewed religious protests in\nGermany, evangelicals in England, the men of the great revivals in\nAmerica, many of them, took up a corresponding position as towards the\nlife of reason, especially toward the use of reason in religion. The\nsinister cast which the word rationalism bears in much of the popular\nspeech is evidence of this fact. To many minds it appeared as if one\ncould not be an adherent both of reason and of faith. That was a\ncontradiction which Kant, first of all in his own experience, and then\nthrough his system of thought, did much to transcend. The deliverance\nwhich he wrought has been compared to the deliverance which Luther in\nhis time achieved for those who had been in bondage to scholasticism in\nthe Roman Church. Although Kant has been dead a hundred years, both the\ndefence of religion and the assertion of the right of reason are still,\nwith many, on the ancient lines. There is no such strife between\nrationality and belief as has been supposed. But the confidence of that\nfact is still far from being shared by all Christians at the beginning\nof the twentieth century. The course in reinterpretation and\nreadjustment of Christianity, which that calm conviction would imply, is\nstill far from being the one taken by all of those who bear the\nChristian name. If it is permissible in the writing of a book like this\nto have an aim besides that of the most objective delineation, the\nauthor may perhaps be permitted to say that he writes with the earnest\nhope that in some measure he may contribute also to the establishment of\nan understanding upon which so much both for the Church and the world\ndepends.\n\nWe should say a word at this point as to the general relation of\nreligion and philosophy. We realise the evil which Kant first in\nclearness pointed out. It was the evil of an apprehension which made the\nstudy of religion a department of metaphysics. The tendency of that\napprehension was to do but scant justice to the historical content of\nChristianity. Religion is an historical phenomenon. Especially is this\ntrue of Christianity. It is a fact, or rather, a vast complex of facts.\nIt is a positive religion. It is connected with personalities, above all\nwith one transcendent personality, that of Jesus. It sprang out of\nanother religion which had already emerged into the light of\nworld-history. It has been associated for two thousand years with\nportions of the race which have made achievements in culture and left\nrecord of those achievements. It is the function of speculation to\ninterpret this phenomenon. When speculation is tempted to spin by its\nown processes something which it would set beside this historic\nmagnitude or put in place of it, and still call that Christianity, we\nmust disallow the claim. It was the licence of its speculative\nendeavour, and the identification of these endeavours with Christianity,\nwhich finally discredited Hegelianism with religious men. Nor can it be\ndenied that theologians themselves have been sinners in this respect.\nThe disposition to regard Christianity as a revealed and divinely\nauthoritative metaphysic began early and continued long. When the\ntheologians also set out to interpret Christianity and end in offering\nus a substitute, which, if it were acknowledged as absolute truth, would\ndo away with Christianity as historic fact, as little can we allow the\nclaim.\n\nAgain, Christianity exists not merely as a matter of history. It exists\nalso as a fact in living consciousness. It is the function of psychology\nto investigate that consciousness. We must say that, accurately\nspeaking, there is no such thing as Christian philosophy. There are\nphilosophies, good or bad, current or obsolete. These are Christian only\nin being applied to the history of Christianity and the content of the\nChristian consciousness. There is, strictly speaking, no such thing as\nChristian consciousness. There is the human consciousness, operating\nwith and operated upon by the impulse of Christianity. It is the great\nhuman experience from which we single out for investigation that part\nwhich is concerned with religion, and call that the religious\nexperience. It is essential, therefore, that those general\ninvestigations of human consciousness and experience, as such, which are\nbeing carried on all about us should be reckoned with, if our Christian\nlife and thought are not altogether to fall out of touch with advancing\nknowledge. For this reason we have misgiving about the position of some\nfollowers of Ritschl. Their opinion, pushed to the limit, seems to mean\nthat we have nothing to do with philosophy, or with the advance of\nscience. Religion is a feeling of which he alone who possesses it can\ngive account. He alone who has it can appreciate such an account when\ngiven. We acknowledge that religion is in part a feeling. But that\nfeeling must have rational justification. It must also have rational\nguidance if it is to be saved from degenerating into fanaticism.\n\nTo say that we have nothing to do with philosophy ends in our having to\ndo with a bad philosophy. In that case we have a philosophy with which\nwe operate without having investigated it, instead of having one with\nwhich we operate because we have investigated it. The philosophy of\nwhich we are aware we have. The philosophy of which we are not aware has\nus. No doubt, we may have religion without philosophy, but we cannot\nformulate it even in the rudest way to ourselves, we cannot communicate\nit in any way whatsoever to others, except in the terms of a philosophy.\nIn the general sense in which every man has a philosophy, this is merely\nthe deposit of the regnant notions of the time. It may be amended or\nsuperseded, and our theology with it. Yet while it lasts it is our one\npossible vehicle of expression. It is the interpreter and the critique\nof what we have experienced. It is not open to a man to retreat within\nhimself and say, I am a Christian, I feel thus, I think so, these\nthoughts are the content of Christianity. The consequence of that\nposition is that we make the religious experience to be no part of the\nnormal human experience. If we contend that the being a Christian is the\ngreat human experience, that the religious life is the true human life,\nwe must pursue the opposite course. We must make the religious life\ncoherent with all the other phases and elements of life. If we would\ncontend that religious thought is the truest and deepest thought, we\nmust begin at this very point. We must make it conform absolutely to the\nlaws of all other thought. To contend for its isolation, as an area by\nitself and a process subject only to its own laws, is to court the\njudgment of men, that in its zeal to be Christian it has ceased to be\nthought.\n\nOur most profitable mode of procedure would seem to be this. We shall\nseek to follow, as we may, those few main movements of thought marking\nthe nineteenth century which have immediate bearing upon our theme. We\nshall try to register the effect which these movements have had upon\nreligious conceptions. It will not be possible at any point to do more\nthan to select typical examples. Perhaps the true method is that we\nshould go back to the beginnings of each one of these movements. We\nshould mark the emergence of a few great ideas. It is the emergence of\nan idea which is dramatically interesting. It is the moment of emergence\nin which that which is characteristic appears. Our subject is far too\ncomplicated to permit that the ramifications of these influences should\nbe followed in detail. Modifications, subtractions, additions, the\nreader must make for himself.\n\nThese main movements of thought are, as has been said, three in number.\nWe shall take them in their chronological order. There is first the\nphilosophical revolution which is commonly associated with the name of\nKant. If we were to seek with arbitrary exactitude to fix a date for the\nbeginning of this movement, this might be the year of the publication of\nhis first great work, _Kritik der reinen Vernunft_, in 1781.[1] Kant was\nindeed himself, both intellectually and spiritually, the product of\ntendencies which had long been gathering strength. He was the exponent\nof ideas which in fragmentary way had been expressed by others, but he\ngathered into himself in amazing fashion the impulses of his age. Out\nfrom some portion of his works lead almost all the paths which\nphilosophical thinkers since his time have trod. One cannot say even of\nhis work, _Der Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der blossen Vernunft_,\n1793, that it is the sole source, or even the greatest source, of his\ninfluence upon religious thinking. But from the body of his work as a\nwhole, there came a new theory of knowledge which has changed completely\nthe notion of revelation. There came also a view of the universe as an\nideal unity which, especially as elaborated by Fichte, Schelling and\nHegel, has radically altered the traditional ideas of God, of man, of\nnature and of their relations, the one to the other.\n\n[Footnote 1: In the text the titles of books which are discussed are\ngiven for the first time in the language in which they are written.\nBooks which are merely alluded to are mentioned in English.]\n\nWe shall have then, secondly, to note the historical and critical\nmovement. It is the effort to apply consistently and without fear the\nmaxims of historical and literary criticism to the documents of the Old\nand New Testaments. With still greater arbitrariness, and yet with\nappreciation of the significance of Strauss' endeavour, we might set as\nthe date of the full impact of this movement upon cherished religious\nconvictions, that of the publication of his _Leben Jesu_, 1835. This\nmovement has supported with abundant evidence the insight of the\nphilosophers as to the nature of revelation. It has shown that that\nwhich we actually have in the Scriptures is just that which Kant, with\nhis reverence for the freedom of the human mind, had indicated that we\nmust have, if revelation is to be believed in at all. With this changed\nview has come an altered attitude toward many statements which devout\nmen had held that they must accept as true, because these were found in\nScripture. With this changed view the whole history, whether of the\nJewish people or of Jesus and the origins of the Christian Church, has\nbeen set in a new light.\n\nIn the third place, we shall have to deal with the influence of the\nsciences of nature and of society, as these have been developed\nthroughout the whole course of the nineteenth century. If one must have\na date for an outstanding event in this portion of the history, perhaps\nthat of the publication of Darwin's _Origin of Species_, 1859, would\nserve as well as any other. The principles of these sciences have come\nto underlie in a great measure all the reflection of cultivated men in\nour time. In amazing degree they have percolated, through elementary\ninstruction, through popular literature, and through the newspapers, to\nthe masses of mankind. They are recognised as the basis of a triumphant\nmaterial civilisation, which has made everything pertaining to the inner\nand spiritual life seem remote. Through the social sciences there has\ncome an impulse to the transfer of emphasis from the individual to\nsociety, the disposition to see everything in its social bearing, to do\neverything in the light of its social antecedents and of its social\nconsequences. Here again we have to note the profoundest influence upon\nreligious conceptions. The very notion connected with the words\nredemption and salvation appears to have been changed.\n\nIn the case of each of these particular movements the church, as the\norgan of Christianity, has passed through a period of antagonism to\nthese influences, of fear of their consequences, of resistance to their\nprogress. In large portions of the church at the present moment the\nprotest is renewed. The substance of these modern teachings, which yet\nseem to be the very warp and woof of the intellectual life of the modern\nman, is repudiated and denounced. It is held to imperil the salvation of\nthe soul. It is pronounced impossible of combination with belief in a\ndivinely revealed truth concerning the universe and a saving faith for\nmen. In other churches, outside the churches, the forms in which men\nhold their Christianity have been in large measure adjusted to the\nresults of these great movements of thought. They have, as these men\nthemselves believe, been immensely strengthened and made sure by those\nvery influences which were once considered dangerous.\n\nIn connection with this indication of the nature of our materials, we\nhave sought to say something of the time of emergence of the salient\nelements. It may be in point also to give some intimation of the place\nof their origins, that is to say, of the participation of the various\nnationalities in this common task of the modern Christian world. That\ninternational quality of scholarship which seems to us natural, is a\nthing of very recent date. That a discovery should within a reasonable\ninterval become the property of all educated men, that scholars of one\nnation should profit by that which the learned of another land have\ndone, appears to us a thing to be assumed. It has not always been so,\nespecially not in matters of religious faith. The Roman Church and the\nLatin language gave to medieval Christian thought a certain\ninternational character. Again the Renaissance and Reformation had a\ncertain world wide quality. The relations of the English Church in the\nreigns of the last Tudors to Germany, Switzerland, and France are not to\nbe forgotten. But the life of the Protestant national churches in the\neighteenth century shows little of this trait. The barriers of language\ncounted for something. The provincialism of national churches and\ndenominational predilections counted for more.\n\nIn the philosophical movement we must begin with the Germans. The\nmovement of English thought known as deism was a distinct forerunner of\nthe rationalist movement, within the particular area of the discussion\nof religion. However, it ran into the sand. The rationalist movement,\nconsidered in its other aspects, never attained in England in the\neighteenth century the proportions which it assumed in France and\nGermany. In France that movement ran its full course, both among the\nlearned and, equally, as a radical and revolutionary influence among the\nunlearned. It had momentous practical consequences. In no sphere was it\nmore radical than in that of religion. Not in vain had Voltaire for\nyears cried, '_Ecrasez l'infame_,' and Rousseau preached that the youth\nwould all be wise and pure, if only the kind of education which he had\nhad in the religious schools were made impossible. There was for many\nminds no alternative between clericalism and atheism. Quite logically,\ntherefore, after the downfall of the Republic and of the Empire there\nset in a great reaction. Still it was simply a reversion to the absolute\nreligion of the Roman Catholic Church as set forth by the Jesuit party.\nThere was no real transcending of the rationalist movement in France in\nthe interest of religion. There has been no great constructive movement\nin religious thought in France in the nineteenth century. There is\nrelatively little literature of our subject in the French language until\nrecent years.\n\nIn Germany, on the other hand, the rationalist movement had always had\nover against it the great foil and counterpoise of the pietist movement.\nRationalism ran a much soberer course than in France. It was never a\nrevolutionary and destructive movement as in France. It was not a\ndilettante and aristocratic movement as deism had been in England. It\nwas far more creative and constructive than elsewhere. Here also before\nthe end of the century it had run its course. Yet here the men who\ntranscended the rationalist movement and shaped the spiritual revival in\nthe beginning of the nineteenth century were men who had themselves been\ntrained in the bosom of the rationalist movement. They had appropriated\nthe benefits of it. They did not represent a violent reaction against\nit, but a natural and inevitable progress within and beyond it. This it\nwas which gave to the Germans their leadership at the beginning of the\nnineteenth century in the sphere of the intellectual life. It is worthy\nof note that the great heroes of the intellectual life in Germany, in\nthe period of which we speak, were most of them deeply interested in the\nproblem of religion. The first man to bring to England the leaven of\nthis new spirit, and therewith to transcend the old philosophical\nstandpoint of Locke and Hume, was Coleridge with his _Aids to\nReflection_, published in 1825. But even after this impulse of Coleridge\nthe movement remained in England a sporadic and uncertain one. It had\nnothing of the volume and conservativeness which belonged to it in\nGermany.\n\nColeridge left among his literary remains a work published in 1840 under\nthe title of _Confessions of an Enquiring Spirit_. What is here written\nis largely upon the basis of intuition and forecast like that of Remarus\nand Lessing a half-century earlier in Germany. Strauss and others were\nalready at work in Germany upon the problem of the New Testament, Vatke\nand Reuss upon that of the Old. This was a different kind of labour, and\ndestined to have immeasurably greater significance. George Eliot's\nmaiden literary labour was the translation into English of Strauss'\nfirst edition. But the results of that criticism were only slowly\nappropriated by the English. The ostensible results were at first\nradical and subversive in the extreme. They were fiercely repudiated in\nStrauss' own country. Yet in the main there was acknowledgement of the\ncorrectness of the principle for which Strauss had stood. Hardly before\nthe decade of the sixties was that method accepted in England in any\nwider way, and hardly before the decade of the seventies in America.\nRonan was the first to set forth, in 1863, the historical and critical\nproblem in the new spirit, in a way that the wide public which read\nFrench understood.\n\nWhen we come to speak of the scientific movement it is not easy to say\nwhere the leadership lay. Many Englishmen were in the first rank of\ninvestigators and accumulators of material. The first attempt at a\nsystematisation of the results of the modern sciences was that of\nAuguste Comte in his _Philosophie Positive_. This philosophy, however,\nunder its name of Positivism, exerted a far greater influence, both in\nComte's time and subsequently, in England than it did in France. Herbert\nSpencer, after the middle of the decade of the sixties, essayed to do\nsomething of the sort which Comte had attempted. He had far greater\nadvantages for the solution of the problem. Comte's foil in all of his\ndiscussions of religion was the Catholicism of the south of France. None\nthe less, the religion which in his later years he created, bears\nstriking resemblance to that which in his earlier years he had sought to\ndestroy. Spencer's attitude toward religion was in his earlier work one\nof more pronounced antagonism or, at least, of more complete agnosticism\nthan in later days he found requisite to the maintenance of his\nscientific freedom and conscientiousness. Both of these men represent\nthe effort to construe the world, including man, from the point of view\nof the natural and also of the social sciences, and to define the place\nof religion in that view of the world which is thus set forth. The fact\nthat there had been no such philosophical readjustment in Great Britain\nas in Germany, made the acceptance of the evolutionary theory of the\nuniverse, which more and more the sciences enforced, slower and more\ndifficult. The period of resistance on the part of those interested in\nreligion extended far into the decade of the seventies.\n\nA word may be added concerning America. The early settlers had been\nproud of their connection with the English universities. An\nextraordinary number of them, in Massachusetts at least, had been\nCambridge men. Yet a tradition of learning was later developed, which\nwas not without the traits of isolation natural in the circumstances.\nThe residence, for a time, even of a man like Berkeley in this country,\naltered that but little. The clergy remained in singular degree the\neducated and highly influential class. The churches had developed, in\nconsonance with their Puritan character, a theology and philosophy so\nportentous in their conclusions, that we can without difficulty\nunderstand the reaction which was brought about. Wesleyanism had\nmodified it in some portions of the country, but intensified it in\nothers. Deism apparently had had no great influence. When the\nrationalist movement of the old world began to make itself felt, it was\nat first largely through the influence of France. The religious life of\nthe country at the beginning of the nineteenth century was at a low ebb.\nMen like Belaham and Priestley were known as apostles of a freer spirit\nin the treatment of the problem of religion. Priestley came to\nPennsylvania in his exile. In the large, however, one may say that the\nNew England liberal movement, which came by and by to be called\nUnitarian, was as truly American as was the orthodoxy to which it was\nopposed. Channing reminds one often of Schleiermacher. There is no\nevidence that he had learned from Schleiermacher. The liberal movement\nby its very impetuosity gave a new lease of life to an orthodoxy which,\nwithout that antagonism, would sooner have waned. The great revivals,\nwhich were a benediction to the life of the country, were thought to\nhave closer relation to the theology of those who participated in them\nthan they had. The breach between the liberal and conservative\ntendencies of religious thought in this country came at a time when the\nphilosophical reconstruction was already well under way in Europe. The\ndebate continued until long after the biblical-critical movement was in\nprogress. The controversy was conducted upon both sides in practically\ntotal ignorance of these facts. There are traces upon both sides of that\ninsight which makes the mystic a discoverer in religion, before the\nlogic known to him will sustain the conclusion which he draws. There\nwill always be interest in the literature of a discussion conducted by\nreverent and, in their own way, learned and original men. Yet there is a\npathos about the sturdy originality of good men expended upon a problem\nwhich had been already solved. The men in either camp proceeded from\nassumptions which are now impossible to the men of both. It was not\nuntil after the Civil War that American students of theology began in\nnumbers to study in Germany. It is a much more recent thing that one may\nassume the immediate reading of foreign books, or boast of current\ncontribution from American scholars to the labour of the world's thought\nupon these themes.\n\nWe should make a great mistake if we supposed that the progress has been\nan unceasing forward movement. Quite the contrary, in every aspect of it\nthe life of the early part of the nineteenth century presents the\nspectacle of a great reaction. The resurgence of old ideas and forces\nseems almost incredible. In the political world we are wont to attribute\nthis fact to the disillusionment which the French Revolution had\nwrought, and the suffering which the Napoleonic Empire had entailed. The\nreaction in the world of thought, and particularly of religious thought,\nwas, moreover, as marked as that in the world of deeds. The Roman Church\nprofited by this swing of the pendulum in the minds of men as much as\ndid the absolute State. Almost the first act of Pius VII. after his\nreturn to Rome in 1814, was the revival of the Society of Jesus, which\nhad been after long agony in 1773 dissolved by the papacy itself. 'Altar\nand throne' became the watchword of an ardent attempt at restoration of\nall of that which millions had given their lives to do away. All too\neasily, one who writes in sympathy with that which is conventionally\ncalled progress may give the impression that our period is one in which\nmovement has been all in one direction. That is far from being true. One\nwhose very ideal of progress is that of movement in directions opposite\nto those we have described may well say that the nineteenth century has\nhad its gifts for him as well. The life of mankind is too complex that\none should write of it with one exclusive standard as to loss and gain.\nAnd whatever be one's standard the facts cannot be ignored.\n\nThe France of the thirties and the forties saw a liberal movement within\nthe Roman Church. The names of Lamennais, of Lacordaire, of Montalembert\nand Ozanam, the title _l'Avenir_ occur to men's minds at once. Perhaps\nthere has never been in France a party more truly Catholic, more devout,\nrefined and tolerant, more fitted to heal the breach between the\ncultivated and the Church. However, before the Second Empire, an end had\nbeen made of that. It cannot be said that the French Church exactly\nfavoured the infallibility. It certainly did not stand against the\ndecree as in the old days it would have done. The decree of\ninfallibility is itself the greatest witness of the steady progress of\nreaction in the Roman Church. That action, theoretically at least, does\naway with even that measure of popular constitution in the Church to\nwhich the end of the Middle Age had held fast without wavering, which\nthe mightiest of popes had not been able to abolish and the council of\nTrent had not dared earnestly to debate. Whether the decree of 1870 is\nviewed in the light of the _Syllabus of Errors_ of 1864, and again of\nthe _Encyclical_ of 1907, or whether the encyclicals are viewed in the\nlight of the decree, the fact remains that a power has been given to the\nCuria against what has come to be called Modernism such as Innocent\nnever wielded against the heresies of his day. Meantime, so hostile are\nexactly those peoples among whom Roman Catholicism has had full sway,\nthat it would almost appear that the hope of the Roman Church is in\nthose countries in which, in the sequence of the Reformation, a\nreligious tolerance obtains, which the Roman Church would have done\neverything in its power to prevent.\n\nAgain, we should deceive ourselves if we supposed that the reaction had\nbeen felt only in Roman Catholic lands. A minister of Prussia forbade\nKant to speak concerning religion. The Prussia of Frederick William III.\nand of Frederick William IV. was almost as reactionary as if Metternich\nhad ruled in Berlin as well as in Vienna. The history of the censorship\nof the press and of the repression of free thought in Germany until the\nyear 1848 is a sad chapter. The ruling influences in the Lutheran Church\nin that era, practically throughout Germany, were reactionary. The\nuniversities did indeed in large measure retain their ancient freedom.\nBut the church in which Hengstenberg could be a leader, and in which\nstaunch seventeenth-century Lutheranism could be effectively sustained,\nwas almost doomed to further that alienation between the life of piety\nand the life of learning which is so much to be deplored. In the Church\nthe conservatives have to this moment largely triumphed. In the\ntheological faculties of the universities the liberals in the main have\nheld their own. The fact that both Church and faculties are\nfunctionaries of the State is often cited as sure in the end to bring\nabout a solution of this unhappy state of things. For such a solution,\nit must be owned, we wait.\n\nThe England of the period after 1815 had indeed no such cause for\nreaction as obtained in France or even in Germany. The nation having had\nits Revolution in the seventeenth century escaped that of the\neighteenth. Still the country was exhausted in the conflict against\nNapoleon. Commercial, industrial and social problems agitated it. The\nChurch slumbered. For a time the liberal thought of England found\nutterance mainly through the poets. By the decade of the thirties\nmovement had begun. The opinions of the Noetics in Oriel College,\nOxford, now seem distinctly mild. They were sufficient to awaken Newman\nand Pusey, Froude, Keble, and the rest. Then followed the most\nsignificant ecclesiastical movement which the Church of England in the\nnineteenth century has seen, the Oxford or Tractarian movement, as it\nhas been called. There was conscious recurrence of a mind like that of\nNewman to the Catholic position. He had never been able to conceive\nreligion in any other terms than those of dogma, or the Christian\nassurance on any other basis than that of external authority. Nothing\ncould be franker than the antagonism of the movement, from its\ninception, to the liberal spirit of the age. By inner logic Newman found\nhimself at last in the Roman Church. Yet the Anglo-Catholic movement is\nto-day overwhelmingly in the ascendant in the English Church. The Broad\nChurchmen of the middle of the century have had few successors. It is\nthe High Church which stands over against the great mass of the\ndissenting churches which, taken in the large, can hardly be said to be\ntheologically more liberal than itself. It is the High Church which has\nshowed Franciscanlike devotion in the problems of social readjustment\nwhich England to-day presents. It has shown in some part of its\nconstituency a power of assimilation of new philosophical, critical and\nscientific views, which makes all comparison of it with the Roman Church\nmisleading. And yet it remains in its own consciousness Catholic to the\ncore.\n\nIn America also the vigour of onset of the liberalising forces at the\nbeginning of this century tended to provoke reaction. The alarm with\nwhich the defection of so considerable a portion of the Puritan Church\nwas viewed gave coherence to the opposition. There were those who\ndevoutly held that the hope of religion lay in its further\nliberalisation. Equally there were those who deeply felt that the\ndeliverance lay in resistance to liberalisation. One of the concrete\neffects of the division of the churches was the separation of the\neducation of the clergy from the universities, the entrusting it to\nisolated theological schools under denominational control. The system\nhas done less harm than might have been expected. Yet at present there\nwould appear to be a general movement of recurrence to the elder\ntradition. The maintenance of the religious life is to some extent a\nmatter of nurture and observances, of religious habit and practice. This\ntruth is one which liberals, in their emphasis upon liberty and the\nindividual, are always in danger of overlooking. The great revivals of\nreligion in this century, like those of the century previous, have been\nconnected with a form of religious thought pronouncedly pietistic. The\nbuilding up of religious institutions in the new regions of the West,\nand the participation of the churches of the country in missions, wear\npredominantly this cast. Antecedently, one might have said that the lack\nof ecclesiastical cohesion among the Christians of the land, the ease\nwith which a small group might split off for the furtherance of its own\nparticular view, would tend to liberalisation. It is doubtful whether\nthis is true. Isolation is not necessarily a condition of progress. The\nemphasis upon trivial differences becomes rather a condition of their\npermanence. The middle of the nineteenth century in the United States\nwas a period of intense denominationalism. That is synonymous with a\nperiod of the stagnation of Christian thought. The religion of a people\nabsorbed in the practical is likely to be one which they at least\nsuppose to be a practical religion. In one age the most practical thing\nwill appear to men to be to escape hell, in another to further\nsocialism. The need of adjustment of religion to the great intellectual\nlife of the world comes with contact with that life. What strikes one in\nthe survey of the religious thought of the country, by and large, for a\ncentury and a quarter, is not so much that it has been reactionary, as\nthat it has been stationary. Almost every other aspect of the life of\nour country, including even that of religious life as distinguished from\nreligious thought, has gone ahead by leaps and bounds. This it is which\nin a measure has created the tension which we feel.\n\n\nB. THE BACKGROUND\n\nDeism\n\n\nIn England before the end of the Civil War a movement for the\nrationalisation of religion had begun to make itself felt. It was in\nfull force in the time of the Revolution of 1688. It had not altogether\nspent itself by the middle of the eighteenth century. The movement has\nborne the name of Deism. In so far as it had one watchword, this came to\nbe 'natural religion.' The antithesis had in mind was that to revealed\nreligion, as this had been set forth in the tradition of the Church, and\nparticularly under the bibliolatry of the Puritans. It is a witness to\nthe liberty of speech enjoyed by Englishmen in that day and to their\ninterest in religion, that such a movement could have arisen largely\namong laymen who were often men of rank. It is an honour to the English\nrace that, in the period of the rising might of the rational spirit\nthroughout the western world, men should have sought at once to utilise\nthat force for the restatement of religion. Yet one may say quite simply\nthat this undertaking of the deists was premature. The time was not ripe\nfor the endeavour. The rationalist movement itself needed greater\nbreadth and deeper understanding of itself. Above all, it needed the\nsalutary correction of opposing principles before it could avail for\nthis delicate and difficult task. Religion is the most conservative of\nhuman interests. Rationalism would be successful in establishing a new\ninterpretation of religion only after it had been successful in many\nother fields. The arguments of the deists were never successfully\nrefuted. On the contrary, the striking thing is that their opponents,\nthe militant divines and writings of numberless volumes of 'Evidences\nfor Christianity,' had come to the same rational basis with the deists.\nThey referred even the most subtle questions to the pure reason, as no\none now would do. The deistical movement was not really defeated. It\nlargely compelled its opponents to adopt its methods. It left a deposit\nwhich is more nearly rated at its worth at the present than it was in\nits own time. But it ceased to command confidence, or even interest.\nSamuel Johnson said, as to the publication of Bolingbroke's work by his\nexecutor, three years after the author's death: 'It was a rusty old\nblunderbuss, which he need not have been afraid to discharge himself,\ninstead of leaving a half-crown to a Scotchman to let it off after his\ndeath.'\n\nIt is a great mistake, however, in describing the influence of\nrationalism upon Christian thought to deal mainly with deism. English\ndeism made itself felt in France, as one may see in the case of\nVoltaire. Kant was at one time deeply moved by some English writers who\nwould be assigned to this class. In a sense Kant showed traces of the\ndeistical view to the last. The centre of the rationalistic movement\nhad, however, long since passed from England to the Continent. The\nreligious problem was no longer its central problem. We quite fail to\nappreciate what the nineteenth century owes to the eighteenth and to the\nrationalist movement in general, unless we view this latter in a far\ngreater way.\n\n\nRationalism\n\n\nIn 1784 Kant wrote a tractate entitled, _Was ist Aufklaerung?_ He said:\n'Aufklaerung is the advance of man beyond the stage of voluntary\nimmaturity. By immaturity is meant a man's inability to use his\nunderstanding except under the guidance of another. The immaturity is\nvoluntary when the cause is not want of intelligence but of resolution.\n_Sapere aude!_ \"Dare to use thine own understanding,\" is therefore the\nmotto of free thought. If it be asked, \"Do we live in a free-thinking\nage?\" the answer is, \"No, but we live in an age of free thought.\" As\nthings are at present, men in general are very far from possessing, or\neven from being able to acquire, the power of making a sure and right\nuse of their own understanding without the guidance of others. On the\nother hand, we have clear indications that the field now lies,\nnevertheless, open before them, to which they can freely make their way\nand that the hindrances to general freedom of thought are gradually\nbecoming less. And again he says: 'If we wish to insure the true use of\nthe understanding by a method which is universally valid, we must first\ncritically examine the laws which are involved in the very nature of the\nunderstanding itself. For the knowledge of a truth which is valid for\neveryone is possible only when based on laws which are involved in the\nnature of the human mind, as such, and have not been imported into it\nfrom without through facts of experience, which must always be\naccidental and conditional.'\n\nThere speaks, of course, the prophet of the new age which was to\ntranscend the old rationalist movement. Men had come to harp in\ncomplacency upon reason. They had never inquired into the nature and\nlaws of action of the reason itself. Kant, though in fullest sympathy\nwith its fundamental principles, was yet aware of the excesses and\nweaknesses in which the rationalist movement was running out. No man was\never more truly a child of rationalism. No man has ever written, to whom\nthe human reason was more divine and inviolable. Yet no man ever had\ngreater reserves within himself which rationalism, as it had been, had\nnever touched. It was he, therefore, who could lay the foundations for a\nnew and nobler philosophy for the future. The word _Aufklaerung_, which\nthe speech of the Fatherland furnished him, is a better word than ours.\nIt is a better word than the French _l'Illuminisme_, the Enlightenment.\nStill we are apparently committed to the term Rationalism, although it\nis not an altogether fortunate designation which the English-speaking\nrace has given to a tendency practically universal in the thinking of\nEurope, from about 1650 to the beginning of the nineteenth century.\nHistorically, the rationalistic movement was the necessary preliminary\nfor the modern period of European civilization as distinguished from the\necclesiastically and theologically determined culture which had\nprevailed up to that time. It marks the great cleft between the ancient\nand mediaeval world of culture on the one hand and the modern world on\nthe other. The Reformation had but pushed ajar the door to the modern\nworld and then seemed in surprise and fear about to close it again. The\nthread of the Renaissance was taken up again only in the Enlightenment.\nThe stream flowed underground which was yet to fertilise the modern\nworld.\n\nWe are here mainly concerned to note the breadth and universality of the\nmovement. It was a transformation of culture, a change in the principles\nunderlying civilisation, in all departments of life. It had indeed, as\none of its most general traits, the antagonism to ecclesiastical and\ntheological authority. Whatever it was doing, it was never without a\nsidelong glance at religion. That was because the alleged divine right\nof churches and states was the one might which it seemed everywhere\nnecessary to break. The conflict with ecclesiasticism, however, was\ntaken up also by Pietism, the other great spiritual force of the age.\nThis was in spite of the fact that the Pietists' view of religion was\nthe opposite of the rationalist view. Rationalism was characterised by\nthorough-going antagonism to supernaturalism with all its consequences.\nThis arose from its zeal for the natural and the human, in a day when\nall men, defenders and assailants of religion alike, accepted the dictum\nthat what was human could not be divine, the divine must necessarily be\nthe opposite of the human. In reality this general trait of opposition\nto religion deceives us. It is superficial. In large part the\nrationalists were willing to leave the question of religion on one side\nif the ecclesiastics would let them alone. This is true in spite of the\nfact that the pot-house rationalism of Germany and France in the\neighteenth century found the main butt of its ridicule in the priesthood\nand the Church. On its sober side, in the studies of scholars, in the\nbureaux of statesmen, in the laboratories of discoverers, it found more\nsolid work. It accomplished results which that other trivial aspect must\nnot hide from us.\n\nTroeltsch first in our own day has given us a satisfactory account of\nthe vast achievement of the movement in every department of human\nlife.[2] It annihilated the theological notion of the State. In the\nperiod after the Thirty Years' War men began to question what had been\nthe purpose of it all. Diplomacy freed itself from Jesuitical and papal\nnotions. It turned preponderantly to commercial and economic aims. A\nsecular view of the purpose of God in history began to prevail in all\nclasses of society. The Grand Monarque was ready to proclaim the divine\nright of the State which was himself. Still, not until the period of his\ndotage did that claim bear any relation to what even he would have\ncalled religion. Publicists, both Catholic and Protestant, sought to\nrecur to the _lex naturae_ in contradistinction with the old _lex\ndivina_. The natural rights of man, the rights of the people, the\nrationally conditioned rights of the State, a natural, prudential,\nutilitarian morality interested men. One of the consequences of this\ntheory of the State was a complete alteration in the thought of the\nrelation of State and Church. The nature of the Church itself as an\nempirical institution in the midst of human society was subjected to the\nsame criticism with the State. Men saw the Church in a new light. As the\nState was viewed as a kind of contract in men's social interest, so the\nChurch was regarded as but a voluntary association to care for their\nreligious interests. It was to be judged according to the practical\nsuccess with which it performed this function.\n\n[Footnote 2: Troeltsch, Art. 'Aufklaerung' in Herzog-Hauck,\n_Realencylopaedie_, 3 Aufl., Bd. ii., s. 225 f.]\n\nThen also, in the economic and social field the rational spirit made\nitself felt. Commerce and the growth of colonies, the extension of the\nmiddle class, the redistribution of wealth, the growth of cities, the\ndependence in relations of trade of one nation upon another, all these\nthings shook the ancient organisation of society. The industrial system\ngrew up upon the basis of a naturalistic theory of all economic\nrelations. Unlimited freedom in labour and in the use of capital were\nclaimed. There came a great revolution in public opinion upon all\nmatters of morals. The ferocity of religious wars, the cruelty of\nreligious controversies, the bigotry of the confessional, these all,\nwhich, only a generation earlier, had been taken by long-suffering\nhumanity as if they had been matters of course, were now viewed with\ncontrition by the more exalted spirits and with contempt and\nembitterment by the rest. Men said, if religion can give us not better\nmorality than this, it is high time we looked to the natural basis of\nmorality. Natural morality came to be the phrase ever on the lips of the\nleading spirits. Too frequently they had come to look askance at the\nmorality of those who alleged a supernatural sanction for that which\nthey at least enjoined upon others. We come in this field also, as in\nothers, upon the assertion of the human as nobler and more beautiful\nthan that which had by the theologians been alleged to be divine. The\nassertion came indeed to be made in ribald and blasphemous forms, but it\nwas not without a great measure of provocation.\n\nThen there was the altered view of nature which came through the\nscientific discoveries of the age. Bacon, Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo,\nGassendi, Newton, are the fathers of the modern sciences. These are the\nmen who brought new worlds to our knowledge and new methods to our use.\nThat the sun does not move about the earth, that the earth is but a\nspeck in space, that heaven cannot be above nor hell beneath, these are\nthoughts which have consequences. Instead of the old deductive method,\nthat of the mediaeval Aristotelianism, which had been worse than\nfruitless in the study of nature, men now set out with a great\nenthusiasm to study facts, and to observe their laws. Modern optics,\nacoustics, chemistry, geology, zoology, psychology and medicine, took\ntheir rises within the period of which we speak. The influence was\nindescribable. Newton might maintain his own simple piety side by side,\nso to say, with his character, as a scientific man, though even he did\nnot escape the accusation of being a Unitarian. In the resistance which\nofficial religion offered at every step to the advance of the sciences,\nit is small wonder if natures less placid found the maintenance of their\nancestral faith too difficult. Natural science was deistic with Locke\nand Voltaire, it was pantheistic in the antique sense with Shaftesbury,\nit was pantheistic-mystical with Spinoza, spiritualistic with Descartes,\ntheistic with Leibnitz, materialistic with the men of the Encyclopaedia.\nIt was orthodox with nobody. The miracle as traditionally defined became\nimpossible. At all events it became the millstone around the neck of the\napologists. The movement went to an extreme. All the evils of excess\nupon this side from which we since have suffered were forecast. They\nwere in a measure called out by the evils and errors which had so long\nreigned upon the other side.\n\nAgain, in the field of the writing of history and of the critique of\nancient literatures, the principles of rational criticism were worked\nout and applied in all seriousness. Then these maxims began to be\napplied, sometimes timidly and sometimes in scorn and shallowness, to\nthe sacred history and literature as well. To claim, as the defenders of\nthe faith were fain to do, that this one department of history was\nexempt, was only to tempt historians to say that this was equivalent to\nconfession that we have not here to do with history at all.\n\nNor can we overlook the fact that the seventeenth and eighteenth\ncenturies witnessed a great philosophical revival. Here again it is the\nrationalist principle which is everywhere at work. The observations upon\nnature, the new feeling concerning man, the vast complex of facts and\nimpulses which we have been able in these few words to suggest, demanded\na new philosophical treatment. The philosophy which now took its rise\nwas no longer the servant of theology. It was, at most, the friend, and\neven possibly the enemy, of theology. Before the end of the rationalist\nperiod it was the master of theology, though often wholly indifferent to\ntheology, exactly because of its sense of mastery. The great\nphilosophers of the eighteenth century, Hume, Berkeley, and Kant, belong\nwith a part only of their work and tendency to the rationalist movement.\nStill their work rested upon that which had already been done by Spinoza\nand Malebranche, by Hobbes and Leibnitz, by Descartes and Bayle, by\nLocke and Wolff, by Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists. With all of the\ncontrasts among these men there are common elements. There is an ever\nincreasing antipathy to the thought of original sin and of supernatural\nrevelation, there is the confidence of human reason, the trust in the\nwill of man, the enthusiasm for the simple, the natural, the\nintelligible and practical, the hatred of what was scholastic and, above\nall, the repudiation of authority.\n\nAll these elements led, toward the end of the period, to the effort at\nthe construction of a really rational theology. Leibnitz and Lessing\nboth worked at that problem. However, not until after the labours of\nKant was it possible to utilise the results of the rationalist movement\nfor the reconstruction of theology. If evidence for this statement were\nwanting, it could be abundantly given from the work of Herder. He was\nyounger than Kant, yet the latter seems to have exerted but slight\ninfluence upon him. He earnestly desired to reinterpret Christianity in\nthe new light of his time, yet perhaps no part of his work is so futile.\n\n\nPietism\n\n\nAllusion has been made to pietism. We have no need to set forth its own\nachievements. We must recur to it merely as one of the influences which\nmade the transition from the century of rationalism to bear, in Germany,\nan aspect different from that which it bore in any other land. Pietism\nhad at first much in common with rationalism. It shared with the latter\nits opposition to the whole administration of religion established by\nthe State, its antagonism to the social distinctions which prevailed,\nits individualism, its emphasis upon the practical. It was part of a\ngeneral religious reaction against ecclesiasticism, as were also\nJansenism in France, and Methodism in England, and the Whitefieldian\nrevival in America. But, through the character of Spener, and through\nthe peculiarity of German social relations, it gained an influence over\nthe educated classes, such as Methodism never had in England, nor, on\nthe whole, the Great Awakening in America. In virtue of this, German\npietism was able, among influential persons, to present victorious\nopposition to the merely secular tendencies of the rationalistic\nmovement. In no small measure it breathed into that movement a religious\nquality which in other lands was utterly lacking. It gave to it an\nethical seriousness from which in other places it had too often set\nitself free.\n\nIn England there had followed upon the age of the great religious\nconflict one of astounding ebb of spiritual interest. Men turned with\nall energy to the political and economic interests of a wholly modern\ncivilisation. They retained, after a short period of friction, a smug\nand latitudinarian orthodoxy, which Methodism did little to change. In\nFrance not only was the Huguenot Church annihilated, but the Jansenist\nmovement was savagely suppressed. The tyranny of the Bourbon State and\nthe corruption of the Gallican Church which was so deeply identified\nwith it caused the rationalist movement to bear the trait of a\npassionate opposition to religion. In the time of Pascal, Jansenism had\na moment when it bade fair to be to France what pietism was to Germany.\nLater, in the anguish and isolation of the conflict the movement lost\nits poise and intellectual quality. In Germany, even after the temporary\nalliance of pietism and rationalism against the Church had been\ntranscended, and the length and breadth of their mutual antagonism had\nbeen revealed, there remained a deep mutual respect and salutary\ninteraction. Obscurantists and sentimentalists might denounce\nrationalism. Vulgar ranters like Dippel and Barth might defame religion.\nThat had little weight as compared with the fact that Klopstock, Hamann\nand Herder, Jacobi, Goethe and Jean Paul, had all passed at some time\nunder the influence of pietism. Lessing learned from the Moravians the\nundogmatic essence of religion. Schleiermacher was bred among the\ndevoted followers of Zinzendorf. Even the radicalism of Kant retained\nfrom the teaching of his pietistic youth the stringency of its ethic,\nthe sense of the radical evil of human nature and of the categorical\nimperative of duty. It would be hard to find anything to surpass his\ntestimony to the purity of character and spirit of his parents, or the\nbeauty of the home life in which he was bred. Such facts as these made\nthemselves felt both in the philosophy and in the poetry of the age. The\nrationalist movement itself came to have an ethical and spiritual trait.\nThe triviality, the morbidness and superstition of pietism received\ntheir just condemnation. But among the leaders of the nation in every\nwalk of life were some who felt the drawing to deal with ethical and\nreligious problems in the untrammelled fashion which the century had\ntaught.\n\nWe may be permitted to try to show the meaning of pietism by a concrete\nexample. No one can read the correspondence between the youthful\nSchleiermacher and his loving but mistaken father, or again, the\nlifelong correspondence of Schleiermacher with his sister, without\nreceiving, if he has any religion of his own, a touching impression of\nwhat the pietistic religion meant. The father had long before, unknown\nto the son, passed through the torments of the rational assault upon a\nfaith which was sacred to him. He had preached, through years, in the\nmisery of contradiction with himself. He had rescued his drowning soul\nin the ark of the most intolerant confessional orthodoxy. In the crisis\nof his son's life he pitiably concealed these facts. They should have\nbeen the bond of sympathy. The son, a sorrowful little motherless boy,\nwas sent to the Moravian school at Niesky, and then to Barby. He was to\nescape the contamination of the universities, and the woes through which\nhis father had passed. Even there the spirit of the age pursued him. The\nprecocious lad, in his loneliness, raised every question which the race\nwas wrestling with. He long concealed these facts, dreading to wound the\nman he so revered. Then in a burst of filial candour, he threw himself\nupon his father's mercy, only to be abused and measurelessly condemned.\nHe had his way. He resorted to Halle, turned his back on sacred things,\nworked in titanic fashion at everything but the problem of religion. At\nleast he kept his life clean and his soul sensitive among the flagrantly\nimmoral who were all about him, even in the pietists' own university. He\nlaid the foundations for his future philosophical construction. He\nbathed in the sentiments and sympathies, poetic, artistic and\nhumanitarian, of the romanticist movement. In his early Berlin period he\nwas almost swept from his feet by its flood. He rescued himself,\nhowever, by his rationalism and romanticism into a breadth and power of\nfaith which made him the prophet of the new age. By him, for a\ngeneration, men like-minded saved their souls. As one reads, one\nrealises that it was the pietists' religion which saved him, and which,\nin another sense, he saved. His recollections of his instruction among\nthe Herrnhuter are full of beauty and pathos. His sister never advanced\na step upon the long road which he travelled. Yet his sympathy with her\nremained unimpaired. The two poles of the life of the age are visible\nhere. The episode, full of exquisite personal charm, is a veritable\nminiature of the first fifty years of the movement which we have to\nrecord. No one did for England or for France what Schleiermacher had\ndone for the Fatherland.\n\n\nAEsthetic Idealism\n\n\nBesides pietism, the Germany of the end of the eighteenth century\npossessed still another foil and counterpoise to its decadent\nrationalism. This was the so-called aesthetic-idealistic movement, which\nshades off into romanticism. The debt of Schleiermacher to that movement\nhas been already hinted at. It was the revolt of those who had this in\ncommon with the pietists, that they hated and despised the outworn\nrationalism. They thought they wanted no religion. It is open to us to\nsay that they misunderstood religion. It was this misunderstanding which\nSchleiermacher sought to bring home to them. What religion they\nunderstood, ecclesiasticism, Roman or Lutheran, or again, the banalities\nand fanaticisms of middle-class pietism, they despised. Their war with\nrationalism was not because it had deprived man of religion. It had been\nequally destructive of another side of the life of feeling, the\naesthetic. Their war was not on behalf of the good, it was in the name of\nthe beautiful. Rationalism had starved the soul, it had minimised and\nderided feeling. It had suppressed emotion. It had been fatal to art. It\nwas barren of poetry. It had had no sympathy with history and no\nunderstanding of history. It had reduced everything to the process by\nwhich two and two make four. The pietists said that the frenzy for\nreason had made man oblivious of the element of the divine. The aesthetic\nidealists said that it had been fatal to the element of the human. From\nthis point of view their movement has been called the new humanism. The\nglamour of life was gone, they said. Mystery had vanished. And mystery\nis the womb of every art. Rationalism had been absolutely uncreative,\nonly and always destructive. Rousseau had earlier uttered this wail in\nFrance, and had greatly influenced certain minds in Germany. Shelley and\nKeats were saying something of the sort in England. Even as to\nWordsworth, it may be an open question if his religion was not mainly\nromanticism. All these men used language which had been conventionally\nassociated with religion, to describe this other emotion.\n\nRationalism had ended in proving deadly to ideals. This was true. But\nmen forgot for the moment how glorious an ideal it had once been to be\nrational and to assert the rationality of the universe. Still the time\nhad come when, in Germany at all events, the great cry was, 'back to the\nideal.' It is curious that men always cry 'back' when they mean\n'forward.' For it was not the old idealism, either religious or\naesthetic, which they were seeking. It was a new one in which the sober\nfruits of rationalism should find place. Still, for the moment, as we\nhave seen, the air was full of the cry, 'back to the State by divine\nright, back to the Church, back to the Middle Age, back to the beauty of\nclassical antiquity.' The poetry, the romance, the artistic criticism of\nthis movement set themselves free at a stroke from theological bondage\nand from the externality of conventional ethics. It shook off the dust\nof the doctrinaires. It ridiculed the petty utilitarianism which had\nbeen the vogue. It had such an horizon as men had never dreamed before.\nIt owed that horizon to the rationalism it despised. From its new\nelevation it surveyed all the great elements of the life of man. It saw\nmorals and religion, language and society, along with art and itself, as\nthe free and unconscious product through the ages, of the vitality of\nthe human spirit. It must be said that it neither solved nor put away\nthe ancient questions. Especially through its one-sided aestheticism it\nveiled that element of dualism in the world which Kant clearly saw, and\nwe now see again, after a century which has sometimes leaned to easy\npantheism. However, it led to a study of the human soul and of all its\nactivities, which came closer to living nature than anything which the\nworld had yet seen.\n\nTo this group of aesthetic idealists belong, not to mention lesser names,\nLessing and Hamann and Winckelmann, but above all Herder and Goethe.\nHerder was surely the finest spirit among the elder contemporaries of\nGoethe. Bitterly hostile to the rationalists, he had been moved by\nRousseau to enthusiasm for the free creative life of the human spirit.\nWith Lessing he felt the worth of every art in and for itself, and the\ngreatness of life in its own fulfilment. He sets out from the analysis\nof the poetic and artistic powers, the appreciation of which seemed to\nhim to be the key to the understanding of the spiritual world. Then\nfirst he approaches the analysis of the ethical and religious feeling.\nAll the knowledge and insight thus gained he gathers together into a\nhistory of the spiritual life of mankind. This life of the human spirit\ncomes forth everywhere from nature, is bound to nature. It constitutes\none whole with a nature which the devout soul calls God, and apprehends\nwithin itself as the secret of all that it is and does. Even in the\nperiod in which he had become passionately Christian, Herder never was\nable to attain to a scientific establishing of his Christianity, or to\nany sense of the specific aim of its development. He felt himself to be\nseparated from Kant by an impassable gulf. All the sharp antinomies\namong which Kant moved, contrasts of that which is sensuous with that\nwhich is reasonable, of experience with pure conception, of substance\nand form in thought, of nature and freedom, of inclination and duty,\nseemed to Herder grossly exaggerated, if not absolutely false. Sometimes\nHerder speaks as if the end of life were simply the happiness which a\nman gets out of the use of all his powers and out of the mere fact of\nexistence. Deeper is Kant's contention, that the true aim of life can be\nonly moral culture, even independent of happiness, or rather one must\nfind his noblest happiness in that moral culture.\n\nAt a period in his life when Herder had undergone conversion to court\northodoxy at Bueckeburg and threatened to throw away that for which his\nlife had stood, he was greatly helped by Goethe. The identification of\nHerder with Christianity continued to be more deep and direct than that\nof Goethe ever became, yet Goethe has also his measure of significance\nfor our theme. If he steadied Herder in his religious experience, he\nsteadied others in their poetical emotionalism and artistic\nsentimentality, which were fast becoming vices of the time. The classic\nrepose of his spirit, his apparently unconscious illustration of the\nancient maxim, 'nothing too much,' was the more remarkable, because\nthere were few influences in the whole gamut of human life to which he\ndid not sooner or later surrender himself, few experiences which he did\nnot seek, few areas of thought upon which he did not enter. Systems and\ntheories were never much to his mind. A fact, even if it were\ninexplicable, interested him much more. To the evolution of formal\nthought in his age he held himself receptive rather than directing. He\nkept, to the last, his own manner of brooding and creating, within the\nlimits of a poetic impressionableness which instinctively viewed the\nmaterial world and the life of the soul in substantially similar\nfashion. There is something almost humorous in the way in which he\neagerly appropriated the results of the philosophising of his time, in\nso far as he could use these to sustain his own positions, and\ncaustically rejected those which he could not thus use. He soon got by\nheart the negative lessons of Voltaire and found, to use the words which\nhe puts into the mouth of Faust, that while it freed him from his\nsuperstitions, at the same time it made the world empty and dismal\nbeyond endurance. In the mechanical philosophy which presented itself in\nthe _Systeme de la Nature_ as a positive substitute for his lost faith,\nhe found only that which filled his poet's soul with horror. 'It\nappeared to us,' he says, 'so grey, so cimmerian and so dead that we\nshuddered at it as at a ghost. We thought it the very quintessence of\nold age. All was said to be necessary, and therefore there was no God.\nWhy not a necessity for a God to take its place among the other\nnecessities!' On the other hand, the ordinary teleological theology,\nwith its external architect of the world and its externally determined\ndesigns, could not seem to Goethe more satisfactory than the mechanical\nphilosophy. He joined for a time in Rousseau's cry for the return to\nnature. But Goethe was far too well balanced not to perceive that such a\ncry may be the expression of a very artificial and sophisticated state\nof mind. It begins indeed in the desire to throw off that which is\nreally oppressive. It ends in a fretful and reckless revolt against the\nmost necessary conditions of human life. Goethe lived long enough to see\nin France that dissolution of all authority, whether of State or Church,\nfor which Rousseau had pined. He saw it result in the return of a\nportion of mankind to what we now believe to have been their primitive\nstate, a state in which they were 'red in tooth and claw.' It was not\nthat paradisaic state of love and innocence, which, curiously enough,\nboth Rousseau and the theologians seem to have imagined was the\nprimitive state.\n\nThe thought of the discipline and renunciation of our lower nature in\norder to the realisation of a higher nature of mankind is written upon\nthe very face of the second part of _Faust_. Certain passages in\n_Dichtung_ and _Wahrheit_ are even more familiar. 'Our physical as well\nas our social life, morality, custom, knowledge of the world,\nphilosophy, religion, even many an accidental occurrence in our daily\nlife, all tell us that we must renounce.' 'Renunciation, once for all,\nin view of the eternal,' that was the lesson which he said made him feel\nan atmosphere of peace breathed upon him. He perceived the supreme moral\nprominence of certain Christian ideas, especially that of the atonement\nas he interpreted it. 'It is altogether strange to me,' he writes to\nJacobi, 'that I, an old heathen, should see the cross planted in my own\ngarden, and hear Christ's blood preached without its offending me.'\n\nGoethe's quarrel with Christianity was due to two causes. In the first\nplace, it was due to his viewing Christianity as mainly, if not\nexclusively, a religion of the other world, as it has been called, a\nreligion whose God is not the principle of all life and nature and for\nwhich nature and life are not divine. In the second place, it was due to\nthe prominence of the negative or ascetic element in Christianity as\ncommonly presented, to the fact that in that presentation the law of\nself-sacrifice bore no relation to the law of self-realisation. In both\nof these respects he would have found himself much more at home with the\napprehension of Christianity which we have inherited from the nineteenth\ncentury. The programme of charity which he outlines in the _Wanderjahre_\nas a substitute for religion would be taken to-day, so far as it goes,\nas a rather moderate expression of the very spirit of the Christian\nreligion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nIDEALISTIC PHILOSOPHY\n\n\nThe causes which we have named, religious and aesthetic, as well as\npurely speculative, led to such a revision of philosophical principles\nin Germany as took place in no other land. The new idealistic\nphilosophy, as it took shape primarily at the hands of Kant, completed\nthe dissolution of the old rationalism. It laid the foundation for the\nspeculative thought of the western world for the century which was to\ncome. The answers which aestheticism and pietism gave to rationalism were\nincomplete. They consisted largely in calling attention to that which\nrationalism had overlooked. Kant's idealism, however, met the\nintellectual movement on its own grounds. It triumphed over it with its\nown weapons. The others set feeling over against thought. He taught men\na new method in thinking. The others put emotion over against reason. He\ncriticised in drastic fashion the use which had been made of reason. He\ninquired into the nature of reason. He vindicated the reasonableness of\nsome truths which men had indeed felt to be indefeasibly true, but which\nthey had not been able to establish by reasoning.\n\n\nKANT\n\n\nImmanuel Kant was born in 1724 in Koenigsberg, possibly of remoter\nScottish ancestry. His father was a saddler, as Melanchthon's had been\nan armourer and Wolff's a tanner. His native city with its university\nwas the scene of his whole life and labour. He was never outside of\nPrussia except for a brief interval when Koenigsberg belonged to Russia.\nHe was a German professor of the old style. Studying, teaching, writing\nbooks, these were his whole existence. He was the fourth of nine\nchildren of a devoted pietist household. Two of his sisters served in\nthe houses of friends. The consistorial-rath opened the way to the\nuniversity. An uncle aided him to publish his first books. His earlier\ninterest was in the natural sciences. He was slow in coming to\npromotion. Only after 1770 was he full professor of logic and\nmetaphysics. In 1781 he published the first of the books upon which\nrests his world-wide fame. Nevertheless, he lived to see the triumph of\nhis philosophy in most of the German universities. His subjects are\nabstruse, his style involved. It never occurred to him to make the\ntreatment of his themes easier by use of the imagination. He had but a\nmodicum of that quality. He was hostile to the pride of intellect often\nmanifested by petty rationalists. He was almost equally hostile to\nexcessive enthusiasm in religion. The note of his life, apart from his\nintellectual power, was his ethical seriousness. He was in conflict with\necclesiastical personages and out of sympathy with much of institutional\nreligion. None the less, he was in his own way one of the most religious\nof men. His brief conflict with Woellner's government was the only\ninstance in which his peace and public honour were disturbed. He never\nmarried. He died in Koenigsberg in 1804. He had been for ten years so\nmuch enfeebled that his death was a merciful release.\n\nKant used the word 'critique' so often that his philosophy has been\ncalled the 'critical philosophy.' The word therefore needs an\nexplanation. Kant himself distinguished two types of philosophy, which\nhe called the dogmatic and critical types. The essence of a dogmatic\nphilosophy is that it makes belief to rest upon knowledge. Its endeavour\nis to demonstrate that which is believed. It brings out as its foil the\ncharacteristically sceptical philosophy. This esteems that the proofs\nadvanced in the interest of belief are inadequate. The belief itself is\ntherefore an illusion. The essence of a critical philosophy, on the\nother hand, consists in this, that it makes a distinction between the\nfunctions of knowing and believing. It distinguishes between the\nperception of that which is in accordance with natural law and the\nunderstanding of the moral meaning of things.[3] Kant thus uses his word\ncritique in accordance with the strict etymological meaning of the root.\nHe seeks to make a clear separation between the provinces of belief and\nknowledge, and thus to find an adjustment of their claims. Of an object\nof belief we may indeed say that we know it. Yet we must make clear to\nourselves that we know it in a different sense from that in which we\nknow physical fact. Faith, since it does not spring from the pure\nreason, cannot indeed, as the old dogmatisms, both philosophical and\ntheological, have united in asserting, be demonstrated by the reason.\nEqually it cannot, as scepticism has declared, be overthrown by the pure\nreason.\n\nThe ancient positive dogmatism had been the idealistic philosophy of\nPlato and Aristotle. The old negative dogmatism had been the materialism\nof the Epicureans. To Plato the world was the realisation of ideas.\nIdeas, spiritual entities, were the counterparts and necessary\nantecedents of the natural objects and actual facts of life. To the\nEpicureans, on the other hand, there are only material bodies and\nnatural laws. There are no ideas or purposes. In the footsteps of the\nformer moved all the scholastics of the Middle Age, and again, even\nLocke and Leibnitz in their so-called 'natural theology.' In the\nfootsteps of the latter moved the men who had made materialism and\nscepticism to be the dominant philosophy of France in the latter half of\nthe eighteenth century. The aim of Kant was to resolve this age-long\ncontradiction. Free, unprejudiced investigation of the facts and laws of\nthe phenomenal world can never touch the foundations of faith. Natural\nscience can lead in the knowledge only of the realm of the laws of\nthings. It cannot give us the inner moral sense of those things. To\nspeak of the purposes of nature as men had done was absurd. Natural\ntheology, as men had talked of it, was impossible. What science can give\nis a knowledge of the facts about us in the world, of the growth of the\ncosmos, of the development of life, of the course of history, all viewed\nas necessary sequences of cause and effect.\n\n[Footnote 3: Paulsen, _Kant_, a. 2.]\n\nOn the other hand, with the idealists, Kant is fully persuaded that\nthere is a meaning in things and that we can know it. There is a sense\nin life. With immediate certainty we set moral good as the absolute aim\nin life. This is done, however, not through the pure reason or by\nscientific thinking, but primarily through the will, or as Kant prefers\nto call it, the practical reason. What is meant by the practical reason\nis the intelligence, the will and the affections operating together;\nthat is to say, the whole man and not merely his intellect, directed to\nthose problems upon which, in sympathy and moral reaction, the whole man\nmust be directed and upon which the pure reason, the mere faculty of\nratiocination, does not adequately operate. In the practical reason the\nwill is the central thing. The will is that faculty of man to which\nmoral magnitudes appeal. It is with moral magnitudes that the will is\nprimarily concerned. The pure reason may operate without the will and\nthe affections. The will, as a source of knowledge, never works without\nthe intelligence and the affections. But it is the will which alone\njudges according to the predicates good and evil. The pure reason judges\naccording to the predicates true and false. It is the practical reason\nwhich ventures the credence that moral worth is the supreme worth in\nlife. It then confirms this ventured credence in a manifold experience\nthat yields a certainty with which no certainty of objects given in the\nsenses is for a moment to be compared. We know that which we have\nbelieved. We know it as well as that two and two make four. Still we do\nnot know it in the same way. Nor can we bring knowledge of it to others\nsave through an act of freedom on their part, which is parallel to the\noriginal act of freedom on our own part.\n\nHow can these two modes of thought stand related the one to the other?\nKant's answer is that they correspond to the distinction between two\nworlds, the world of sense and the transcendental or supersensible\nworld. The pure and the practical reason are the faculties of man for\ndealing with these two worlds respectively, the phenomenal and the\nnoumenal. The world which is the object of scientific investigation is\nnot the actuality itself. This is true in spite of the fact that to the\ncommon man the material and sensible is always, as he would say, the\nreal. On the contrary, in Kant's opinion the material world is only the\npresentation to our senses of something deeper, of which our senses are\nno judge. The reality lies behind this sensible presentation and\nappearance. The world of religious belief is the world of this\ntranscendent reality. The spirit of man, which is not pure reason only,\nbut moral will as well, recognises itself also as part of this reality.\nIt expresses the essence of that mysterious reality in terms of its own\nessence. Its own essence as free spirit is the highest aspect of reality\nof which it is aware. It may be unconscious of the symbolic nature of\nits language in describing that which is higher than anything which we\nknow, by the highest which we do know. Yet, granting that, and supposing\nthat it is not a contradiction to attempt a description of the\ntranscendent at all, there is no description which carries us so far.\n\nThis series of ideas was perhaps that which gave to Kant's philosophy\nits immediate and immense effect upon the minds of men wearied with the\nendless strife and insoluble contradiction of the dogmatic and sceptical\nspirits. We may disagree with much else in the Kantian system. Even here\nwe may say that we have not two reasons, but only two functionings of\none. We have not two worlds. The philosophical myth of two worlds has no\nbetter standing than the religious myth of two worlds. We have two\ncharacteristic aspects of one and the same world. These perfectly\ninterpenetrate the one the other, if we may help ourselves with the\nlanguage of space. Each is everywhere present. Furthermore, these\nactions of reason and aspects of world shade into one another by\nimperceptible degrees. Almost all functionings of reason have something\nof the qualities of both. However, when all is said, it was of greatest\nworth to have had these two opposite poles of thought brought clearly to\nmind. The dogmatists, in the interest of faith, were resisting at every\nstep the progress of the sciences, feeling that that progress was\ninimical to faith. The devotees of science were saying that its\nprocesses were of universal validity, its conclusions irresistible, the\ngradual dissolution of faith was certain. Kant made plain that neither\nparty had the right to such conclusions. Each was attempting to apply\nthe processes appropriate to one form of rational activity within the\nsphere which belonged to the other. Nothing but confusion could result.\nThe religious man has no reason to be jealous of the advance of the\nsciences. The interests of faith itself are furthered by such\ninvestigation. Illusions as to fact which have been mistakenly\nidentified with faith are thus done away. Nevertheless, its own eternal\nright is assured to faith. With it lies the interpretation of the facts\nof nature and of history, whatever those facts may be found to be. With\nthe practical reason is the interpretation of these facts according to\ntheir moral worth, a worth of which the pure reason knows nothing and\nscientific investigation reveals nothing.\n\nHere was a deliverance not unlike that which the Reformation had\nbrought. The mingling of Aristotelianism and religion in the scholastic\ntheology Luther had assailed. Instead of assent to human dogmas Luther\nhad the immediate assurance of the heart that God was on his side. And\nwhat is that but a judgment of the practical reason, the response of the\nheart in man to the spiritual universe? It is given in experience. It is\nnot mediated by argument. It cannot be destroyed by syllogism. It needs\nno confirmation from science. It is capable of combination with any of\nthe changing interpretations which science may put upon the outward\nuniverse. The Reformation had, however, not held fast to its great\ntruth. It had gone back to the old scholastic position. It had rested\nfaith in an essentially rationalistic manner upon supposed facts in\nnature and alleged events of history in connection with the revelation.\nIt had thus jeopardised the whole content of faith, should these\nsupposed facts of nature or events in history be at any time disproved.\nMen had made faith to rest upon statements of Scripture, alleging such\nand such acts and events. They did not recognise these as the naive and\nchildlike assumptions concerning nature and history which the authors of\nScripture would naturally have. When, therefore, these statements began\nwith the progress of the sciences to be disproved, the defenders of the\nfaith presented always the feeble spectacle of being driven from one\nform of evidence to another, as the old were in turn destroyed. The\nassumption was rife at the end of the eighteenth century that\nChristianity was discredited in the minds of all free and reasonable\nmen. Its tenets were incompatible with that which enlightened men\ninfallibly knew to be true. It could be no long time until the\nhollowness and sham would be patent to all. Even the interested and the\nignorant would be compelled to give it up. Of course, the invincibly\ndevout in every nation felt of instinct that this was not true. They\nfelt that there is an inexpugnable truth of religion. Still that was\nmerely an intuition of their hearts. They were right. But they were\nunable to prove that they were right, or even to get a hearing with many\nof the cultivated of their age. To Kant we owe the debt, that he put an\nend to this state of things. He made the real evidence for religion that\nof the moral sense, of the nonscience and hearts of men themselves. The\nreal ground of religious conviction is the religious experience. He thus\nset free both science and religion from an embarrassment under which\nboth laboured, and by which both had been injured.\n\nKant parted company with the empirical philosophy which had held that\nall knowledge arises from without, comes from experienced sensations, is\nessentially perception. This theory had not been able to explain the\nfact that human experience always conforms to certain laws. On the other\nhand, the philosophy of so-called innate ideas had sought to derive all\nknowledge from the constitution of the mind itself. It left out of\nconsideration the dependence of the mind upon experience. It tended to\nconfound the creations of its own speculation with reality, or rather,\nto claim correspondence with fact for statements which had no warrant in\nexperience. There was no limit to which this speculative process might\nnot be pushed. By this process the medieval theologians, with all\ngravity, propounded the most absurd speculations concerning nature. By\nthis process men made the most astonishing declarations upon the basis,\nas they supposed, of revelation. They made allegations concerning\nhistory and the religious experience which the most rudimentary\nknowledge of history or reflection upon consciousness proved to be quite\ncontrary to fact.\n\nBoth empiricism and the theory of innate ideas had agreed in regarding\nall knowledge as something given, from without or from within. The\nknowing mind was only a passive recipient of impressions thus imparted\nto it. It was as wax under the stylus, _tabula rasa_, clean paper\nwaiting to be written upon. Kant departed from this radically. He\ndeclared that all cognition rests upon the union of the mind's activity\nwith its receptivity. The material of thought, or at least some of the\nmaterials of thought, must be given us in the multiformity of our\nperceptions, through what we call experience from the outer world. On\nthe other hand, the formation of this material into knowledge is the\nwork of the activity of our own minds. Knowledge is the result of the\nsystematising of experience and of reflection upon it. This activity of\nthe mind takes place always in accordance with the mind's own laws. Kant\nheld them to the absolute dependence of knowledge upon material applied\nin experience. He compared himself to Copernicus who had taught men that\nthey themselves revolved around a central fact of the universe. They had\nsupposed that the facts revolved about them. The central fact of the\nintellectual world is experience. This experience seems to be given us\nin the forms of time and space and cause. These are merely forms of the\nmind's own activity. It is not possible for us to know 'the thing in\nitself,' the _Ding an sich_ in Kant's phrase, which is the external\nfactor in any sensation or perception. We cannot distinguish that\nexternal factor from the contribution to it, as it stands in our\nperception, which our own minds have made. If we cannot do that even for\nourselves, how much less can we do it for others! It is the subject, the\nthinking being who says 'I,' which, by means of its characteristic and\nnecessary active processes, in the perception of things under the forms\nof time and space, converts the chaotic material of knowledge into a\nregular and ordered world of reasoned experience. In this sense the\nunderstanding itself imposes laws, if not upon nature, yet, at least,\nupon nature as we can ever know it. There is thus in Kant's philosophy a\nsceptical aspect. Knowledge is limited to phenomena. We cannot by pure\nreason know anything of the world which lies beyond experience. This\nthought had been put forth by Locke and Berkeley, and by Hume also, in a\ndifferent way. But with Kant this scepticism was not the gist of his\nphilosophy. It was urged rather as the basis of the unconditioned\ncharacter which he proposed to assert for the practical reason. Kant's\nscepticism is therefore very different from that of Hume. It does not\nmilitate against the profoundest religious conviction. Yet it prepared\nthe way for some of the just claims of modern agnosticism.\n\nAccording to Kant, it is as much the province of the practical reason to\nlay down laws for action as it is the province of pure reason to\ndetermine the conditions of thought, though the practical reason can\ndefine only the form of action which shall be in the spirit of duty. It\ncannot present duty to us as an object of desire. Desire can be only a\nform of self-love. In the end it reckons with the advantage of having\ndone one's duty. It thus becomes selfish and degraded. The\nidentification of duty and interest was particularly offensive to Kant.\nHe was at war with every form of hedonism. To do one's duty because one\nexpects to reap advantage is not to have done one's duty. The doing of\nduty in this spirit simply resolves itself into a subtler and more\npervasive form of selfishness. He castigates the popular presentation of\nreligion as fostering this same fault. On the other hand, there is a\ntrait of rigorism in Kant, a survival of the ancient dualism, which was\nnot altogether consistent with the implications of his own philosophy.\nThis philosophy afforded, as we have seen, the basis for a monistic view\nof the universe. But to his mind the natural inclinations of man are\nopposed to good conscience and sound reason. He had contempt for the\nshallow optimism of his time, according to which the nature of man was\nall good, and needed only to be allowed to run its natural course to\nproduce highest ethical results. He does not seem to have penetrated to\nthe root of Rousseau's fallacy, the double sense in which he constantly\nused the words 'nature' and 'natural.' Otherwise, Kant would have been\nable to repudiate the preposterous doctrine of Rousseau, without himself\nfalling back upon the doctrine of the radical evil of human nature. In\nthis doctrine he is practically at one with the popular teaching of his\nown pietistic background, and with Calvinism as it prevailed with many\nof the religiously-minded of his day. In its extreme statements the\nlatter reminds one of the pagan and oriental dualisms which so long ran\nparallel to the development of Christian thought and so profoundly\ninfluenced it.\n\nKant's system is not at one with itself at this point. According to him\nthe natural inclinations of men are such as to produce a never-ending\nstruggle between duty and desire. To desire to do a thing made him\nsuspicious that he was not actuated by the pure spirit of duty in doing\nit. The sense in which man may be in his nature both a child of God,\nand, at the same time, part of the great complex of nature, was not yet\nclear either to Kant or to his opponents. His pessimism was a reflection\nof his moral seriousness. Yet it failed to reckon with that which is yet\na glorious fact. One of the chief results of doing one's duty is the\ngradual escape from the desire to do the contrary. It is the gradual\nfostering by us, the ultimate dominance in us, of the desire to do that\nduty. Even to have seen one's duty is the dawning in us of this high\ndesire. In the lowest man there is indeed the superficial desire to\nindulge his passions. There is also the latent longing to be conformed\nto the good. There is the sense that he fulfils himself then only when\nhe is obedient to the good. One of the great facts of spiritual\nexperience is this gradual, or even sudden, inversion of standard within\nus. We do really cease to desire the things which are against right\nreason and conscience. We come to desire the good, even if it shall cost\nus pain and sacrifice to do it. Paul could write: 'When I would do good,\nevil is present with me.' But, in the vividness of his identification of\nhis willing self with his better self against his sinning self, he could\nalso write: 'So then it is no more I that do the sin.' _Das radicale\nBoese_ of human nature is less radical than Kant supposed, and 'the\ncategorical imperative' of duty less externally categorical than he\nalleged. Still it is the great merit of Kant's philosophy to have\nbrought out with all possible emphasis, not merely as against the\noptimism of the shallow, but as against the hedonism of soberer people,\nthat our life is a conflict between inclination and duty. The claims of\nduty are the higher ones. They are mandatory, absolute. We do our duty\nwhether or not we superficially desire to do it. We do our duty whether\nor not we foresee advantage in having done it. We should do it if we\nforesaw with clearness disadvantage. We should find our satisfaction in\nhaving done it, even at the cost of all our other satisfactions. There\nis a must which is over and above all our desires. This is what Kant\nreally means by the categorical imperative. Nevertheless, his statement\ncomes in conflict with the principle of freedom, which is one of the\nmost fundamental in his system. The phrases above used only eddy about\nthe one point which is to be held fast. There may be that in the\nuniverse which destroys the man who does not conform to it, but in the\nlast analysis he is self-destroyed, that is, he chooses not to conform.\nIf he is saved, it is because he chooses thus to conform. Man would be\nthen most truly man in resisting that which would merely overpower him,\neven if it were goodness. Of course, there can be no goodness which\noverpowers. There can be no goodness which is not willed. Nothing can be\na motive except through awakening our desire. That which one desires is\nnever wholly external to oneself.\n\nAccording to Kant, morality becomes religion when that which the former\nshows to be the end of man is conceived also to be the end of the\nsupreme law-giver, God. Religion is the recognition of our duties as\ndivine commands. The distinction between revealed and natural religion\nis stated thus: In the former we know a thing to be a divine command\nbefore we recognise it as our duty. In the latter we know it to be our\nduty before we recognise it as a divine command. Religion may be both\nnatural and revealed. Its tenets may be such that man can be conceived\nas arriving at them by unaided reason. But he would thus have arrived at\nthem at a later period in the evolution of the race. Hence revelation\nmight be salutary or even necessary for certain times and places without\nbeing essential at all times or, for that matter, a permanent guarantee\nof the truth of religion. There is nothing here which is new or original\nwith Kant. This line of reasoning was one by which men since Lessing had\nhelped themselves over certain difficulties. It is cited only to show\nhow Kant, too, failed to transcend his age in some matters, although he\nso splendidly transcended it in others.\n\nThe orthodox had immemorially asserted that revelation imparted\ninformation not otherwise attainable, or not then attainable. The\nrationalists here allege the same. Kant is held fast in this view.\nAssuredly what revelation imparts is not information of any sort\nwhatsoever, not even information concerning God. What revelation imparts\nis God himself, through the will and the affection, the practical\nreason. Revelation is experience, not instruction. The revealers are\nthose who have experienced God, Jesus the foremost among them. They have\nexperienced God, whom then they have manifested as best they could, but\nfar more significantly in what they were than in what they said. There\nis surely the gravest exaggeration of what is statutory and external in\nthat which Kant says of the relation of ethics and religion. How can we\nknow that to be a command of God, which does not commend itself in our\nown heart and conscience? The traditionalist would have said, by\ndocuments miraculously confirmed. It was not in consonance with his\nnoblest ideas for Kant to say that. On the other hand, that which I\nperceive to be my duty I, as religious man, feel to be a command of God,\nwhether or not a mandate of God to that effect can be adduced. Whether\nan alleged revelation from God inculcates such a truth or duty may be\nincidental. In a sense it is accidental. The content of all historic\nrevelation is conditioned in the circumstances of the man to whom the\nrevelation is addressed. It is clear that the whole matter of revelation\nis thus apprehended by Kant with more externality than we should have\nbelieved. His thought is still essentially archaic and dualistic. He is,\ntherefore, now and then upon the point of denying that such a thing as\nrevelation is possible. The very idea of revelation, in this form, does\nviolence to his fundamental principle of the autonomy of the human\nreason and will. At many points in his reflection it is transparently\nclear that nothing can ever come to a man, or be given forth by him,\nwhich is not creatively shaped by himself. As regards revelation,\nhowever, Kant never frankly took that step. The implications of his own\nsystem would have led him to that step. They led to an idea of\nrevelation which was psychologically in harmony with the assumptions of\nhis system, and historically could be conceived as taking place without\nthe interjection of the miraculous in the ordinary sense. If the divine\nrevelation is to be thought as taking place within the human spirit, and\nin consonance with the laws of all other experience, then the human\nspirit must itself be conceived as standing in such relation to the\ndivine that the eternal reason may express and reveal itself in the\nregular course of the mind's own activity. Then the manifold moral and\nreligious ideals of mankind in all history must take their place as\nintegral factors also in the progress of the divine revelation.\n\nWhen we come to the more specific topics of his religious teaching,\nfreedom, immortality, God, Kant is prompt to assert that these cannot be\nobjects of theoretical knowledge. Insoluble contradictions arise\nwhenever a proof of them is attempted. If an object of faith could be\ndemonstrated it would cease to be an object of faith. It would have been\nbrought down out of the transcendental world. Were God to us an object\namong other objects, he would cease to be a God. Were the soul a\ndemonstrable object like any other object, it would cease to be the\ntranscendental aspect of ourselves. Kant makes short work of the\nso-called proofs for the existence of God which had done duty in the\nscholastic theology. With subtilty, sometimes also with bitter irony, he\nshows that they one and all assume that which they set out to prove.\nThey are theoretically insufficient and practically unnecessary. They\nhave such high-sounding names--the ontological argument, the\ncosmological, the physico-theological--that almost in spite of ourselves\nwe bring a reverential mood to them. They have been set forth with\nsolemnity by such redoubtable thinkers that there is something almost\nstartling in the way that Kant knocks them about. The fact that the\nordinary man among us easily perceives that Kant was right shows only\nhow the climate of the intellectual world has changed. Freedom,\nimmortality, God, are not indeed provable. If given at all, they can be\ngiven only in the practical reason. Still they are postulates in the\nmoral order which makes man the citizen of an intelligible world. There\ncan be no 'ought' for a being who is necessitated. We can perceive, and\ndo perceive, that we ought to do a thing. It follows that we can do it.\nHowever, the hindrances to the realisation of the moral ideal are such\nthat it cannot be realised in a finite time. Hence the postulate of\neternal life for the individual. Finally, reason demands realisation of\na supreme good, both a perfect virtue and a corresponding happiness. Man\nis a final end only as a moral subject. There must be One who is not\nonly a law-giver, but in himself also the realisation of the law of\nthe moral world.\n\nKant's moral argument thus steps off the line of the others. It is not a\nproof at all in the sense in which they attempted to be proofs. The\nexistence of God appears as a necessary assumption, if the highest good\nand value in the world are to be fulfilled. But the conception and\npossibility of realisation of a highest good is itself something which\ncannot be concluded with theoretical evidentiality. It is the object of\na belief which in entire freedom is directed to that end. Kant lays\nstress upon the fact that among the practical ideas of reason, that of\nfreedom is the one whose reality admits most nearly of being proved by\nthe laws of pure reason, as well as in conduct and experience. Upon an\nact of freedom, then, belief rests. 'It is the free holding that to be\ntrue, which for the fulfilment of a purpose we find necessary.' Now, as\nobject of this 'free holding something to be true,' he sets forth the\nconception of the highest good in the world, to be realised through\nfreedom. It is clear that before this argument would prove that a God is\nnecessary to the realisation of the moral order, it would have to be\nshown that there are no adequate forces immanent within society itself\nfor the establishment and fulfilment of that order. As a matter of fact,\nreflexion in the nineteenth century, devoted as it has been to the\nevolution of society, has busied itself with hardly anything more than\nwith the study of those immanent elements which make for morality. It is\ntherefore not an external guarantor of morals, such as Kant thought,\nwhich is here given. It is the immanent God who is revealed in the\nhistory and life of the race, even as also it is the immanent God who is\nrevealed in the consciousness of the individual soul. Even the moral\nargument, therefore, in the form in which Kant puts it, sounds remote\nand strange to us. His reasoning strains and creaks almost as if he were\nstill trying to do that which he had just declared could not be done.\nWhat remains of significance for us, is this. All the debate about first\ncauses, absolute beings, and the rest, gives us no God such as our souls\nneed. If a man is to find the witness for soul, immortality and God at\nall, he must find it within himself and in the spiritual history of his\nfellows. He must venture, in freedom, the belief in these things, and\nfind their corroboration in the contribution which they make to the\nsolution of the mystery of life. One must venture to win them. One must\ncontinue to venture, to keep them. If it were not so, they would not be\nobjects of faith.\n\nThe source of the radical evil in man is an intelligible act of human\nfreedom not further to be explained. Moral evil is not, as such,\ntransmitted. Moral qualities are inseparable from the responsibility of\nthe person who commits the deeds. Yet this radical disposition to evil\nis to be changed into a good one, not altogether by a process of moral\nreformation. There is such a thing as a fundamental revolution of a\nman's habit of thought, a conscious and voluntary transference of a\nman's intention to obey, from the superficial and selfish desires which\nhe has followed, to the deep and spiritual ones which he will henceforth\nallow. There is an epoch in a man's life when he makes the transition.\nHe probably does it under the spell of personal influence, by the power\nof example, through the beauty of another personality. To Kant salvation\nwas character. It was of and in and by character. To no thinker has the\nmoral participation of a man in the regeneration of his own character\nbeen more certain and necessary than to Kant. Yet, the change in\ndirection of the will generally comes by an impulse from without. It\ncomes by the impress of a noble personality. It is sustained by\nenthusiasm for that personality. Kant has therefore a perfectly rational\nand ethical and vital meaning for the phrase 'new birth.'\n\nFor the purpose of this impulse to goodness, nothing is so effective as\nthe contemplation of an historical example of such surpassing moral\ngrandeur as that which we behold in Jesus. For this reason we may look\nto Jesus as the ideal of goodness presented to us in flesh and blood.\nYet the assertion that Jesus' historical personality altogether\ncorresponds with the complete and eternal ethical ideal is one which we\nhave no need to make. We do not possess in our own minds the absolute\nideal with which in that assertion we compare him.\n\nThe ethical ideal of the race is still in process of development. Jesus\nhas been the greatest factor urging forward that development. We\nourselves stand at a certain point in that development. We have the\nideals which we have because we stand at that point at which we do. The\nmen who come after us will have a worthier ideal than we do. Again, to\nsay that Jesus in his words and conduct expressed in its totality the\neternal ethical ideal, would make of his life something different from\nthe real, human life. Every real, human life is lived within certain\nactual antitheses which call out certain qualities and do not call out\nothers. They demand certain reactions and not others. This is the\nconcrete element without which nothing historical can be conceived. To\nsay that Jesus lived in entire conformity to the ethical ideal so far as\nwe are able to conceive it, and within the circumstances which his own\ntime and place imposed, is the most that we can say. But in any case,\nKant insists, the real object of our religious faith is not the historic\nman, but the ideal of humanity well-pleasing to God. Since this ideal is\nnot of our own creation, but is given us in our super-sensible nature,\nit may be conceived as the Son of God come down from heaven.\n\nThe turn of this last phrase is an absolutely characteristic one, and\nbrings out another quality of Kant's mind in dealing with the Christian\ndoctrines. They are to him but symbols, forms into which a variety of\nmeanings may be run. He had no great appreciation of the historical\nelement in doctrine. He had no deep sense of the social element and of\nthat for which Christian institutions stand. We may illustrate with that\nwhich he says concerning Christ's vicarious sacrifice. Substitution\ncannot take place in the moral world. Ethical salvation could not be\nconferred through such a substitution, even if this could take place.\nStill, the conception of the vicarious suffering of Christ may be taken\nas a symbolical expression of the idea that in the pain of\nself-discipline, of obedience and patience, the new man in us suffers,\nas it were vicariously, for the old. The atonement is a continual\nethical process in the heart of the religious man. It is a grave defect\nof Kant's religious philosophy, that it was so absolutely\nindividualistic. Had he realised more deeply than he did the social\ncharacter of religion and the meaning of these doctrines, not alone as\nbetween man and God, but as between man and man, he surely would have\ndrawn nearer to that interpretation of the doctrine of the atonement\nwhich has come more and more to prevail. This is the solution which\nfinds in the atonement of Christ the last and most glorious example of a\nuniversal law of human life and history. That law is that no redemptive\ngood for men is ever secured without the suffering and sacrifice of\nthose who seek to confer that good upon their fellows. Kant was disposed\nto regard the traditional forms of Christian doctrine, not as the old\nrationalism had done, as impositions of a priesthood or inherently\nabsurd. He sought to divest them indeed of that which was speculatively\nuntrue, though he saw in them only symbols of the great moral truths\nwhich lie at the heart of religion. The historical spirit of the next\nfifty years was to teach men a very different way of dealing with these\nsame doctrines.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nKant had said that the primary condition, fundamental not merely to\nknowledge, but to all connected experience, is the knowing,\nexperiencing, thinking, acting self. It is that which says 'I,' the ego,\nthe permanent subject. But that is not enough. The knowing self demands\nin turn a knowable world. It must have something outside of itself to\nwhich it yet stands related, the object of knowledge. Knowledge is\nsomehow the combination of those two, the result of their co-operation.\nHow have we to think of this co-operation? Both Hume and Berkeley had\nended in scepticism as to the reality of knowledge. Hume was in doubt as\nto the reality of the subject, Berkeley as to that of the object. Kant\ndissented from both. He vindicated the undoubted reality of the\nimpression which we have concerning a thing. Yet how far that impression\nis the reproduction of the thing as it is in itself, we can never\nperfectly know. What we have in our minds is not the object. It is a\nnotion of that object, although we may be assured that we could have no\nsuch notion were there no object. Equally, the notion is what it is\nbecause the subject is what it is. We can never get outside the\nprocesses of our own thought. We cannot know the thing as it is, the\n_Ding-an-sich_, in Kant's phrase. We know only that there must be a\n'thing in itself.'\n\n\nFICHTE\n\n\nFichte asked, Why? Why must there be a _Ding-an-sich_? Why is not that\nalso the result of the activity of the ego? Why is not the ego, the\nthinking subject, all that is, the creator of the world, according to\nthe laws of thought? If so much is reduced to idea, why not all? This\nwas Fichte's rather forced resolution of the old dualism of thought and\nthing. It is not the denial of the reality of things, but the assertion\nthat their ideal element, that part of them which is not mere 'thing,'\nthe action and subject of the action, is their underlying reality.\nAccording to Kant things exist in a world beyond us. Man has no faculty\nby which he can penetrate into that world. Still, the farther we follow\nKant in his analysis the more does the contribution to knowledge from\nthe side of the mind tend to increase, and the more does the factor in\nour impressions from the side of things tend to fade away. This basis of\nimpression being wholly unknowable is as good as non-existent for us.\nYet it never actually disappears. There would seem to be inevitable a\nsort of kernel of matter or prick of sense about which all our thoughts\nare generated. Yet this residue is a vanishing quantity. This seemed to\nFichte to be a self-contradiction and a half-way measure. Only two\npositions appeared to him thorough-going and consequent. Either one\nposits as fundamental the thing itself, matter, independent of any\nconsciousness of it. So Spinoza had taught. Or else one takes\nconsciousness, the conscious subject, independent of any matter or thing\nas fundamental. This last Fichte claimed to be the real issue of Kant's\nthought. He asserts that from the point of view of the thing in itself\nwe can never explain knowledge. We may be as skilful as possible in\nplacing one thing behind another in the relation of cause to effect. It\nis, however, an unending series. It is like the cosmogony of the Eastern\npeople which fabled that the earth rests upon the back of an elephant.\nThe elephant stands upon a tortoise. The question is, upon what does the\ntortoise stand? So here, we may say, in the conclusive manner in which\nmen have always said, that God made the world. Yet sooner or later we\ncome to the child's question: Who made God? Fichte rightly replied: 'If\nGod is for us only an object of knowledge, the _Ding-an-sich_ at the end\nof the series, there is no escape from the answer that man, the thinker,\nin thinking God made him.' All the world, including man, is but the\nreflexion, the revelation in forms of the finite, of an unceasing action\nof thought of which the ego is the object. Nothing more paradoxical than\nthis conclusion can be imagined. It seems to make the human subject, the\nman myself, the creator of the universe, and the universe only that\nwhich I happen to think it to be.\n\nThis interpretation was at first put upon Fichte's reasoning with such\nvigour that he was accused of atheism. He was driven from his chair in\nJena. Only after several years was he called to a corresponding post in\nBerlin. Later, in his _Vocation of Man_, he brought his thought to\nclearness in this form: 'If God be only the object of thought, it\nremains true that he is then but the creation of man's thought. God is,\nhowever, to be understood as subject, as the real subject, the\ntranscendent thinking and knowing subject, indwelling in the world and\nmaking the world what it is, indwelling in us and making us what we are.\nWe ourselves are subjects only in so far as we are parts of God. We\nthink and know only in so far as God thinks and knows and acts and lives\nin us. The world, including ourselves, is but the reflection of the\nthought of God, who thus only has existence. Neither the world nor we\nhave existence apart from him.'\n\nJohann Gottlieb Fichte was born at Rammenau in 1762. His father was a\nribbon weaver. He came of a family distinguished for piety and\nuprightness. He studied at Jena, and became an instructor there in 1793.\nHe was at first a devout disciple of Kant, but gradually separated\nhimself from his master. There is a humorous tale as to one of his early\nbooks which was, through mistake of the publisher, put forth without the\nauthor's name. For a brief time it was hailed as a work of Kant--his\n_Critique of Revelation_. Fichte was a man of high moral enthusiasm,\nvery uncompromising, unable to put himself in the place of an opponent,\nin incessant strife. The great work of his Jena period was his\n_Wissenschaftslehre_, 1794. His popular Works, _Die Bestimmung des\nMenschen_ and _Anweisung zum seligen Leben_, belong to his Berlin\nperiod. The disasters of 1806 drove him out of Berlin. Amidst the\ndangers and discouragements of the next few years he wrote his famous\n_Reden an die deutsche Nation_. He drew up the plan for the founding of\nthe University of Berlin. In 1810 he was called to be rector of the\nnewly established university. He was, perhaps, the chief adviser of\nFrederick William III in the laying of the foundations of the\nuniversity, which was surely a notable venture for those trying years.\nIn the autumn of 1812 and again in 1813, when the hospitals were full of\nsick and wounded after the Russian and Leipzig campaigns, Fichte and his\nwife were unceasing in their care of the sufferers. He died of fever\ncontracted in the hospital in January 1814.\n\nAccording to Fichte, as we have seen, the world of sense is the\nreflection of our own inner activity. It exists for us as the sphere and\nmaterial of our duty. The moral order only is divine. We, the finite\nintelligences, exist only in and through the infinite intelligence. All\nour life is thus God's life. We are immortal because he is immortal. Our\nconsciousness is his consciousness. Our life and moral force is his, the\nreflection and manifestation of his being, individuation of the infinite\nreason which is everywhere present in the finite. In God we see the\nworld also in a new light. There is no longer any nature which is\nexternal to ourselves and unrelated to ourselves. There is only God\nmanifesting himself in nature. Even the evil is only a means to good\nand, therefore, only an apparent evil. We are God's immediate\nmanifestation, being spirit like himself. The world is his mediate\nmanifestation. The world of dead matter, as men have called it, does not\nexist. God is the reality within the forms of nature and within\nourselves, by which alone we have reality. The duty to which a God\noutside of ourselves could only command us, becomes a privilege to which\nwe need no commandment, but to the fulfilment of which, rather, we are\ndrawn in joy by the forces of our own being. How a man could, even in\nthe immature stages of these thoughts, have been persecuted for atheism,\nit is not easy to see, although we may admit that his earlier forms of\nstatement were bewildering. When we have his whole thought before us we\nshould say rather that it borders on acosmic pantheism, for which\neverything is God and the world does not exist.\n\nWe have no need to follow Fichte farther. Suffice it to say, with\nreference to the theory of knowledge, that he had discovered that one\ncould not stand still with Kant. One must either go back toward the\nposition of the old empiricism which assumed the reality of the world\nexactly as it appeared, or else one must go forward to an idealism more\nthorough-going than Kant had planned. Of the two paths which, with all\nthe vast advance of the natural sciences, the thought of the nineteenth\ncentury might traverse, that of the denial of everything except the\nmechanism of nature, and that of the assertion that nature is but the\norgan of spirit and is instinct with reason, Fichte chose the latter and\nblazed out the path along which all the idealists have followed him. In\nreference to the philosophy of religion, we must say that, with all the\nextravagance, the pantheism and mysticism of his phrases, Fichte's great\ncontribution was his breaking down of the old dualism between God and\nman which was still fundamental to Kant. It was his assertion of the\nunity of man and God and of the life of God in man. This thought has\nbeen appropriated in all of modern theology.\n\n\nSCHELLING\n\n\nIt was the meagreness of Fichte's treatment of nature which impelled\nSchelling to what he called his outbreak into reality. Nature will not\nbe dismissed, as simply that which is not I. You cannot say that nature\nis only the sphere of my self-realisation. Individuals are in their way\nthe children of nature. They are this in respect of their souls as much\nas of their bodies. Nature was before they were. Nature is, moreover,\nnot alien to intelligence. On the contrary, it is a treasure-house of\nintelligible forms which demand to be treated as such. It appeared to\nSchelling, therefore, a truer idealism to work out an intelligible\nsystem of nature, exhibiting its essential oneness with personality.\n\nFriedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling was born in 1775 at Leonberg in\nWuerttemberg. His father was a clergyman. He was precocious in his\nintellectual development and much spoiled by vanity. Before he was\ntwenty years old he had published three works upon problems suggested by\nFichte. At twenty-three he was extraordinarius at Jena. He had\napparently a brilliant career before him. He published his _Erster\nEntwurf eines Systems der Naturphilosophe_, 1799, and also his _System\ndes transcendentalen Idealismus_, 1800. Even his short residence at Jena\nwas troubled by violent conflicts with his colleagues. It was brought to\nan end by his marriage with the wife of Augustus von Schlegel, who had\nbeen divorced for the purpose. From 1806 to 1841 he lived in Munich in\nretirement. The long-expected books which were to fulfil his early\npromise never appeared. Hegel's stricture was just. Schelling had no\ntaste for the prolonged and intense labour which his brilliant early\nworks marked out. He died in 1854, having reached the age of\nseventy-nine years, of which at least fifty were as melancholy and\nfruitless as could well be imagined.\n\nThe dominating idea of Schelling's philosophy of nature may be said to\nbe the exhibition of nature as the progress of intelligence toward\nconsciousness and personality. Nature is the ego in evolution,\npersonality in the making. All natural objects are visible analogues and\ncounterparts of mind. The intelligence which their structure reveals,\nmen had interpreted as residing in the mind of a maker of the world.\nNature had been spoken of as if it were a watch. God was its great\nartificer. No one asserted that its intelligence and power of\ndevelopment lay within itself. On the contrary, nature is always in the\nprocess of advance from lower, less highly organised and less\nintelligible forms, to those which are more highly organised, more\nnearly the counterpart of the active intelligence in man himself. The\npersonality of man had been viewed as standing over against nature, this\nlast being thought of as static and permanent. On the contrary, the\npersonality of man, with all of its intelligence and free will, is but\nthe climax and fulfilment of a long succession of intelligible forms in\nnature, passing upward from the inorganic to the organic, from the\nunconscious to the conscious, from the non-moral to the moral, as these\nare at last seen in man. Of course, it was the life of organic nature\nwhich first suggested this notion to Schelling. An organism is a\nself-moving, self-producing whole. It is an idea in process of\nself-realisation. What was observed in the organism was then made by\nSchelling the root idea of universal nature. Nature is in all its parts\nliving, self-moving along the lines of its development, productivity and\nproduct both in one. Empirical science may deal with separate products\nof nature. It may treat them as objects of analysis and investigation.\nIt may even take the whole of nature as an object. But nature is not\nmere object. Philosophy has to treat of the inner life which moves the\nwhole of nature as intelligible productivity, as subject, no longer as\nobject. Personality has slowly arisen out of nature. Nature was going\nthrough this process of self-development before there were any men to\ncontemplate it. It would go through this process were there no longer\nmen to contemplate it.\n\nSchelling has here rounded out the theory of absolute idealism which\nFichte had carried through in a one-sided way. He has given us also a\nwonderful anticipation of certain modern ideas concerning nature's\npreparation for the doctrine of evolution, which was a stroke of genius\nin its way. He attempted to arrange the realm of unconscious\nintelligences in an ascending series which should bridge the gulf\nbetween the lowest of natural forms and the fully equipped organism in\nwhich self consciousness, with the intellectual, the emotional, and\nmoral life, at last integrated. Inadequate material and a fondness for\nanalogies led Schelling into vagaries in following out this scheme.\nNevertheless, it is only in detail that we can look askance at his\nattempt. In principle our own conception of the universe is the same. It\nis the dynamic view of nature and an application of the principle of\nevolution in the widest sense. His errors were those into which a man\nwas bound to fall who undertook to forestall by a sweep of the\nimagination that which has been the result of the detailed and patient\ninvestigation of three generations. What Schelling attempted was to take\nnature as we know it and to exhibit it as in reality a function of\nintelligence, pointing, through all the gradations of its varied forms,\ntowards its necessary goal in self-conscious personality. Instead,\ntherefore, of our having in nature and personality two things which\ncannot be brought together, these become members of one great organism\nof intelligence of which the immanent God is the source and the\nsustaining power. These ideas constitute Schelling's contribution to an\nidealistic and, of course, an essentially monistic view of the universe.\nThe unity of man with God, Fichte had asserted. Schelling set forth the\noneness of God and nature, and again of man and nature. The circle was\ncomplete.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf we have succeeded in conveying a clear idea of the movement of\nthought from Kant to Hegel, that idea might be stated thus. There are\nbut three possible objects which can engage the thought of man. These\nare nature and man and God. There is the universe, of which we become\naware through experience from our earliest childhood. Then there is man,\nthe man given in self-consciousness, primarily the man myself. In this\nsense man seems to stand over against nature. Then, as the third\npossible object of thought, we have God. Upon the thought of God we\nusually come from the point of view of the category of cause. God is the\nname which men give to that which lies behind nature and man as the\norigin and explanation of both. Plato's chief interest was in man. He\ntalked much concerning a God who was somehow the speculative postulate\nof the spiritual nature in man. Aristotle began a real observation of\nnature. But the ancient and, still more, the mediaeval study of nature\nwas dominated by abstract and theological assumptions. These prevented\nany real study of that nature in the midst of which man lives, in\nreaction against which he develops his powers, and to which, on one\nwhole side of his nature, he belongs. Even in respect of that which men\nreverently took to be thought concerning God, they seem to have been\nunaware how much of their material was imaginative and poetic symbolism\ndrawn from the experience of man. The traditional idea of revelation\nproved a disturbing factor. Assuming that revelation gave information\nconcerning God, and not rather the religious experience of communion\nwith God himself, men accepted statements of the documents of revelation\nas if they had been definitions graciously given from out the realm of\nthe unseen. In reality, they were but fetches from out the world of the\nknown into the world of the unknown.\n\nThe point of interest is this:--In all possible combinations in which,\nthroughout the history of thought, these three objects had been set, the\none with the others, they had always remained three objects. There was\nno essential relation of the one to the other. They were like the points\nof a triangle of which any one stood over against the other two. God\nstood over against the man whom he had fashioned, man over against the\nGod to whom he was responsible. The consequences for theology are\nevident. When men wished to describe, for example, Jesus as the Son of\nGod, they laid emphasis upon every quality which he had, or was supposed\nto have, which was not common to him with other men. They lost sight of\nthat profound interest of religion which has always claimed that, in\nsome sense, all men are sons of God and Jesus was the son of man. Jesus\nwas then only truly honoured as divine when every trait of his humanity\nwas ignored. Similarly, when men spoke of revelation they laid emphasis\nupon those particulars in which this supposed method of coming by\ninformation was unlike all other methods. Knowledge derived directly\nfrom God through revelation was in no sense the parallel of knowledge\nderived by men in any other way. So also God stood over against nature.\nGod was indeed declared to have made nature. He had, however, but given\nit, so to say, an original impulse. That impulse also it had in some\nstrange way lost or perverted, so that the world, though it had been\nmade by God, was not good. For the most part it moved itself, although\nGod's sovereignty was evidenced in that he could still supervene upon\nit, if he chose. The supernatural was the realm of God. Natural and\nsupernatural were mutually exclusive terms, just as we saw that divine\nand human were exclusive terms. So also, on the third side of our\ntriangle, man stood over against nature. Nature was to primitive men the\nrealm of caprice, in which they imagined demons, spirits and the like.\nThese were antagonistic to men, as also hostile to God. Then, when with\nthe advance of reflexion these spirits, and equally their counterparts,\nthe good genii and angels, had all died, nature became the realm of iron\nnecessity, of regardless law, of all-destroying force, of cruel and\nindifferent fate. From this men took refuge in the thought of a\ncompassionate God, though they could not withdraw themselves or those\nwhom they loved from the inexorable laws of nature. They could not see\nthat God always, or even often, intervened on their behalf. It cannot be\ndenied that these ideas prevail to some extent in the popular theology\nat the present moment. Much of our popular religious language is an\ninheritance from a time when they universally prevailed. The religious\nintuition even of psalmists and prophets opposed many of these notions.\nThe pure religious intuition of Jesus opposed almost every one of them.\nMystics in every religion have had, at times, insight into an altogether\ndifferent scheme of things. The philosophy, however, even of the\nlearned, would, in the main, have supported the views above described,\nfrom the dawn of reflexion almost to our own time.\n\nIt was Kant who first began the resolution of this three-cornered\ndifficulty. When he pointed out that into the world, as we know it, an\nelement of spirit goes, that in it an element of the ideal inheres, he\nbegan a movement which has issued in modern monism. He affirmed that\nthat element from my thought which enters into the world, as I know it,\nmay be so great that only just a point of matter and a prick of sense\nremains. Fichte said: 'Why do we put it all in so perverse a way? Why\nreduce the world of matter to just a point? Why is it not taken for what\nit is, and yet understood to be all alive with God and we able to think\nof it, because we are parts of the great thinker God?' Still Fichte had\nbusied himself almost wholly with consciousness. Schelling endeavoured\nto correct that. Nature lives and moves in God, just as truly in one way\nas does man in another. Men arise out of nature. A circle has been drawn\nthrough the points of our triangle. Nature and man are in a new and\ndeeper sense revelations of God. In fact, supplementing one another,\nthey constitute the only possible channels for the manifestation of God.\nIt hardly needs to be said that these thoughts are widely appropriated\nin our modern world. These once novel speculations of the kings of\nthought have made their way slowly to all strata of society. Remote and\ndifficult in their first expression in the language of the schools,\ntheir implications are to-day on everybody's lips. It is this unitary\nview of the universe which has made difficult the acceptance of a\ntheology, the understandlng of a religion, which are still largely\nphrased in the language of a philosophy to which these ideas did not\nbelong. There is not an historic creed, there is hardly a greater system\nof theology, which is not stated in terms of a philosophy and science\nwhich no longer reign. Men are asking: 'cannot Christianity be so stated\nand interpreted that it shall meet the needs of men of the twentieth\ncentury, as truly as it met those of men of the first or of the\nsixteenth?' Hegel, the last of this great group of idealistic\nphilosophers whom we shall name, enthusiastically believed in this new\ninterpretation of the faith which was profoundly dear to him. He made\nimportant contribution to that interpretation.\n\n\nHEGEL\n\n\nGeorg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel was born in Stuttgart in 1770. His father\nwas in the fiscal service of the King of Wuerttemberg. He studied in\nTuebingen. He was heavy and slow of development, in striking contrast\nwith Schelling. He served as tutor in Bern and Frankfort, and began to\nlecture in Jena in 1801. He was much overshadowed by Schelling. The\nvictory of Napoleon at Jena in 1806 closed the university for a time. In\n1818 he was called to Fichte's old chair in Berlin. Never on very good\nterms with the Prussian Government, he yet showed his large sympathy\nwith life in every way. After 1820 a school of philosophical thinkers\nbegan to gather about him. His first great book, his _Phenomenologie des\nGeistes_ 1807 (translated, Baillie, London, 1910), was published at the\nend of his Jena period. His _Philosophie der Religion_ and _Philosophie\nder Geschichte_ were edited after his death. They are mainly in the form\nwhich his notes took between 1823 and 1827. He died during an epidemic\nof cholera in Berlin in 1831.\n\nBesides his deep interest in history the most striking feature of\nHegel's preliminary training was his profound study of Christianity. He\nmight almost be said to have turned to philosophy as a means of\nformulating the ideas which he had conceived concerning the development\nof the religious consciousness, which seemed to him to have been the\nbearer of all human culture. No one could fail to see that the idea of\nthe relation of God and man, of which we have been speaking, was bound\nto make itself felt in the interpretation of the doctrine of the\nincarnation and of all the dogmas, like that of the trinity, which are\nconnected with it. Characteristically, Hegel had pure joy in the\nspeculative aspects of the problem. If one may speak in all reverence,\nand, at the same time, not without a shade of humour, Hegel rejoiced to\nfind himself able, as he supposed, to rehabilitate the dogma of the\ntrinity, rationalised in approved fashion. It is as if the dogma had\nbeen a revered form or mould, which was for him indeed emptied of its\noriginal content. He felt bound to fill it anew. Or to speak more\njustly, he was really convinced that the new meaning which he poured\ninto the dogma was the true meaning which the Church Fathers had been\nseeking all the while. In the light of two generations of sober dealing,\nas historians, with such problems, we can but view his solution in a\nmanner very different from that which he indulged. He was even disposed\nmildly to censure the professional theologians for leaving the defence\nof the doctrine of the trinity to the philosophers. There were then, and\nhave since been, defenders of the doctrine who have thought that Hegel\ntendered them great aid. As a matter of fact, despite his own utter\nseriousness and reverent desire, his solution was a complete dissolution\nof the doctrine and of much else besides. His view would have been\nfatal, not merely to that particular form of orthodox thought, but, what\nis much more serious, to the religious meaning for which it stood.\nSooner or later men have seen that the whole drift of Hegelianism was to\ntransform religion into intellectualism. One might say that it was\nexactly this which the ancient metaphysicians, in the classic doctrine\nof the trinity, had done. They had transformed religion into\nmetaphysics. The matter would not have been remedied by having a modern\nmetaphysician do the same thing in another way.\n\nHegel was weary of Fichte's endless discussion of the ego and\nSchelling's of the absolute. It was not the abyss of the unknowable from\nwhich things said to come, or that into which they go, which interested\nHegel. It was their process and progress which we can know. It was that\npart of their movement which is observable within actual experience,\nwith which he was concerned. Now one of the laws of the movement of all\nthings, he said, is that by which every thought suggests, and every\nforce tends directly to produce, its opposite. Nothing stands alone.\nEverything exists by the balance and friction of opposing tendencies. We\nhave the universal contrasts of heat and cold, of light and darkness, of\ninward and outward, of static and dynamic, of yes and no. There are two\nsides to every case, democratic government and absolutism, freedom of\nreligion and authority, the individualistic and the social principles, a\nmaterialistic and a spiritual interpretation of the universe. Only\nthings which are dead have ceased to have this tide and alternation.\nChrist is for living religion now a man, now God, revelation now\nnatural, now supernatural. Religion in the eternal conflict between\nreason and faith, morals the struggle of good and evil, God now\nmysterious and now manifest.\n\nFichte had said: The essence of the universe is spirit. Hegel said: Yes,\nbut the true notion of spirit is that of the resolution of\ncontradiction, of the exhibition of opposites as held together in their\nunity. This is the meaning of the trinity. In the trinity we have God\nwho wills to manifest himself, Jesus in whom he is manifest, and the\nspirit common to them both. God's existence is not static, it is\ndynamic. It is motion, not rest. God is revealer, recipient, and\nrevelation all in one. The trinity was for Hegel the central doctrine of\nChristianity. Popular orthodoxy had drawn near to the assertion of three\nGods. The revolt, however, in asserting the unity of God, had made of\nGod a meaningless absolute as foundation of the universe. The orthodox,\nin respect to the person of Christ, had always indeed asserted in\nlaboured way that Jesus was both God and man. Starting from their own\nabstract conception of God, and attributing to Jesus the qualities of\nthat abstraction, they had ended in making of the humanity of Jesus a\nperfectly unreal thing. On the other hand, those who had set out from\nJesus's real humanity had been unable to see that he was anything more\nthan a mere man, as their phrase was. On their own assumption of the\nmutual exclusiveness of the conceptions of God and man, they could not\ndo otherwise.\n\nHegel saw clearly that God can be known to us only in and through\nmanifestation. We can certainly make no predication as to how God\nexists, in himself, as men say, and apart from our knowledge. He exists\nfor our knowledge only as manifest in nature and man. Man is for Hegel\npart of nature and Jesus is the highest point which the nature of God as\nmanifest in man has reached. In this sense Hegel sometimes even calls\nnature the Son of God, and mankind and Jesus are thought of as parts of\nthis one manifestation of God. If the Scripture asserts, as it seemed to\nthe framers of the creeds to do, that God manifested himself from before\nall worlds in and to a self-conscious personality like his own, Hegel\nwould answer: But the Scripture is no third source of knowledge, besides\nnature and man. Scripture is only the record of God's revelation of\nhimself in and to men. If these men framed their profoundest thought in\nthis way, that is only because they lived in an age when men had all\ntheir thoughts of this sort in a form which we can historically trace.\nFor Platonists and Neoplatonists, such as the makers of the creeds--and\nsome portions of the Scripture show this influence, as well--the divine,\nthe ideal, was always thought of as eternal. It always existed as pure\narchetype before it ever existed as historic fact. The rabbins had a\nspeculation to the same effect. The divine which exists must have\npre-existed. Jesus as Son of God could not be thought of by the ancient\nworld in any terms but these. The divine was static, changelessly\nperfect. For the modern man the divinest of all things is the mystery of\ngrowth. The perfect man is not at the beginning, but far down the\nimmeasurable series of approaches to perfection. The perfection of other\nmen is the work of still other ages, in which this extraordinary and\ninexplicable moral magnitude which Jesus is, has had its influence, and\nconferred upon them power to aid them in the fulfilment of God's intent\nfor themselves, which is like that intent for himself which Jesus has\nfulfilled.\n\nSurely enough has been said to show that what we have here is only the\nabsorption of even the profoundest religious meanings into the vortex of\nan all-dissolving metaphysical system. The most obvious meaning of the\nphrase 'Son of God,' its moral and spiritual, its real religious\nmeaning, is dwelt on, here in Hegel, as little as Hegel claimed that the\nNicene trinitarians had dwelt upon it. Nothing marks more clearly the\ndistance we have travelled since Hegel than does the general recognition\nthat his attempted solution does not even lie in the right direction. It\nis an attempt within the same area as that of the Nicene Council and the\ncreeds, namely, the metaphysical area. What is at stake is not the\npre-existence or the two natures. Hegel was right in what he said\nconcerning these. The pre-existence cannot be thought of except as\nideal. The two natures we assert for every man, only not in such a\nmanner as to destroy unity in the personality. The heart of the dogma is\nnot in these. It is the oneness of God and man, a moral and spiritual\noneness, oneness in conduct and consciousness, the presence and\nrealisation of God, who is spirit, in a real man, the divineness of\nJesus, in a sense which sees no meaning any longer in the old debate as\nbetween his divinity and his deity.\n\nIn the light of the new theory of the universe which we have reviewed,\nit flashes upon us that both defenders and assailants of the doctrine of\nthe incarnation, in the age-long debate, have proceeded from the\nassumption that God and man are opposites. Men contended for the\ndivineness of Jesus in terms which by definition shut out his true\nhumanity. They asserted the identity of a real man, a true historic\npersonage, with an abstract notion of God which had actually been framed\nby the denial of all human qualities. Their opponents with a like\nhelplessness merely reversed the situation. To admit the deity of Jesus\nwould have been for them, in all candour and clear-sightedness,\nabsolutely impossible, because the admission would have shut out his\ntrue humanity. On the old definitions we cannot wonder that the struggle\nwas a bitter one. Each party was on its own terms right. If God is by\ndefinition other than man, and man the opposite of God, then it is not\nsurprising that the attempt to say that Jesus of Nazareth was both,\nremained mysticism to the one and seemed folly to the other.\n\nNow, within the area of the philosophy which begins with Kant this old\nantinomy has been resolved. An actual circle of clear relations joins\nthe points of the old hopeless triangle. Men are men because of God\nindwelling in them, working through them. The phrase 'mere man' is seen\nto be a mere phrase. To say that the Nazarene, in some way not\ngenetically to be explained, but which is hidden within the recesses of\nhis own personality, shows forth in incomparable fulness that relation\nof God and man which is the ideal for us all, seems only to be saying\nover again what Jesus said when he proclaimed: 'I and My Father are\none.' That Jesus actualised, not absolutely in the sense that he stood\nout of relation to history, but still perfectly within his relation to\nhistory, that which in us and for us is potential, the sonship of\nGod--that seems a very simple and intelligible assertion. It certainly\nmakes a large part of the debate of ages seem remote from us. It brings\nhome to us that we live in a new world.\n\nInteresting and fruitful is Hegel's expansion of the idea of redemption\nbeyond that of the individual to that of the whole humanity, and in\nevery aspect of its life. In my relation to the world are given my\nduties. The renunciation of outward duty makes the inward life barren.\nThe principle which is to transform the world wears an aspect very\ndifferent from that of stoicism, of asceticism or even of the\nindividualism which has sought soul-salvation. In the midst of\nunworthiness and helplessness there springs up the consciousness of\nreconciliation. Man, with all his imperfections, becomes aware that he\nis the object of the loving purpose of God. Still this redemption of a\nman is something which is to be worked out, in the individual life and\non the stage of universal history. The first step beyond the individual\nlife is that of the Church. It is from within this community of\nbelievers that men, in the rule, receive the impulse to the good. The\ncommunity is, in its idea, a society in which the conquest of evil is\nalready being achieved, where the individual is spared much bitter\nconflict and loneliness. Nevertheless, so long as this unity of the life\nof man with God is realised in the Church alone there remains a false\nand harmful opposition between the Church and the world. Religion is\nfaced by a hostile power to which its principles have no application.\nThe world is denounced as unholy. With this stigma cast upon it, it may\nbe unholy. Yet the retribution falls also upon the Church, in that it\nbecomes artificial, clerical, pharisaical. The end is never that what\nhave been called the standards of the Church shall prevail. The end is\nthat the Church shall be the shrine and centre of an influence by virtue\nof which the standard of truth and goodness which naturally belongs to\nany relation of life shall prevail. The distinction between religion and\nsecular life must be abandoned. Nothing is less sacred than a Church set\non its own aggrandisement. The relations of family and of the State, of\nbusiness and social life, are to be restored to the divineness which\nbelongs to them, or rather, the divineness which is inalienable from\nthem is to be recognised. In the laws and customs of a true State,\nChristianity first penetrates with its principles the real world. One\nsees how large a portion of these thoughts have been taken up into the\nprogramme of modern social movements. They are the basis of what men\ncall a social theology. A book like Fremantle's _World as the Subject of\nRedemption_ is their thorough-going exposition in the English tongue.\n\nWe have no cause to pursue the philosophical movement beyond this point.\nIts exponents are not without interest. Especially is this true of\nSchopenhauer. But the deposit from their work is for our particular\npurpose not great. The wonderful impulse had spent itself. These four\nbrilliant men stand together, almost as much isolated from the\ngeneration which followed them as from that which went before. The\nhistorian of Christian thought in the nineteenth century cannot\noverestimate the significance of their personal interest in religion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHEOLOGICAL RECONSTRUCTION\n\n\nThe outstanding trait of Kant's reflection upon religion is its supreme\ninterest in morals and conduct. Metaphysician that he was, Kant saw the\nevil which intellectualism had done to religion. Religion was a\nprofoundly real thing to him in his own life. Religion is a life. It is\na system of thought only because life is a whole. It is a system of\nthought only in the way of deposit from a vivid and vigorous life. A man\nnormally reflects on the conditions and aims of what he does. Religion\nis conduct. Ends in character are supreme. Religions and the many\ninterpretations of Christianity have been good or bad, according as they\nministered to character. So strong was this ethical trait in Kant that\nit dwarfed all else. He was not himself a man of great breadth or\nrichness of feeling. He was not a man of imagination. His religion was\naustere, not to say arid. Hegel was before all things an\nintellectualist. Speculation was the breath of life to him. He had\nmetaphysical genius. He tended to transform in this direction everything\nwhich he touched. Religion is thought. He criticised the rationalist\nmovement from the height of vantage which idealism had reached. But as\npure intellectualist he would put most rationalists to shame. We owe to\nthis temperament his zeal for an interpretation of the universe 'all in\none piece.' Its highest quality would be its abstract truth. His\nunderstanding of religion had the glory and the limitations which attend\nthis view.\n\n\nSCHLEIERMACHER\n\n\nBetween Kant and Hegel came another, Schleiermacher. He too was no mean\nphilosopher. But he was essentially a theologian, the founder of modern\ntheology. He served in the same faculty with Hegel and was overshadowed\nby him. His influence upon religious thought was less immediate. It has\nbeen more permanent. It was characteristically upon the side which Kant\nand Hegel had neglected. That was the side of feeling. His theology has\nbeen called the theology of feeling. He defined religion as feeling.\nChristianity is for him a specific feeling. Because he made so much of\nfeeling, his name has been made a theological household word by many who\nappropriated little else of all he had to teach. His warmth and passion,\nhis enthusiasm for Christ, the central place of Christ in his system,\nmade him loved by many who, had they understood him better, might have\nloved him less. For his real greatness lay, not in the fact that he\npossessed these qualities alone, but that he possessed them in a\nsingularly beautiful combination with other qualities. The emphasis is,\nhowever, correct. He was the prophet of feeling, as Kant had been of\nethical religion and Hegel of the intellectuality of faith. The entire\nProtestant theology of the nineteenth century has felt his influence.\nThe English-speaking race is almost as much his debtor as is his own.\nThe French Huguenots of the revival felt him to be one of themselves.\nEven to Amiel and Scherer he was a kindred spirit.\n\nIt is a true remark of Dilthey that in unusual degree an understanding\nof the man's personality and career is necessary to the appreciation of\nhis thought. Friedrich Ernst Daniel Schleiermacher was born in 1768 in\nBreslau, the son of a chaplain in the Reformed Church. He never\nconnected himself officially with the Lutheran Church. We have alluded\nto an episode broadly characteristic of his youth. He was tutor in the\nhouse of one of the landed nobility of Prussia, curate in a country\nparish, preacher at the Charite in Berlin in 1795, professor\nextraordinarius at Halle in 1804, preacher at the Church of the\nDreifaltigkeit in Berlin in 1807, professor of theology and organiser of\nthat faculty in the newly-founded University of Berlin in 1810. He never\ngave up his position as pastor and preacher, maintaining this activity\nalong with his unusual labours as teacher, executive and author. He died\nin 1834. In his earlier years in Berlin he belonged to the circle of\nbrilliant men and women who made Berlin famous in those years. It was a\nfashionable society composed of persons more or less of the\nrationalistic school. Not a few of them, like the Schlegels, were deeply\ntinged with romanticism. There were also among them Jews of the house of\nthe elder Mendelssohn. Morally it was a society not altogether above\nreproach. Its opposition to religion was a by-word. An affection of the\nsusceptible youth for a woman unhappily married brought him to the verge\nof despair. It was an affection which his passing pride as romanticist\nwould have made him think it prudish to discard, while the deep,\nunderlying elements of his nature made it inconceivable that he should\nindulge. Only in later years did he heal his wound in a happy married\nlife.\n\nThe episode was typical of the experience he was passing through. He\nunderstood the public with which his first book dealt. That book bears\nthe striking title, _Reden ueber die Religion, an die Gebildeten unter\nihren Veraechtern_ (translated, Oman, Oxford, 1893). His public\nunderstood him. He could reach them as perhaps no other man could do. If\nhe had ever concealed what religion was to him, he now paid the price.\nIf they had made light of him, he now made war on them. This meed they\ncould hardly withhold from him, that he understood most other things\nquite as well as they, and religion much better than they. The\nrhetorical form is a fiction. The addresses were never delivered. Their\ntension and straining after effect is palpable. They are a cry of pain\non the part of one who sees that assailed which is sacred to him, of\ntriumph as he feels himself able to repel the assault, of brooding\npersuasiveness lest any should fail to be won for his truth. He concedes\neverything. It is part of his art to go further than his detractors. He\nis so well versed in his subject that he can do that with consummate\nmastery, where they are clumsy or dilettante. It is but a pale ghost of\nreligion that he has left. But he has attained his purpose. He has\nvindicated the place of religion in the life of culture. He has shown\nthe relation of religion to every great thing in civilisation, its\naffinity with art, its common quality with poetry, its identity with all\nprofound activities of the soul. These all are religion, though their\nvotaries know it not. These are reverence for the highest, dependence on\nthe highest, self-surrender to the highest. No great man ever lived, no\ngreat work was ever done, save in an attitude toward the universe, which\nis identical with that of the religious man toward God. The universe is\nGod. God is the universe. That religionists have obscured this simple\ntruth and denied this grand relation is true, and nothing to the point.\nThe cultivated should be ashamed not to know this. Then, with a sympathy\nwith institutional religion and a knowledge of history in which he stood\nalmost alone, he retracts much that he has yielded, he rebuilds much\nthat he has thrown down, proclaims much which they must now concede. The\nbook was published in 1799. Twenty years later he said sadly that if he\nwere rewriting it, its shafts would be directed against some very\ndifferent persons, against glib and smug people who boasted the form of\ngodliness, conventional, even fashionable religionists and loveless\necclesiastics. Vast and various influences in the Germany of the first\ntwo decades of the century had wrought for the revival of religion. Of\nthose influences, not the least had been that of Schleiermacher's book.\nAmong the greatest had been Schleiermacher himself.\n\nThe religion of feeling, as advocated in the _Reden_, had left much on\nthe ethical side to be desired. This defect the author sought to remedy\nin his _Monologen_, published in 1800. The programme of theological\nstudies for the new University of Berlin, _Kurze Darstellung des\nTheologischen Studiums_, 1811, shows his theological system already in\nlarge part matured. His _Der christliche Glaube_, published in 1821,\nrevised three years before his death in 1834, is his monumental work.\nHis _Ethik_, his lectures upon many subjects, numerous volumes of\nsermons, all published after his death, witness his versatility. His\nsermons have the rare note which one finds in Robertson and Brooks.\n\nAll of the immediacy of religion, its independence of rational argument,\nof historical tradition or institutional forms, which was characteristic\nof Schleiermacher to his latest day, is felt in the _Reden_. By it he\nthrilled the hearts of men as they have rarely been thrilled. It is not\nforms and traditions which create religion. It is religion which creates\nthese. They cannot exist without it. It may exist without them, though\nnot so well or so effectively. Religion is the sense of God. That sense\nwe have, though many call it by another name. It would be more true to\nsay that that sense has us. It is inescapable. All who have it are the\nreligious. Those who hold to dogmas, rites, institutions in such a way\nas to obscure and overlay this sense of God, those who hold those as\nsubstitute for that sense, are the nearest to being irreligious. Any\nform, the most _outre_, bizarre and unconventional, is good, so only\nthat it helps a man to God. All forms are evil, the most accredited the\nmost evil, if they come between a man and God. The pantheism of the\nthought of God in all of Schleiermacher's early work is undeniable. He\nnever wholly put it aside. The personality of God seemed to him a\nlimitation. Language is here only symbolical, a mere expression from an\nenvironment which we know, flung out into the depths of that we cannot\nsee. If the language of personal relations helps men in living with\ntheir truth--well and good. It hinders also. For himself he felt that it\nhindered more than helped. His definition of religion as the feeling of\ndependence upon God, is cited as evidence of the effect upon him of his\ncontention against the personalness of God. Religion is also, it is\nalleged, the sentiment of fellowship with God. Fellowship implies\npersons. But to no man was the fellowship with the soul of his own soul\nand of all the universe more real than was that fellowship to\nSchleiermacher. This was the more true in his maturer years, the years\nof the magnificent rounding out of his thought. God was to him indeed\nnot 'a man in the next street.' What he says about the problem of the\npersonalness of God is true. We see, perhaps, more clearly than did he\nthat the debate is largely about words. Similarly, we may say that\nSchleiermacher's passing denial of the immortality of the soul was\ndirected, in the first instance, against the crass, unsocial and immoral\nview which has disfigured much of the teaching of religion. His\ncontention was directed toward that losing of oneself in God through\nideals and service now, which in more modern phrase we call the entrance\nupon the immortal life here, the being in eternity now. For a soul so\ndisposed, for a life thus inspired, death is but an episode. For himself\nhe rejoices to declare it one to the issue of which he is indifferent.\nIf he may thus live with God now, he cares little whether or not he\nshall live by and by.\n\nIn his _Monologues_ Schleiermacher first sets forth his ethical thought.\nAs it is religion that a man feels himself dependent upon God, so is it\nthe beginning of morality that a man feels his dependence upon his\nfellows and their dependence on him. Slaves of their own time and\ncircumstance, men live out their lives in superficiality and isolation.\nThey are a prey to their own selfishness. They never come into those\nrelations with their fellows in which the moral ideal can be realised.\nMan in his isolation from his fellows is nothing and accomplishes\nnothing. The interests of the whole humanity are his private interests.\nHis own happiness and welfare are not possible to be secured save\nthrough his co-operation with others, his work and service for others.\nThe happiness and welfare of others not merely react upon his own. They\nare in a large sense identical with his own. This oneness of a man with\nall men is the basis of morality, just as the oneness of man with God is\nthe basis of religion. In both cases the oneness exists whether or not\nwe know it. The contradictions and miseries into which immoral or\nunmoral conduct plunges us, are the witness of the fact that this\ninviolable unity of a man with humanity is operative, even if he ignores\nit. Often it is his ignoring of this relation which brings him through\nmisery to consciousness of it. Man as moral being is but an\nindividuation of humanity, just as, again, as religious being he is but\nan individuation of God. The goal of the moral life is the absorption of\nself, the elimination of self, which is at the same time the\nrealisation of self, through the life and service for others. The goal\nof religion is the elimination of self, the swallowing up of self, in\nthe service of God. In truth, the unity of man with man is at bottom\nonly another form of his unity with God, and the service of humanity is\nthe identical service of God. Other so-called services of God are a\nmeans to this, or else an illusion. This parallel of religion and morals\nis to be set over against other passages, easily to be cited, in which\nSchleiermacher speaks of passivity and contemplation as the means of the\nrealisation of the unity of man and God, as if the elimination of self\nmeant a sort of Nirvana. Schleiermacher was a pantheist and mystic. No\nphilosopher save Kant ever influenced him half so much as did Spinoza.\nThere is something almost oriental in his mood at times. An occasional\nfragment of description of religion might pass as a better delineation\nof Buddhism than of Christianity. This universality of his mind is\ninteresting. These elements have not been unattractive to some portions\nof his following. One wearied with the Philistinism of the modern\npopular urgency upon practicality turns to Schleiermacher, as indeed\nsometimes to Spinoza, and says, here is a man who at least knows what\nreligion is. Yet nothing is further from the truth than to say that\nSchleiermacher had no sense for the meaning of religion in the outward\nlife and present world.\n\nIn the _Reden_ Schleiermacher had contended that religion is a condition\nof devout feeling, specifically the feeling of dependence upon God. This\nview dominates his treatment of Christianity. It gives him his point of\ndeparture. A Christian is possessed of the devout feeling of dependence\nupon God through Jesus Christ or, as again he phrases it, of dependence\nupon Christ. Christianity is a positive religion in the sense that it\nhas direct relation to certain facts in the history of the race, most of\nall to the person of Jesus of Nazareth. But it does not consist in any\npositive propositions whatsoever. These have arisen in the process of\ninterpretation of the faith. The substance of the faith is the\nexperience of renewal in Christ, of redemption through Christ. This\ninward experience is neither produced by pure thought nor dependent upon\nit. Like all other experience it is simply an object to be described and\nreckoned with. Orthodox dogmatists had held that the content of the\nChristian faith is a doctrine given in revelation. Schleiermacher held\nthat it is a consciousness inspired primarily by the personality of\nJesus. It must be connected with the other data and acta of our\nconsciousness under the general laws of the operation of the mind.\nAgainst rationalism and much so-called liberal Christianity,\nSchleiermacher contended that Christianity is not a new set of\npropositions periodically brought up to date and proclaimed as if these\nalone were true. New propositions can have only the same relativity of\ntruth which belonged to the old ones in their day. They may stand\nbetween men and religion as seriously as the others had done.\n\nThe condition of the heart, which is religion, the experience through\nJesus which is Christianity, is primarily an individual matter. But it\nis not solely such. It is a common experience also. Schleiermacher\nrecognises the common element in the Christian consciousness, the\nelement which shows itself in the Christian experience of all ages, of\ndifferent races and of countless numbers of men. By this recognition of\nthe Christian Church in its deep and spiritual sense, Schleiermacher\nhopes to escape the vagaries and eccentricities, and again the\nnarrowness and bigotries of pure individualism. No liberal theologian\nuntil Schleiermacher had had any similar sense of the meaning of the\nChristian Church, and of the privilege and duty of Christian thought to\ncontribute to the welfare of that body of men believing in God and\nfollowing Christ which is meant by the Church. This is in marked\ncontrast with the individualism of Kant. Of course, Schleiermacher would\nnever have recognised as the Church that part of humanity which is held\ntogether by adherence to particular dogmas, since, for him, Christianity\nis not dogma. Still less could he recognise as the Church that part of\nmankind which is held together by a common tradition of worship, or by a\ngiven theory of organisation, since these also are historical and\nincidental. He meant by the Church that part of humanity, in all places\nand at all times, which has been held together by the common possession\nof the Christian consciousness and the Christian experience. The outline\nof this experience, the content of this consciousness, can never be so\ndefined as to make it legislatively operative. If it were so defined we\nshould have dogma and not Christianity. Nevertheless, it may be\npractically potent. The degree in which a given man may justly identify\nhis own consciousness and experience with that of the Christian world is\nproblematical. In Schleiermacher's own case, the identification of some\nof his contentions as, for example, the thought that God is not personal\nwith the great Christian consciousness of the past, is more than\nproblematical. To this Schleiermacher would reply that if these\ncontentions were true, they would become the possession of spiritual\nChristendom with the lapse of time. Advance always originated with one\nor a few. If, however, in the end, a given portion found no place in the\nconsciousness of generation truly evidencing their Christian life, that\nposition would be adjudged an idiosyncrasy, a negligible quantity. This\nview of Schleiermacher's as to the Church is suggestive. It is the\nundertone of a view which widely prevails in our own time. It is\nsomewhat difficult of practical combination with the traditional marks\nof the churches, as these have been inherited even in Protestantism from\nthe Catholic age.\n\nIn a very real sense Jesus occupied the central place in\nSchleiermacher's system. The centralness of Jesus Christ he himself was\nnever weary of emphasising. It became in the next generation a favorite\nphrase of some who followed Schleiermacher's pure and bounteous spirit\nafar off. Too much of a mystic to assert that it is through Jesus alone\nthat we know God, he yet accords to Jesus an absolutely unique place in\nrevelation. It is through the character and personality of Jesus that\nthe change in the character of man, which is redemption, is marshalled\nand sustained. Redemption is a man's being brought out of the condition\nin which all higher self consciousness was dimmed and enfeebled, into\none in which this higher consciousness is vivid and strong and the power\nof self-determination toward the good has been restored. Salvation is\nthus moral and spiritual, present as well as future. It is possible in\nthe future only because actual in the present. It is the reconstruction\nof a man's nature and life by the action of the spirit of God,\nconjointly with that of man's own free spirit.\n\nIt is intelligible in Schleiermacher's context that Jesus should be\nspoken of as the sole redeemer of men, their only hope, and that the\nChristian's dependence upon him should be described as absolute. As a\nmatter of fact, however, the idea of dependence upon Christ alone has\nbeen often, indeed, one may say generally, associated with a conception\nof salvation widely different from that of Schleiermacher. It has been\noftenest associated with the notion of something purely external,\nforensic, even magical. It is connected, even down to our own time, with\nreliance upon the blood of Christ, almost as if this were externally\napplied. It has postulated a propitiatory sacrifice, a vicarious\natonement, a completed transaction, something which was laid up for all\nand waiting to be availed of by some. Now every external, forensic,\nmagical notion of salvation, as something purchased for us, imputed to\nus, conferred upon us, would have been utterly impossible to\nSchleiermacher. It is within the soul of man that redemption takes\nplace. Conferment from the side of God and Christ, or from God through\nChrist, can be nothing more, as also it can be nothing less, than the\nimparting of wisdom and grace and spiritual power from the personality\nof Jesus, which a man then freely takes up within himself and gives\nforth as from himself. The Christian consciousness contains, along with\nthe sense of dependence upon Jesus, the sense of moral alliance and\nspiritual sympathy with him, of a free relation of the will of man to\nthe will of God as revealed in Jesus. The will of man is set upon the\nreproduction within himself, so far as possible, of the consciousness,\nexperience and character of Jesus.\n\nThe sin from which man is to be delivered is described by Schleiermacher\nthus: It is the dominance of the lower nature in us, of the\nsense-consciousness. It is the determination of our course of life by\nthe senses. This preponderance of the senses over the consciousness of\nGod is the secret of unhappiness, of the feeling of defeat and misery in\nmen, of the need of salvation. One has to read Schleiermacher's phrase,\n'the senses' here, as we read Paul's phrase, 'the flesh.' On the other\nhand, the preponderance of the consciousness of God, the willing\nobedience to it in every act of life, becomes to us the secret of\nstrength and of blessedness in life. This is the special experience of\nthe Christian. It is the effect of the impulse and influence of Christ.\nWe receive this impulse in a manner wholly consistent with the laws of\nour psychological and moral being. We carry forward this impulse with\nvarying fortunes and by free will. It comes to us, however, from without\nand from above, through one who was indeed true man, but who is also, in\na manner not further explicable, to be identified with the moral ideal\nof humanity. This identification of Jesus with the moral ideal is\ncomplete and unquestioning with Schleiermacher. It is visible in the\ninterchangeable use of the titles Jesus and Christ. Our saving\nconsciousness of God could proceed from the person of Jesus only if that\nconsciousness were actually present in Jesus in an absolute measure.\nIdeal and person in him perfectly coincide.\n\nAs typical and ideal man, according to Schleiermacher, Jesus was\ndistinguished from all other founders of religions. These come before us\nas men chosen from the number of their fellows, receiving, quite as much\nfor themselves as for others, that which they received from God. It is\nnowhere implied that Jesus himself was in need of redemption, but rather\nthat he alone possessed from earliest years the fulness of redemptive\npower. He was distinguished from other men by his absolute moral\nperfection. This excluded not merely actual sin, but all possibility of\nsin and, accordingly, all real moral struggle. This perfection was\ncharacterised also by his freedom from error. He never originated an\nerroneous notion nor adopted one from others as a conviction of his own.\nIn this respect his person was a moral miracle in the midst of the\ncommon life of our humanity, of an order to be explained only by a new\nspiritually creative act of God. On the other hand, Schleiermacher says\nsquarely that the absence of the natural paternal participation in the\norigin of the physical life of Jesus, according to the account in the\nfirst and third Gospels, would add nothing to the moral miracle if it\ncould be proved and detract nothing if it should be taken away. Singular\nis this ability on the part of Schleiermacher to believe in the moral\nmiracle, not upon its own terms, of which we shall speak later, but upon\nterms upon which the outward and physical miracle, commonly so-called,\nhad become, we need not say incredible, but unnecessary to\nSchleiermacher himself. Singular is this whole part of Schleiermacher's\nconstruction, with its lapse into abstraction of the familiar sort, of\nwhich, in general, the working of his mind had been so free. For surely\nwhat we here have is abstraction. It is an undissolved fragment of\nmetaphysical theology. It is impossible of combination with the\nhistorical. It is wholly unnecessary for the religious view of salvation\nwhich Schleiermacher had distinctly taken. It is surprising how slow men\nhave been to learn that the absolute cannot be historic nor the historic\nabsolute.\n\nSurely the claim that Jesus was free from error in intellectual\nconception is unnecessary, from the point of view of the saving\ninfluence upon character which Schleiermacher had asserted. It is in\ncontradiction with the view of revelation to which Schleiermacher had\nalready advanced. It is to be accounted for only from the point of view\nof the mistaken assumption that the divine, even in manifestation, must\nbe perfect, in the sense of that which is static and not of that which\nis dynamic. The assertion is not sustained from the Gospel itself. It\nreduces many aspects of the life of Jesus to mere semblance. That also\nwhich is claimed in regard to the abstract impossibility of sin upon the\npart of Jesus is in hopeless contradiction with that which\nSchleiermacher had said as to the normal and actual development of\nJesus, in moral as also in all other ways. Such development is\nimpossible without struggle. Struggle is not real when failure is\nimpossible. So far as we know, it is in struggle only that character is\nmade. Even as to the actual commission of sin on Jesus' part, the\nassertion of the abstract necessity of his sinlessness, for the work of\nmoral redemption, goes beyond anything which we know. The question of\nthe sinlessness of Jesus is not an _a priori_ question. To say that he\nwas by conception free from sin is to beg the question. We thus form a\nconception and then read the Gospels to find evidence to sustain it. To\nsay that he did, though tempted in all points like as we are, yet so\nconduct himself in the mystery of life as to remain unstained, is indeed\nto allege that he achieved that which, so far us we know, is without\nparallel in the history of the race. But it is to leave him true man,\nand so the moral redeemer of men who would be true. To say that, if he\nwere true man, he must have sinned, is again to beg the question. Let us\nrepeat that the question is one of evidence. To say that he was, though\ntrue man, so far as we have any evidence in fact, free from sin, is only\nto say that his humanity was uniquely penetrated by the spirit of God\nfor the purposes of the life which he had to live. That heart-broken\nrecollection of his own sin which one hears in _The Scarlet Letter_,\ngiving power to the preacher who would reach men in their sins, has not\nthe remotest parallel in any reminiscence of Jesus which we possess.\nThere is every evidence of the purity of Jesus' consciousness. There is\nno evidence of the consciousness of sin. There is a passage in the\n_Discourses_, in which Schleiermacher himself declared that the\nidentification of the fundamental idea of religion with the historical\nfact in which that religion had its rise, was a mistake. Surely it is\nexactly this mistake which Schleiermacher has here made.\n\nIt will be evident from all that has been said that to Schleiermacher\nthe Scripture was not the foundation of faith. As such it was almost\nuniversally regarded in his time. The New Testament, he declared, is\nitself but a product of the Christian consciousness. It is a record of\nthe Christian experience of the men of the earlier time. To us it is a\nmeans of grace because it is the vivid and original register of that\nexperience. The Scriptures can be regarded as the work of the Holy\nSpirit only in so far as this was this common spirit of the early\nChurch. This spirit has borne witness to Christ in these writings not\nessentially otherwise than in later writings, only more at first hand,\nmore under the impression of intercourse with Jesus. Least of all may we\nbase the authority of Scripture upon a theory of inspiration such as\nthat generally current in Schleiermacher's time. It is the personality\nof Jesus which is the inspiration of the New Testament. Christian faith,\nincluding the faith in the Scriptures, can rest only upon the total\nimpression of the character of Jesus.\n\nIn the same manner Schleiermacher speaks of miracles. These cannot be\nregarded in the conventional manner as supports of religion, for the\nsimplest of all reasons. They presuppose religion and faith and must be\nunderstood by means of those. The accounts of external miracles\ncontained in the Gospels are matters for unhesitating criticism. The\nChristian finds, for moral reasons and because of the response of his\nown heart, the highest revelation of God in Jesus Christ. Extraordinary\nevents may be expected in Jesus' career. Yet these can be called\nmiracles only relatively, as containing something extraordinary for\ncontemporary knowledge. They may remain to us events wholly\ninexplicable, illustrating a law higher than any which we yet know.\nTherewith they are not taken out of the realm of the orderly phenomena\nof nature. In other words, the notion of the miraculous is purely\nsubjective. What is a miracle for one age may be no miracle in the view\nof the next. Whatever the deeds of Jesus may have been, however\ninexplicable all ages may find them, we can but regard them as merely\nnatural consequences of the personality of Jesus, unique because he was\nunique. 'In the interests of religion the necessity can never arise of\nregarding an event as taken out of its connection with nature, in\nconsequence of its dependence upon God.'\n\nIt is not possible within the compass of this book to do more than deal\nwith typical and representative persons. Schleiermacher was\nepoch-making. He gathered in himself the creative impulses of the\npreceding period. The characteristic theological tendencies of the two\nsucceeding generations may be traced back to him. Many men worked in\nseriousness upon the theological problem. No one of them marks an era\nagain until we come to Ritschl. The theologians of the interval between\nSchleiermacher and Ritschl have been divided into three groups. The\nfirst group is of distinctly philosophical tendency. The influence of\nHegel was felt upon them all. To this group belong Schweitzer,\nBiedermann, Lipsius, and Pfleiderer. The influence of Hegel was greatest\nupon Biedermann, least upon Lipsius. An estimate of the influence of\nSchleiermacher would reverse that order. Especially did Lipsius seek to\nlay at the foundation of his work that exact psychological study of the\nphenomena of religion which Schleiermacher had declared requisite. It is\npossible that Lipsius will more nearly come to his own when the\nenthusiasm for Ritschl has waned. The second group of Schleiermacher's\nfollowers took the direction opposite to that which we have named. They\nwere the confessional theologians. Hoffmann shows himself learned, acute\nand full of power. One does not see, however, why his method should not\nprove anything which any confession ever claimed. He sets out from\nSchleiermacher's declaration concerning the content of the Christian\nconsciousness. In Hoffmann's own devout consciousness there had been\nresponse, since his childhood, to every item which the creed alleged.\nTherefore these items must have objective truth. One is reminded of an\nEnglish parallel in Newman's _Grammar of Assent_. Yet another group,\nthat of the so-called mediating theologians, contains some well-known\nnames. Here belong Nitzsch, Rothe, Mueller, Dorner. The name had\noriginally described the effort to find, in the Union, common ground\nbetween Lutherans and Reformed. In the fact that it made the creeds of\nlittle importance and fell back on Schleiermacher's emphasis upon\nfeeling, the movement came to have the character also of an attempt to\nfind a middle way between confessionalists and rationalists. Its\nrepresentatives had often the kind of breadth of sympathy which goes\nwith lack of insight, rather than that breadth of sympathy which is due\nto the possession of insight. Yet Rothe rises to real distinction,\nespecially in his forecast of the social interpretation of religion.\nWith the men of this group arose a speculation concerning the person of\nChrist which for a time had some currency. It was called the theory of\nthe kenosis. Jesus is spoken of in a famous passage of the letter to the\nPhilippians; as having emptied himself of divine qualities that he might\nbe found in fashion as a man. In this speculation the divine attributes\nwere divided into two classes. Of the one class it was held Christ had\nemptied himself in becoming flesh, or at least he had them in abeyance.\nHe had them, but did not use them. What we have here is but a despairing\neffort to be just to Jesus' humanity and yet to assert his deity in the\nancient metaphysical terms. It is but saying yes and no in the same\nbreath. Biedermann said sadly of the speculation that it represented the\nkenosis, not of the divine nature, but of the human understanding.\n\n\nRITSCHL AND THE RITSCHLIANS\n\n\nIf any man in the department of theology in the latter half of the\nnineteenth century attained a position such as to entitle him to be\ncompared with Schleiermacher, it was Ritschl. He was long the most\nconspicuous figure in any chair of dogmatic theology in Germany. He\nestablished a school of theological thinkers in a sense in which\nSchleiermacher never desired to gain a following. He exerted\necclesiastical influence of a kind which Schleiermacher never sought. He\nwas involved in controversy in a degree to which the life of\nSchleiermacher presents no parallel. He was not a preacher, he was no\nphilosopher. He was not a man of Schleiermacher's breadth of interest.\nHis intellectual history presents more than one breach within itself, as\nthat of Schleiermacher presented none, despite the wide arc which he\ntraversed. Of Ritschl, as of Schleiermacher, it may be said that he\nexerted a great influence over many who have only in part agreed with\nhim.\n\nAlbrecht Ritschl was born in 1822 in Berlin, the son of a bishop in the\nLutheran Church. He was educated at Bonn and at Tuebingen. He established\nhimself at Bonn, where, in 1853, he became professor extraordinarius and\nin 1860 ordinaries. In 1864 he was called to Goettingen. In 1874 he\nbecame consistorialrath in the new Prussian establishment for the\nHanoverian Church. He died in 1888. These are the simple outward facts\nof a somewhat stormy professional career. There was pietistic influence\nin Ritschl's ancestry, as also in Schleiermacher's. Ritschl had,\nhowever, reacted violently against it. His attitude was that of\nrepudiation of everything mystical. He had strong aversion to the type\nof piety which rested its assurance solely upon inward experience. This\naversion is one root of the historic positivism which makes him, at the\nlast, assert the worthlessness of all supposed revelations outside of\nthe Bible and of all supposed Christian experience apart from the\ninfluence of the historical Christ. He began his career under the\ninfluence of Hegel. He came to the position in which he felt that the\nsole hope for theology was in the elimination from it of all\nmetaphysical elements. He felt that none of his predecessors had carried\nout Schleiermacher's dictum, that religion is not thought, but religious\nthought only one of the functions of religion. Yet, of course, he was\nnot able to discuss fundamental theological questions without\nphilosophical basis, particularly an explicit theory of knowledge. His\ntheory of knowledge he had derived eclectically and somewhat\neccentrically, from Lotze and Kant. To this day not all, either of his\nfriends or foes, are quite certain what it was. It is open to doubt\nwhether Ritschl really arrived at his theory of cognition and then made\nit one of the bases of his theology. It is conceivable that he made his\ntheology and then propounded his theory of cognition in its defence. In\na word, the basis of distinction between religious and scientific\nknowledge is not to be sought in its object. It is to be found in the\nsphere of the subject, in the difference of attitude of the subject\ntoward the object. Religion is concerned with what he calls\n_Werthurtheile_, judgments of value, considerations of our relation to\nthe world, which are of moment solely in accordance with their value in\nawakening feelings of pleasure or of pain. The thought of God, for\nexample, must be treated solely as a judgment of value. It is a\nconception which is of worth for the attainment of good, for our\nspiritual peace and victory over the world. What God is in himself we\ncannot know, an existential Judgment we cannot form without going over\nto the metaphysicians. What God is to us we can know simply as religious\nmen and solely upon the basis of religious experience. God is holy love.\nThat is a religious value-judgment. But what sort of a being God must be\nin order that we may assign to him these attributes, we cannot say\nwithout leaving the basis of experience. This is pragmatism indeed. It\nopens up boundless possibilities of subjectivism in a man who was\napparently only too matter-of-fact.\n\nThere was a time in his career when Ritschl was popular with both\nconservatives and liberals. There were long years in which he was\nbitterly denounced by both. Yet there was something in the man and in\nhis teaching which went beyond all the antagonisms of the schools. There\ncan be no doubt that it was the intention of Ritschl to build his\ntheology solely upon the gospel of Jesus Christ. The joy and confidence\nwith which this theology could be preached, Ritschl awakened in his\npupils in a degree which had not been equalled by any theologian since\nSchleiermacher himself. Numbers who, in the time of philosophical and\nscientific uncertainty, had lost their courage, regained it in contact\nwith his confident and deeply religious spirit. A wholesome nature,\neminently objective in temper, concentrated with all his force upon his\ntask, of rare dialectical gifts, he had a great sense of humour and\noccasionally also the faculty of bitterly sarcastic speech. His very\nfigure radiated the delight of conflict as he walked the Goettingen wall.\n\nA devoted pupil, writing immediately after Ritschl's death, used\nconcerning Schleiermacher a phrase which we may transfer to Ritschl\nhimself. 'One wonders whether such a theology ever existed as a\nconnected whole, except in the mind of its originator. Neither by those\nabout him, nor by those after him, has it been reproduced in its\nentirety or free from glaring contradictions.' It was not free from\ncontradictions in Ritschl's own mind. His pupils divided his inheritance\namong them. Each appropriated that which accorded with his own way of\nlooking at things and viewed the remainder as something which might be\nleft out of the account. It is long since one could properly speak of a\nRitschlian school. It will be long until we shall cease to reckon with a\nRitschlian influence. He did yeoman service in breaking down the high\nLutheran confessionalism which had been the order of the day. In his\nrecognition of the excesses of the Tuebingen school all would now agree.\nIn his feeling against mere sentimentalities of piety many sympathise.\nIn his emphasis upon the ethical and practical, in his urgency upon the\nactual problem of a man's vocation in the world, he meets in striking\nmanner the temper of our age. In his emphasis upon the social factor in\nreligion, he represents a popular phase of thought. With all of this, it\nis strange to find a man of so much learning who had so little sympathy\nwith the comparative study of religions, who was such a dogmatist on\nbehalf of his own inadequate notion of revelation, the logical effect of\nwhose teaching concerning the Church would be the revival of an\ninstitutionalism and externalism such as Protestantism has hardly known.\n\nSince Schleiermacher the German theologians had made the problem of the\nperson of Christ the centre of discussion. In the same period the\nproblem of the person of Christ had been the central point of debate in\nAmerica. Here, as there, all the other points arranged themselves about\nthis one. The new movement which went out from Ritschl took as its\ncentre the work of Christ in redemption. This is obvious from the very\ntitle of Ritschl's great book, _Die Christliche Lehre von der\nRechtfertigung und Versoehnung_. Of this work the first edition of the\nthird and significant volume was published in 1874. Before that time the\nformal treatises on theology had followed a traditional order of topics.\nIt had been assumed as self-evident that one should speak of a person\nbefore one talked of his work. It did not occur to the theologians that\nin the case of the divine person, at all events, we can securely say\nthat we know something as to his work. Much concerning his person must\nremain a mystery to us, exactly because he is divine. Our safest course,\ntherefore, would be to infer the unknown qualities of his person from\nthe known traits of his work. Certainly this would be true as to the\nwork of God in nature. This was not the way, however, in which the minds\nof theologians worked. The habit of dealing with conceptions as if they\nwere facts had too deep hold upon them. So long as men believed in\nrevelation as giving them, not primarily God and the transcendental\nworld itself, but information about God and the transcendental, they\nnaturally held that they knew as much of the persons of God and Christ\nas of their works.\n\nSchleiermacher had opened men's eyes to the fact that the great work of\nChrist in redemption is an inward one, an ethical and spiritual work,\nthe transformation of character. He had said, not merely that the\ntransformation of man's character follows upon the work of redemption.\nIt is the work of redemption. The primary witness to the work of Christ\nis, therefore, in the facts of consciousness and history. These are\ncapable of empirical scrutiny. They demand psychological investigation.\nWhen thus investigated they yield our primary material for any assertion\nwe may make concerning God. Above all, it is the nature of Jesus, as\nlearned on the evidence of his work in the hearts of men, which is our\ngreat revelation and source of inference concerning the nature of God.\nInstead of saying in the famous phrase, that the Christians think of\nChrist as God, we say that we are able to think of God, as a religious\nmagnitude, in no other terms than in those of his manifestation and\nredemptive activity in Jesus.\n\nNone since Kant, except extreme confessionalists, and those in\ndiminishing degree, have held that the great effect of the work of\nChrist was upon the mind and attitude of God. Less and less have men\nthought of justification as forensic and judicial, a declaring sinners\nrighteous in the eye of the divine law, the attribution of Christ's\nrighteousness to men, so far at least as to relieve these last of\npenalty. This was the Anselmic scheme. Indeed, it had been Tertullian's.\nLess and less have men thought of reconciliation as that of an angry God\nto men, more and more as of alienated men with God. The phrases of the\northodoxy of the seventeenth century, Lutheran as well as Calvinistic,\nsurvive. More and more new meaning, not always consistent, is injected\ninto them. No one would deny that the loftiest moral enthusiasm, the\nnoblest sense of duty, animated the hearts of many who thought in the\nterms of Calvinism. The delineation of God as unreconciled, of the work\nand sufferings of Christ as a substitution, of salvation as a\nconferment, caused gratitude, tender devotion, heroic allegiance in\nsome. It worked revulsion in others. It was protested against most\nradically by Kant, as indeed it had been condemned by many before him.\nFor Kant the renovation of character was the essential salvation. Yet\nthe development of his doctrine was deficient through the\nindividualistic form which it took. Salvation was essentially a change\nin the individual mind, brought about through the practical reason, and\nhaving its ideal in Jesus. Yet for Kant our salvation had no closer\nrelation to the historic revelation in Jesus. Furthermore, so much was\nthis change an individual issue that we may say that the actualisation\nof redemption would be the same for a given man, were he the only man in\nthe universe. To hold fast to the ethical idealism of Kant, and to\novercome its subjectivity and individualism, was the problem.\n\nThe reference to experience which underlies all that was said above was\nparticularly congruous with the mood of an age grown weary of\nHegelianism and much impressed with the value of the empirical method in\nall the sciences. Another great contention of our age is for the\nrecognition of the value of what is social. Its emphasis is upon that\nwhich binds men together. Salvation is not normally achieved except in\nthe life of a man among and for his fellows. It is by doing one's duty\nthat one becomes good. One is saved, not in order to become a citizen of\nheaven by and by, but in order to be an active citizen of a kingdom of\nreal human goodness here and now. In reality no man is being saved,\nexcept as he does actively and devotedly belong to that kingdom. The\nindividual would hardly be in God's eyes worth the saving, except in\norder that he might be the instrumentality of the realisation of the\nkingdom. Those are ideas which it is possible to exaggerate in statement\nor, at least, to set forth in all the isolation of their quality as\nhalf-truths. But it is hardly possible to exaggerate their significance\nas a reversal of the immemorial one-sidedness, inadequacy, and\nartificiality both of the official statement and of the popular\napprehension of Christianity. These ideas appeal to men in our time.\nThey are popular because men think them already. Men are pleased, even\nwhen somewhat incredulous, to learn that Christianity will bear this\nsocial interpretation. Most Christians are in our time overwhelmingly\nconvinced that in this direction lies the interpretation which\nChristianity must bear, if it is to do the work and meet the needs of\nthe age. Its consonance with some of the truths underlying socialism may\naccount, in a measure, for the influence which the Ritschlian theology\nhas had.\n\nAs was indicated, Ritschl's epoch-making book bears the title, _The\nChristian Doctrine of Justification and Reconciliation_. The book might\nbe described in the language of the schools as a monograph upon one\ngreat dogma of the Christian faith, around which, as the author treats\nit, all the other doctrines are arranged. The familiar topic of\njustification, of which Luther made so much, was thus given again the\ncentral place. What the book really offered was something quite\ndifferent from this. It was a complete system of theology, but it\ndiffered from the traditional systems of theology. These had followed\nhelplessly a logical scheme which begins with God as he is in himself\nand apart from any knowledge which we have of him. They then slowly\nproceeded to man and sin and redemption, one empirical object and two\nconcrete experiences which we may know something about. Ritschl reversed\nthe process. He aimed to begin with certain facts of life. Such facts\nare sin and the consciousness of forgiveness, awareness of restoration\nto the will and power of goodness, the gift of love and of a spirit\nwhich can feel itself victorious even in the midst of ills in life,\nconfidence that this life is not all. These phrases, taken together,\nwould describe the consciousness of salvation. This consciousness of sin\nand salvation is a fact in individual men. It has evidently been a fact\nin the life of masses of men for many generations. The facts have thus a\npsychology and a history from which reflection on the phenomenon of\nfaith must take its departure. There is no reason why, upon this basis,\nand until it departs from the scientific methods which are given with\nthe nature of its object, theology should not be as truly a science as\nis any other known among men.\n\nThis science starts with man, who in the object of many other sciences.\nIt confines itself to man in this one aspect of his relation to moral\nlife and to the transcendent meaning of the universe. It notes the fact\nthat men, when awakened, usually have the sense of not being in harmony\nwith the life of the universe or on the way to realisation of its\nmeaning. It notes the fact that many men have had the consciousness of\nprogressive restoration to that harmony. It inquires as to the process\nof that restoration. It asks as to the power of it. It discovers that\nthat power is a personal one. Men have believed that this power has been\nexerted over them, either in personal contact, or across the ages and\nthrough generations of believers, by one Jesus, whom they call Saviour.\nThey have believed that it was God who through Jesus saved them. Jesus'\nconsciousness thus became to them a revelation of God. The thought leads\non to the consideration of that which a saved man does, or ought to do,\nin the life of the world and among his fellows, of the institution in\nwhich this attitude of mind is cherished and of the sum total of human\ninstitutions and relations of which the saved life should be the inward\nforce. There is room even for a clause in which to compress the little\nthat we know of anything beyond this life. We have written in\nunconventional words. There is no one place, either in Ritschl's work or\nelsewhere, where this grand and simple scheme stands together in one\ncontext. This is unfortunate. Were this the case, even wayfaring men\nmight have understood somewhat better than they have what Ritschl was\naiming at.\n\nIt is a still greater pity that the execution of the scheme should have\nleft so much to be desired. That this execution would prove difficult\nneeds hardly to be said. That it could never be the work of one man is\ncertainly true. To have had so great an insight is title enough to fame.\nRitschl falls off from his endeavour as often as did\nSchleiermacher--more often and with less excuse. The might of the past\nis great. The lumber which he meekly carries along with him is\nsurprising, as one feels his lack of meekness in the handling of the\nlumber which he recognised as such. The putting of new wine into old\nbottles is so often reprobated by Ritschl that the reader is justly\nsurprised when he nevertheless recognises the bottles. The system is not\n'all of one piece'--distinctly not. There are places where the rent is\ncertainly made worse by the old cloth on the new garment. The work taken\nas a whole is so bewildering that one finds himself asking, 'What is\nRitschl's method?' If what is meant is not a question of detail, but of\nthe total apprehension of the problem to be solved, the apprehension\nwhich we strove to outline above, then Ritschl's courageous and complete\ninversion of the ancient method, his demand that we proceed from the\nknown to the unknown, is a contribution so great that all shortcomings\nin the execution of it are insignificant. His first volume deals with\nthe history of the doctrine of justification, beginning with Anselm and\nAbelard. In it Ritschl's eminent qualities as historian come out. In it\nalso his prejudices have their play. The second volume deals with the\nBiblical foundations for the doctrine. Ritschl was bred in the Tuebingen\nschool. Yet here is much forced exegesis. Ritschl's positivistic view of\nthe Scripture and of the whole question of revelation, was not congruous\nwith his well-learned biblical criticism. The third volume is the\nconstructive one. It is of immeasurably greater value than the other\ntwo. It is this third volume which has frequently been translated.\n\nIn respect of his contention against metaphysics it is hardly necessary\nthat we should go into detail. With his empirical and psychological\npoint of departure, given above, most men will find themselves in entire\nsympathy. The confusion of religion, which is an experience, with dogma\nwhich is reasoning about it, and the acceptance of statements in\nScripture which are metaphysical in nature, as if they were religious\ntruths--these two things have, in time past, prevented many earnest\nthinkers from following the true road. When it comes to the constructive\nportion of his work, it is, of course, impossible for Ritschl to build\nwithout the theoretical supports which philosophy gives, or to follow up\ncertain of the characteristic magnitudes of religion without following\nthem into the realm of metaphysics, to which, quite as truly as to that\nof religion, they belong. It would be unjust to Ritschl to suppose that\nthese facts were hidden from him.\n\nAs to his attitude toward mysticism, there is a word to say. In the long\nhistory of religious thought those who have revolted against\nmetaphysical interpretation, orthodox or unorthodox, have usually taken\nrefuge in mysticism. Hither the prophet Augustine takes refuge when he\nwould flee the ecclesiastic Augustine, himself. The Brethren of the Free\nSpirit, Tauler, a Kempis, Suso, the author of the _Theologia Germanica_,\nMolinos, Madame Gayon, illustrate the thing we mean. Ritschl had seen\nmuch of mysticism in pietist circles. He knew the history of the\nmovement well. What impressed his sane mind was the fact that unhealthy\nminds have often claimed, as their revelation from God, an experience\nwhich might, with more truth, be assigned to almost any other source. He\ndesired to cut off the possibility of what seemed to him often a tragic\ndelusion. The margin of any mystical movement stretches out toward\nmonstrosities and absurdities. For that matter, what prevents a Buddhist\nfrom declaring his thoughts and feelings to be Christianity? Indeed,\nRitschl asks, why is not Buddhism as good as such Christianity? He is,\ntherefore, suspicious of revelations which have nothing by which they\ncan be measured and checked.\n\nThe claim of mystics that they came, in communion with God, to the point\nwhere they have no need of Christ, seemed to him impious. There is no\nway of knowing that we are in fellowship with God, except by comparing\nwhat we feel that this fellowship has given us, with that which we\nhistorically learn that the fellowship with God gave to Christ. This is\nthe sense and this the connexion in which Ritschl says that we cannot\ncome to God save in and through the historic Christ as he is given us in\nthe Gospels. The inner life, at least, which is there depicted for us\nis, in this outward and authoritative sense, our norm and guide.\n\nLarge difficulties loom upon the horizon of this positivistic insistence\nupon history. Can we know the inner life of Christ well enough to use it\nthus as test in every, or even in any case? Does not the use of such a\ntest, or of any test in this external way, take us out of the realm of\nthe religion of the spirit? Men once said that the Church was their\nguide. Others said the Scripture was their guide. Now, in the sense of\nthe outwardness of its authority, we repudiate even this. It rings\ndevoutly if we say Christ is our guide. Yet, as Ritschl describes this\nguidance, in the exigency of his contention against mysticism, have we\nanything different? What becomes of Confucianists and Shintoists, who\nhave never heard of the historic Christ? And all the while we have the\nsense of a query in our minds. Is it open to any man to repudiate\nmysticism absolutely and with contumely, and then leave us to discover\nthat he does not mean mysticism as historians of every faith have\nunderstood it, but only the margin of evil which is apparently\ninseparable from it? That margin of evil others see and deplore. Against\nit other remedies have been suggested, as, for example, intelligence.\nSome would feel that in Ritschl's remedy the loss is greater than the\ngain.\n\nThis historical character of revelation is so truly one of the fountain\nheads of the theology which takes its rise in Ritschl, that it deserves\nto be considered somewhat more at length. The Ritschlian movement has\nengaged a generation of more or less notable thinkers in the period\nsince Ritschl's death. These have dissented at many points from\nRitschl's views, diverged from his path and marked out courses of their\nown. We shall do well in the remainder of this chapter to attempt the\ndelineation in terms, not exclusively of Ritschl, but of that which may\nwith some laxity be styled Ritschlianism. The value judgments of\nreligion indicate only the subjective form of religious knowledge, as\nthe Ritschlians understand it. Faith, however, does not invent its own\ncontents. Historical facts, composing the revelation, actually exist,\nquite independent of the use which the believer makes of them. No group\nof thinkers have more truly sought to draw near to the person of the\nhistoric Jesus. The historical person, Jesus of Nazareth, is the divine\nrevelation. That sums up this aspect of the Ritschlian position. Some\nnegative consequences of this position we have already noted. Let us\nturn to its positive significance.\n\nHerrmann is the one of the Ritschlians who has dealt with this matter\nnot only with great clearness, but also with deep Christian feeling in\nhis _Verkehr des Christen mit Gott_, 1886, and notably in his address,\n_Der Begriff der Offenbarung_, 1887. If the motive of religion were an\nintellectual curiosity, a verbal communication would suffice. As it is a\npractical necessity, this must be met by actual impulse in life. That\npassing out of the unhappiness of sin, into the peace and larger life\nwhich is salvation, does indeed imply the movement of God's spirit on\nour hearts, in conversion and thereafter. This is essentially mediated\nto us through the Scriptures, especially through those of the New\nTestament, because the New Testament contains the record of the\npersonality of Jesus. In that our personality is filled with the spirit\nwhich breathes in him, our salvation is achieved. The image of Jesus\nwhich we receive acts upon us as something indubitably real. It\nvindicates itself as real, in that it takes hold upon our manhood. Of\ncourse, this assumes that the Church has been right in accepting the\nGospels as historical. Herrmann candidly faces this question. Not every\nword or deed, he says, which is recorded concerning Jesus, belongs to\nthis central and dynamic revelation of which we speak. We do not help\nmen to see Jesus in a saving way if, on the strength of accounts in the\nNew Testament, we insist concerning Jesus that he was born of a virgin,\nthat he raised the dead, that he himself rose from the dead. We should\nnot put these things before men with the declaration that they must\nassent to them. We must not try to persuade ourselves that that which\nacted upon the disciples as indubitably real must of necessity act\nsimilarly upon us. We are to allow ourselves to be seized and uplifted\nby that which, in our position, touches us as indubitably real. This is,\nin the first place, the moral character of Jesus. It is his inner life\nwhich, on the testimony of the disciples, meets us as something real and\nactive in the world, as truly now as then. What are some facts of this\ninner life? The Jesus of the New Testament shows a firmness of religious\nconviction, a clearness of moral judgment, a purity and force of will,\nsuch as are not found united in any other figure in history. We have the\nimage of a man who is conscious that he does not fall short of the ideal\nfor which he offers himself. It is this consciousness which is yet\nunited in him with the most perfect humility. He lives out his life and\nfaces death in a confidence and independence which have never been\napproached. He has confidence that he can lift men to such a height that\nthey also will partake with him in the highest good, through their full\nsurrender to God and their life of love for their fellows.\n\nIt is clear that Herrmann aims to bring to the front only those elements\nin the life of Jesus which are likely to prove most effectual in meeting\nthe need and winning the faith of the men of our age. He would cast into\nthe background those elements which are likely to awaken doubt and to\nhinder the approach of men's souls to God. For Herrmann himself the\nvirgin birth has the significance that the spiritual life of Jesus did\nnot proceed from the sinful race. But Herrmann admits that a man could\nhold even that without needing to allege that the physical life of Jesus\ndid not come into being in the ordinary way. The distinction between the\ninner and outward life of Jesus, and the declaration that belief in the\nformer alone is necessary, has the result of thus ridding us of\nquestions which can scarcely fail to be present to the mind of every\nmodern man. Yet it would be unjust to imply that this is the purpose.\nQuite the contrary, the distinction is logical for this theology.\nRedemption is an affair of the inner life of a man. It is the force of\nthe inner life of the Redeemer which avails for it. It is from the\nbelief that such an inner and spiritual life was once realised here on\nearth, that our own faith gathers strength, and gets guidance in the\nconflict for the salvation of our souls. The belief in the historicity\nof such an inner life is necessary. So Harnack also declares in his\n_Wesen des Christenthums_, 1900. It is noteworthy that in this connexion\nneither of these writers advances to a form of speculation concerning\nthe exalted Christ, which in recent years has had some currency.\nAccording to this doctrine, there is ascribed to the risen and ascended\nJesus an existence with God which is thought of in terms different from\nthose which we associate with the idea of immortality. In other words,\nthis continued existence of Christ as God is a counterpart of that\nexistence before the incarnation, which the doctrine of the\npre-existence alleged. But surely this speculation can have no better\nstanding than that of the pre-existence.\n\nSin in the language of religion is defection from the law of God. It is\nthe transgression of the divine command. In what measure, therefore, the\nlife of man can be thought of as sinful, depends upon his knowledge of\nthe will of God. In Scripture, as in the legends of the early history of\nthe race, this knowledge stands in intimate connexion with the witness\nto a primitive revelation. This thought has had a curious history. The\nideas of mankind concerning God and his will have grown and changed as\nmuch as have any other ideas. The rudimentary idea of the good is\nprobably of social origin. It first emerges in the conflict of men one\nwith another. As the personalised ideal of conduct, the god then reacts\nupon conduct, as the conduct reacts upon the notion of the god. Only\nslowly has the ideal of the good been clarified. Only slowly have the\ngods been ethicised. 'An honest God is the noblest work of man.' The\nmoralising and spiritualising of the idea of Jahve lies right upon the\nface of the Old Testament. The ascent of man on his ethical and\nspiritual side is as certain as is that on his physical side. Long\nstruggle upward through ignorance, weakness, sin, gradual elevating of\nthe standard of what ought to he, growingly successful effort to conform\nto that standard--this is what the history of the race has seen.\n\nAthwart this lies the traditional dogma. The dogma took up into itself a\nlegend of the childhood of the world. It elaborated that which in\nGenesis is vague and poetic into a vast scheme which has passed as a\nsacred philosophy of history. It postulated an original revelation. It\naffirmed the created state of man as one of holiness before a fall. To\nthe framers of the dogma, if sin is the transgression of God's will,\nthen it must be in light of a revelation of that will. In the Scriptures\nwe have vague intimations concerning God's will, growingly clearer\nknowledge of that will, evolving through history to Jesus. In the dogma\nwe have this grand assumption of a paradisaic state of perfectness in\nwhich the will of God was from the beginning perfectly known.\n\nIn the Platonic, as in the rabbinic, speculation the idea must precede\nthe fact. Every step of progress is a defection from that idea. The\ndogma suffers from an insoluble contradiction within itself. It aims to\ngive us the point of departure by which we are to recognise the nature\nof sin. At the same moment it would describe the perfection of man at\nwhich God has willed that by age-long struggle he should arrive. Now, if\nwe place this perfection at the beginning of human history, before all\nhuman self-determination, we divest it of ethical quality. Whatever else\nit may be, it is not character. On the other hand, if we would make this\nperfection really that of moral character, then we cannot place it at\nthe beginning of human history, but far down the course of the evolution\nof the higher human traits, of the consciousness of sin and of the\nstruggle for redemption. It is not revelation from God, but naive\nimagination, later giving place to adventurous speculation concerning\nthe origin of the universe, which we have in the doctrine of the\nprimeval perfection of man. We do not really make earnest with our\nChristian claim that in Jesus we have our paramount revelation, until we\nadmit this. It is through Jesus, and not from Adam that we know sin.\n\nSo we might go on to say that the dogma of inherited guilt is a\ncontradiction in terms. Disadvantage may be inherited, weakness,\nproclivity to sin, but not guilt, not sin in the sense of that which\nentails guilt. What entails guilt is action counter to the will of God\nwhich we know. That is always the act of the individual man myself. It\ncannot by any possibility be the act of another. It may be the\nconsequence of the sins of my ancestors that I do moral evil without\nknowing it to be such. Even my fellows view this as a mitigation, if not\nas an exculpation. The very same act, however, which up to this point\nhas been only an occasion for pity, becomes sin and entails guilt, when\nit passes through my own mind and will as a defection from a will of God\nin which I believe, and as a righteousness which I refuse. The confusion\nof guilt and sin in order to the inclusion of all under the need of\nsalvation, as in the Augustinian scheme, ended in bewilderment and\nstultification of the moral sense. It caused men to despair of\nthemselves and gravely to misrepresent God. It is no wonder if in the\nage of rationalism this dogma was largely done away with. The religious\nsense of sin was declared to be an hallucination. Nothing is more\nevident in the rationalist theology than its lack of the sense of sin.\nThis alone is sufficient explanation of the impotency and inadequacy of\nthat theology. Kant's doctrine of radical evil testifies to his deep\nsense that the rationalists were wrong. He could see also the\nimpossibility of the ancient view. But he had no substitute. Hegel, much\nas he prided himself upon the restoration of dogma, viewed evil as only\nrelative, good in the making. Schleiermacher made a beginning of\nconstruing the thought of sin from the point of view of the Christian\nconsciousness. Ritschl was the first consistently to carry out\nSchleiermacher's idea, placing the Christian consciousness in the centre\nand claiming that the revelation of the righteousness of God and of the\nperfection of man is in Jesus. All men being sinners, there is a vast\nsolidarity, which he describes as the Kingdom of Evil and sets over\nagainst the Kingdom of God, yet not so that the freedom or\nresponsibility of man is impaired. God forgives all sin save that of\nwilful resistance to the spirit of the good. That is, Ritschl regards\nall sin, short of this last, as mainly ignorance and weakness. It is\nfrom Ritschl, and more particularly from Kaftan, that the phrases have\nbeen mainly taken which served as introduction to this paragraph.\n\nFor the work of God through Christ, in the salvation of men from the\nguilt and power of sin, various terms have been used. Different aspects\nof the work have been described by different names. Redemption,\nregeneration, justification, reconciliation and election or\npredestination--these are the familiar words. This is the order in which\nthe conceptions stand, if we take them as they occur in consciousness.\nElection then means nothing more than the ultimate reference to God of\nthe mystery of an experience in which the believer already rejoices. On\nthe other hand, in the dogma the order is reversed. Election must come\nfirst, since it is the decree of God upon which all depends. Redemption\nand reconciliation have, in Christian doctrine, been traditionally\nregarded as completed transactions, waiting indeed to be applied to the\nindividual or appropriated by him through faith, but of themselves\nwithout relation to faith. Reconciliation was long thought of as that of\nan angry God to man. Especially was this last the characteristic view of\nthe West, where juristic notions prevailed. Origen talked of a right of\nthe devil over the soul of man until bought off by the sacrifice of\nChrist. This is pure paganism, of course. The doctrine of Anselm marks a\ngreat advance. It runs somewhat thus: The divine honour is offended in\nthe sin of man. Satisfaction corresponding to the greatness of the guilt\nmust be rendered. Man is under obligation to render this satisfaction;\nyet he is unable so to do. A sin against God is an infinite offence. It\ndemands an infinite satisfaction. Man can render no satisfaction which\nis not finite. The way out of this dilemma is the incarnation of the\ndivine Logos. For the god-man, as man, is entitled to bring this\nsatisfaction for men. On the other hand, as God he is able so to do. In\nhis death this satisfaction is embodied. He gave his life freely. God\nhaving received satisfaction through him demands nothing more from us.\n\nAbelard had, almost at the same time with Anselm, interpreted the death\nof Christ in far different fashion. It was a revelation of the love of\nGod which wins men to love in turn. This notion of Abelard was far too\nsubtle. The crass objective dogma of Anselm prevailed. The death of\nChrist was a sacrifice. The purpose was the propitiation of an angry\nGod. The effect was that, on the side of God, a hindrance to man's\nsalvation was removed. The doctrine accurately reflects the feudal ideas\nof the time which produced it. In Grotius was done away the notion of\nprivate right, which lies at the basis of the theory of Anselm. That of\npublic duty took its place. A sovereign need not stand upon his offended\nhonour, as in Anselm's thought. Still, he cannot, like a private\ncitizen, freely forgive. He must maintain the dignity of his office, in\norder not to demoralise the world. The sufferings of Christ did not\neffect a necessary private satisfaction. They were an example which\nsatisfied the moral order of the world. Apart from this change, the\nconception remains the same.\n\nAs Kaftan argues, we can escape the dreadful externality and\nartificiality of this scheme, only as redemption and regeneration are\nbrought back to their primary place in consciousness. These are the\ninitial experiences in which we become aware of God's work through\nChrist in us and for us. The reconciliation is of us. The redemption is\nfrom our sins. The regeneration is to a new moral life. Through the\ninfluence of Jesus, reconciled on our part to God and believing in His\nunchanging love to us, we are translated into God's kingdom and live for\nthe eternal in our present existence. Redemption is indeed the work of\nGod through Christ, but it has intelligible parallel in the awakening of\nthe life of the mind, or again of the spirit of self-sacrifice, through\nthe personal influence of the wise and good. Salvation begins in such an\nawakening through the personal influence of the wisest and best. It is\ntransformation of our personality through the personality of Jesus, by\nthe personal God of truth, of goodness and of love. All that which God\nthrough Jesus has done for us is futile, save as we make the\nactualisation of our deliverance from sin our continuous and unceasing\ntask. When this connexion of thought is broken through, we transfer the\nwhole matter of salvation from the inner to the outer world and make of\nit a transaction independent of the moral life of man.\n\nJustification and reconciliation also are primarily acts and gifts of\nGod. Justification is a forensic act. The sense is not that in\njustification we are made just. We are, so to say, temporarily thus\nregarded, not that leniency may become the occasion of a new offence,\nbut that in grateful love we may make it the starting point of a new\nlife. We must justify our justification. It is easy to see the\nobjections to such a course on the part of a civil judge. He must\nconsider the rights of others. It was this which brought Grotius and the\nrest, with the New England theologians down to Park, to feel that\nforgiveness could not be quite free. If we acknowledge that this\nsymbolism of God as judge or sovereign is all symbolism, mere figure of\nspeech, not fact at all, then that objection--and much else--falls away.\nIf we assert that another figure of speech, that of God as Father, more\nperfectly suggests the relation of God and man, then forgiveness may be\nfree. Then justification and forgiveness are only two words for one and\nthe same idea. Then the nightmare of a God who would forgive and cannot,\nof a God who will forgive but may not justify until something further\nhappens, is all done away. Then the relation of the death of Jesus to\nthe forgiveness of our sins cannot be other than the relation of his\nlife to that forgiveness. Both the one and the other are a revelation of\nthe forgiving love of God. We may say that in his death the whole\nmeaning of his life was gathered. We may say that his death was the\nconsummation of his life, that without it his life would not have been\nwhat it is. This is, however, very far from being the ordinary statement\nof the relation of Jesus' death, either to his own life or to the\nforgiveness of our sins.\n\nThe doctrinal tradition made much also of the deliverance from\npunishment which follows after the forgiveness of sin. In fact, in many\nforms of the dogma, it has been the escape from punishment which was\nchiefly had in mind. Along with the forensic notion of salvation we\nlargely or wholly discard the notion of punishment. We retain only the\nsense that the consequence of continuing in sin is to become more\nsinful. God himself is powerless to prevent that. Punishment is\nimmanent, vital, necessary. The penalty is gradually taken away if the\nsin itself is taken away--not otherwise. It returns with the sin, it\ncontinues in the sin, it is inseparable from the sin. Punishment is no\nlonger the right word. Reward is not the true description of that\ngrowing better which is the consequence of being good. Reward or\npunishment as _quid pro quo_, as arbitrary assignments, as external\nequivalents, do not so much as belong to the world of ideas in which we\nmove. For this view the idea that God laid upon Jesus penalties due to\nus, fades into thin air. Jesus could by no possibility have met the\npunishment of sin, except he himself had been a sinner. Then he must\nhave met the punishment of his own sin and not that of others. That\nportion which one may gladly bear of the consequences of another's sin\nmay rightfully be called by almost any other name. It cannot be called\npunishment since punishment is immanent. Even eternal death is not a\njudicial assignment for our obstinate sinfulness. Eternal death is the\nobstinate sinfulness, and the sinfulness the death.\n\nIt must be evident that reconciliation can have, in this scheme, no\nmeaning save that man's being reconciled to God. Jesus reveals a God who\nhas no need to be reconciled to us. The alienation is not on the side of\nGod. That, being alienated from God, man may imagine that God is hostile\nto him, is only the working of a familiar law of the human mind. The\nfiction of an angry God is the most awful survival among us of primitive\npaganism. That which Jesus by his revelation of God brought to pass was\na true 'at-one-ment,' a causing of God and man to be at one again. To\nthe word atonement, as currently pronounced, and as, until a half\ncentury ago, almost universally apprehended, the notion of that which is\nsacrificial attached. To the life and death of Jesus, as revelation of\nGod and Saviour of men, we can no longer attach any sacrificial meaning\nwhatsoever. There is indeed the perfectly general sense in which so\nbeautiful a life and so heroic a death were, of course, a grand\nexemplification of self-sacrifice. Yet this is a sense so different from\nthe other and in itself so obvious, that one hesitates to use the same\nword in the immediate context with that other, lest it should appear\nthat the intention was to obscure rather than to make clear the meaning.\nFor atonement in a sense different from that of reconciliation, we have\nno significance whatever. Reconciliation and atonement describe one and\nthe same fact. In the dogma the words were as far as possible from being\nsynonyms. They referred to two facts, the one of which was the means and\nessential prerequisite of the other. The vicarious sacrifice was the\nantecedent condition of the reconciling of God. In our thought it is not\na reconciliation of God which is aimed at. No sacrifice is necessary. No\nsacrifice such as that postulated is possible. Of the reconciliation of\nman to God the only condition is the revelation of the love of God in\nthe life and death of Jesus and the obedient acceptance of that\nrevelation on the part of men.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL MOVEMENT\n\n\nIt has been said that in Christian times the relation of philosophy and\nreligion may be determined by the attitude of reason toward a single\nmatter, namely, the churchly doctrine of revelation.[4] There are three\npossible relations of reason to this doctrine. First, it may be affirmed\nthat the content of religion and theology is matter communicated to man\nin extraordinary fashion, truth otherwise unattainable, on which it is\nbeyond the competence of reason to sit in judgment. We have then the two\nspheres arbitrarily separated. As regards their relation, theology is at\nfirst supreme. Reason is the handmaiden of faith. It is occupied in\napplying the principles which it receives at the hands of theology.\nThese are the so-called Ages of Faith. Notably was this the attitude of\nthe Middle Age. But in the long run either authoritative revelation,\nthus conceived, must extinguish reason altogether, or else reason must\nclaim the whole man. After all, it is in virtue of his having some\nreason that man is the subject of revelation. He is continually asked to\nexercise his reason upon certain parts of the revelation, even by those\nwho maintain that he must do so only within limits. It is only because\nthere in a certain reasonableness in the conceptions of revealed\nreligion that man has ever been able to make them his own or to find in\nthem meaning and edification. This external relation of reason to\nrevelation cannot continue. Nor can the encroachments of reason be met\nby temporary distinctions such as that between the natural and the\nsupernatural. The antithesis to the natural is not the supernatural, but\nthe unnatural. The antithesis to reason is not faith, but irrationality.\nThe antithesis to human truth is not the divine truth. It is falsehood.\n\n[Footnote 4: Seth Pringle-Pattison, _The Philosophical Radicals_, p.\n216.]\n\nWhen men have made this discovery, a revulsion carries their minds to\nthe second position of which we spoke. This is, namely, the position of\nextreme denial. It is an attitude of negation toward revelation, such as\nprevailed in the barren and trivial rationalism of the end of the\neighteenth century. The reason having been long repressed revenges\nitself, usurping everything. The explanation of the rise of positive\nreligion and of the claim of revelation is sought in the hypothesis of\ndeceit, of ambitious priestcraft and incurable credulity. The religion\nof those who thus argue, in so far as they claim any religion, is merely\nthe current morality. Their explanation of the religion of others is\nthat it is merely the current morality plus certain unprovable\nassumptions. Indeed, they may think it to be but the obstinate adherence\nto these assumptions minus the current morality. It is impossible that\nthis shallow view should prevail. To overcome it, however, there is need\nof a philosophy which shall give not less, but greater scope to reason\nand at the same time an inward meaning to revelation.\n\nThis brings us to the third possible position, to which the best\nthinkers of the nineteenth century have advanced. So long as deistic\nviews of the relation of God to man and the world held the field,\nrevelation meant something interjected _ab extra_ into the established\norder of things. The popular theology which so abhorred deism was yet\nessentially deistic in its notion of God and of his separation from the\nworld. Men did not perceive that by thus separating God from the world\nthey set up alongside of him a sphere and an activity to which his\nrelations were transient and accidental. No wonder that other men,\nfinding their satisfying activity within the sphere which was thus\nseparated from God, came to think of this absentee God as an appendage\nto the scheme of things. But if man himself be inexplicable, save as\nsharing in the wider life of universal reason, if the process of history\nbe realised as but the working out of an inherent divine purpose, the\nmanifestation of an indwelling divine force, then revelation denotes no\nlonger an interference with that evolution. It is a factor in that\nevolution. It is but the normal relation of the immanent spirit of God\nto the children of men at the crises of their fate. Then revelation is\nan experience of men precisely in the line and according to the method\nof all their nobler experiences. It is itself reasonable and moral.\nInspiration is the normal and continuous effect of the contact of the\nGod who is spirit with man who is spirit too. The relation is never\nbroken. But there are times in which it has been more particularly felt.\nThere have been personalities to whom in eminent degree this depth of\ncommunion with God has been vouchsafed. To such persons and eras the\nreligious sense of mankind, by a true instinct, has tended to restrict\nthe words 'revelation' and 'inspiration.' This restriction, however,\nsignifies the separation of the grand experience from the ordinary, only\nin degree and not in kind. Such an experience was that of prophets and\nlaw-givers under the ancient covenant. Such an experience, in\nimmeasurably greater degree, was that of Jesus himself. Such a\nturning-point in the life of the race was the advent of Christianity.\nThe world has not been wrong in calling the documents of these\nrevelations sacred books and in attributing to them divine authority. It\nhas been largely wrong _in the manner in which it construed their\nauthority_. It has been wholly wrong in imagining that the documents\nthemselves were the revelation. They are merely the record _of a\npersonal communion with the transcendent_. It was Lessing who first cast\nthese fertile ideas into the soil of modern thought. They were never\nheartily taken up by Kant. One can think, however, with what enthusiasm\nmen recurred to them after their postulates had been verified and the\nidea of God, of man and of the world which they implied, had been\nconfirmed by Fichte and Schelling.\n\nIn the philosophical movement, the outline of which we have suggested,\nwhat one may call the _nidus_ of a new faith in Scripture had been\nprepared. The quality had been forecast which the Scripture must be\nfound to possess, if it were to retain its character as document of\nrevelation. In those very same years the great movement of biblical\ncriticism was gathering force which, in the course of the nineteenth\ncentury, was to prove by stringent literary and historical methods, what\nqualities the documents which we know as Scripture do possess. It was to\nprove in the most objective fashion that the Scripture does not possess\nthose qualities which men had long assigned to it. It was to prove that,\nas a matter of fact, the literature does possess the qualities which the\nphilosophic forecast, above hinted, required. It was thus actually to\nrestore the Bible to an age in which many reasonable men had lost their\nfaith in it. It was to give a genetic reconstruction of the literature\nand show the progress of the history which the Scripture enshrines.\nAfter a contest in which the very foundations of faith seemed to be\nremoved, it was to afford a basis for a belief in Scripture and\nrevelation as positive and secure as any which men ever enjoyed, with\nthe advantage that it is a foundation upon which the modern man can and\ndoes securely build. The synchronism of the two endeavours is\nremarkable. The convergence upon one point, of studies starting, so to\nsay, from opposite poles and having no apparent interest in common, is\ninstructive. It is an illustration of that which Comte said, that all\nthe great intellectual movements of a given time are but the\nmanifestation of a common impulse, which pervades and possesses the\nminds of the men of that time.\n\nThe attempt to rationalise the narrative of Scripture was no new one. It\ngrew in intensity in the early years of the nineteenth century. The\nconflict which was presently precipitated concerned primarily the\nGospels. It was natural that it should do so. These contain the most\nimportant Scripture narrative, that of the life of Jesus. Strauss had in\ngood faith turned his attention to the Gospels, precisely because he\nfelt their central importance. His generation was to learn that they\npresented also the greatest difficulties. The old rationalistic\ninterpretation had started from the assumption that what we have in the\ngospel narrative is fact. Yet, of course, for the rationalists, the\nfacts must be natural. They had the appearance of being supernatural\nonly through the erroneous judgment of the narrators. It was for the\ninterpreter to reduce everything which is related to its simple, natural\ncause. The water at Cana was certainly not turned into wine. It must\nhave been brought by Jesus as a present and opened thus in jest. Jesus\nwas, of course, begotten in the natural manner. A simple maiden must\nhave been deceived. The execution of this task of the rationalising of\nthe narratives by one Dr. Paulus, was the _reductio ad absurdum_ of the\nclaim. The most spiritual of the narratives, the finest flower of\nreligious poetry, was thus turned into the meanest and most trivial\nincident without any religious significance whatsoever. The obtuseness\nof the procedure was exceeded only by its vulgarity.\n\n\nSTRAUSS\n\n\nOn the other hand, as Pfleiderer has said, we must remember the\ndifficulty which beset the men of that age. Their general culture made\nit difficult for them to accept the miraculous element in the gospel\nnarrative as it stood. Yet their theory of Scripture gave them no notion\nas to any other way in which the narratives might be understood. The men\nhad never asked themselves how the narratives arose. In the preface to\nhis _Leben Jesu_, Strauss said: 'Orthodox and rationalists alike\nproceed from the false assumption that we have always in the Gospels\ntestimony, sometimes even that of eye-witnesses, to fact. They are,\ntherefore, reduced to asking themselves what can have been the real and\nnatural fact which is here witnessed to in such extraordinary way. We\nhave to realise,' Strauss proceeds, 'that the narrators testify\nsometimes, not to outward facts, but to ideas, often most poetical and\nbeautiful ideas, constructions which even eye-witnesses had\nunconsciously put upon facts, imagination concerning them, reflexions\nupon them, reflexions and imaginings such as were natural to the time\nand at the author's level of culture. What we have here is not\nfalsehood, not misrepresentation of the truth. It is a plastic, naive,\nand, at the same time, often most profound apprehension of truth, within\nthe area of religious feeling and poetic insight. It results in\nnarrative, legendary, mythical in nature, illustrative often of\nspiritual truth in a manner more perfect than any hard, prosaic\nstatement could achieve.' Before Strauss men had appreciated that\nparticular episodes, like the virgin birth and the bodily resurrection,\nmight have some such explanation as this. No one had ever undertaken to\napply this method consistently, from one end to the other of the gospel\nnarrative. What was of more significance, no one had clearly defined the\nconception of legend. Strauss was sure that in the application of this\nnotion to certain portions of the Scripture no irreverence was shown. No\nmoral taint was involved. Nothing which could detract from the reverence\nin which we hold the Scripture was implied. Rather, in his view, the\nhistory of Jesus is more wonderful than ever, when some, at least, of\nits elements are viewed in this way, when they are seen as the product\nof the poetic spirit, working all unconsciously at a certain level of\nculture and under the impulse of a great enthusiasm.\n\nThere is no doubt that Strauss, who was at that time an earnest\nChristian, felt the relief from certain difficulties in the biography of\nJesus which this theory affords. He put it forth in all sincerity as\naffording to others like relief. He said that while rationalists and\nsupernaturalists alike, by their methods, sacrificed the divine content\nof the story and clung only to its form, his hypothesis sacrificed the\nhistoricity of the narrative form, but kept the eternal and spiritual\ntruth. In his opinion, the lapse of a single generation was enough to\ngive room for this process of the growth of the legendary elements which\nhave found place in the written Gospels which we have. Ideas entertained\nby primitive Christians relative to their lost Master, have been, all\nunwittingly, transformed into facts and woven into the tale of his\ncareer. The legends of a people are in their basal elements never the\nwork of a single individual. They are never intentionally produced. The\nimperceptible growth of a joint creative work of this kind was possible,\nhowever, only on the supposition that oral tradition was, for a time,\nthe means of transmission of the reminiscences of Jesus. Strauss'\nexplanation of his theory has been given above, to some extent in his\nown words. We may see how he understood himself. We may appreciate also\nthe genuineness of the religious spirit of his work. At the same time\nthe thorough-going way in which he applied his principle, the relentless\nmarch of his argument, the character of his results, must sometimes have\nbeen startling even to himself. They certainly startled others. The\neffect of his work was instantaneous and immense. It was not at all the\neffect which he anticipated. The issue of the furious controversy which\nbroke out was disastrous both to Strauss' professional career and to his\nwhole temperament and character.\n\nDavid Friedrich Strauss was born in 1808 in Ludwigsburg in Wuerttemberg.\nHe studied in Tuebingen and in Berlin. He became an instructor in the\ntheological faculty in Tuebingen in 1832. He published his _Leben Jesu_\nin 1835. He was almost at once removed from his portion. In 1836 he\nwithdrew altogether from the professorial career. His answer to his\ncritics, written in 1837, was in bitter tone. More conciliatory was his\nbook, _Ueber Vergaengliches und Bleibendes im Christenthum_, published in\n1839. Indeed there were some concessions in the third edition of his\n_Leben Jesu_ in 1838, but these were all repudiated in 1840. His _Leben\nJesu fuer das deutsche Volk_, published in 1866 was the effort to\npopularise that which he had done. It is, however, in point of method,\nsuperior to his earlier work, Comments were met with even greater\nbitterness. Finally, not long before his death in 1874, he published\n_Der Alte und der Neue Glaube_, in which he definitely broke with\nChristianity altogether and went over to materialism and pessimism.\n\nPfleiderer, who had personal acquaintance with Strauss and held him in\nregard, once wrote: 'Strauss' error did not lie in his regarding some of\nthe gospel stories as legends, and some of the narratives of the\nmiraculous as symbols of ideal truths. So far Strauss was right. The\ncontribution which he made is one which we have all appropriated and\nbuilt upon. His error lay in his looking for those religious truths\nwhich are thus symbolised, outside of religion itself, in adventurous\nmetaphysical speculations. He did not seek them in the facts of the\ndevout heart and moral will, as these are illustrated in the actual life\nof Jesus.' If Strauss, after the disintegration in criticism of certain\nelements in the biography of Jesus, had given us a positive picture of\nJesus as the ideal of religious character and ethical force, his work\nwould indeed have been attacked. But it would have outlived the attack\nand conferred a very great benefit. It conferred a great benefit as it\nwas, although not the benefit which Strauss supposed. The benefit which\nit really conferred was in its critical method, and not at all in its\nresults.\n\nOf the mass of polemic and apologetic literature which Strauss' _Leben\nJesu_ called forth, little is at this distance worth the mentioning.\nUllmann, who was far more appreciative than most of his adversaries,\npoints out the real weakness of Strauss' work. That weakness lay in the\nfailure to draw any distinction between the historical and the mythical.\nHe threatened to dissolve the whole history into myth. He had no sense\nfor the ethical element in the personality and teaching of Jesus nor of\nthe creative force which this must have exerted. Ullmann says with\ncogency that, according to Strauss, the Church created its Christ\nvirtually out of pure imagination. But we are then left with the query:\nWhat created the Church? To this query Strauss has absolutely no answer\nto give. The answer is, says Ullmann, that the ethical personality of\nJesus created the Church. This ethical personality is thus a supreme\nhistoric fact and a sublime historic cause, to which we must endeavour\nto penetrate, if need be through the veil of legend. The old\nrationalists had made themselves ridiculous by their effort to explain\neverything in some natural way. Strauss and his followers often appeared\nfrivolous, since, according to them, there was little left to be\nexplained. If a portion of the narrative presented a difficulty, it was\ndeclared mythical. What was needed was such a discrimination between the\nlegendary and historical elements in the Gospels as could be reached\nonly by patient, painstaking study of the actual historical quality and\nstanding of the documents. No adequate study of this kind had ever been\nundertaken. Strauss did not undertake it, nor even perceive that it was\nto be undertaken. There had been many men of vast learning in textual\nand philological criticism. Here, however, a new sort of critique was\napplied to a problem which had but just now been revealed in all its\nlength and breadth. The establishing of the principles of this\nhistorical criticism--the so-called Higher Criticism--was the herculean\ntask of the generation following Strauss. To the development of that\nscience another Tuebingen professor, Baur, made permanent contribution.\nWith Strauss himself, sadder than the ruin of his career, was the\ntragedy of the uprooting of his faith. This tragedy followed in many\nplaces in the wake of the recognition of Strauss' fatal half-truth.\n\n\nBAUR\n\n\nBaur, Strauss' own teacher in Tuebingen, afterward famous as biblical\ncritic and church-historian, said of Strauss' book, that through it was\nrevealed in startling fashion to that generation of scholars, how little\nreal knowledge they had of the problem which the Gospels present. To\nBaur it was clear that if advance was to be made beyond Strauss'\nnegative results, the criticism of the gospel history must wait upon an\nadequate criticism of the documents which are our sources for that\nhistory. Strauss' failure had brought home to the minds of men the fact\nthat there were certain preliminary studies which must needs be taken\nup. Meantime the other work must wait. As one surveys the literature of\nthe next thirty years this fact stands out. Many apologetic lives of\nJesus had to be written in reply to Strauss. But they are almost\ncompletely negligible. No constructive work was done in this field until\nnearly a generation had passed.\n\nSince all history, said Baur, before it reaches us must pass through the\nmedium of a narrator, our first question as to the gospel history is\nnot, what objective reality can be accorded to the narrative itself.\nThere is a previous question. This concerns the relation of the\nnarrative to the narrator. It might be very difficult for us to make up\nour minds as to what it was that, in a given case, the witness saw. We\nhave not material for such a judgment. We have probably much evidence,\nup and down his writings, as to what sort of man the witness was, in\nwhat manner he would be likely to see anything and with what personal\nequation he would relate that which he saw. Baur would seem to have been\nthe first vigorously and consistently to apply this principle to the\ngospel narratives. Before we can penetrate deeply into the meaning of an\nauthor we must know, if we may, his purpose in writing. Every author\nbelongs to the time in which he lives. The greater the importance of his\nsubject for the parties and struggles of his day, the safer is the\nassumption that both he and his work will bear the impress of these\nstruggles. He will represent the interests of one or another of the\nparties. His work will have a tendency of some kind. This was one of\nBaur's oft-used words--the tendency of a writer and of his work. We must\nascertain that tendency. The explanation of many things both in the form\nand substance of a writing would be given could we but know that. The\nletters of Paul, for example, are written in palpable advocacy of\nopinions which were bitterly opposed by other apostles. The biographies\nof Jesus suggest that they also represent, the one this tendency, the\nother that. We have no cause to assert that this trait of which we speak\nimplies conscious distortion of the facts which the author would relate.\nThe simple-minded are generally those least aware of the bias in the\nworking of their own minds. It is obvious that until we have reckoned\nwith such elements as these, we cannot truly judge of that which the\nGospels say. To the elaboration of the principles of this historical\ncriticism Baur gave the labour of his life. His biblical work alone\nwould have been epoch-making.\n\nFerdinand Christian Baur was born in 1793 in Schmieden, near Stuttgart.\nHe became a professor in Tuebingen in 1826 and died there in 1860. He was\nan ardent disciple of Hegel. His greatest work was surely in the field\nof the history of dogma. His works, _Die Christliche Lehre von der\nVereoehnung_, 1838, _Die Christliche Lehre von der Dreieinigkeit und\nMenschwerdung Gottes_, 1841-1843, his _Lehrbuch der Christlichen\nDogmengeschichte_, 1847, together constitute a contribution to which\nHarnack's work in our own time alone furnishes a parallel. Baur had\nbegun his thorough biblical studies before the publication of Strauss'\nbook. The direction of those studies was more than ever confirmed by his\ninsight of the shortcomings of Strauss' work. Very characteristically\nalso he had begun his investigations, not at the most difficult point,\nthat of the Gospels, as Strauss had done, but at the easiest point, the\nEpistles of Paul. As early as 1831 he had published a tractate, _Die\nChristus-Partei in der Corinthischen Gemeinde_. In that book he had\ndelineated the bitter contest between Paul and the Judaising element in\nthe Apostolic Church which opposed Paul whithersoever he went. In 1835\nhis disquisition, _Die sogenannten Pastoral-Briefe_, appeared. In the\nteachings of these letters he discovered the antithesis to the gnostic\nheresies of the second century. He thought also that the stage of\norganisation of the Church which they imply, accorded better with this\nsupposition than with that of their apostolic authorship. The same\ngeneral theme is treated in a much larger way in Baur's _Paulus, der\nApostel Jesu Christi_, in 1845. Here the results of his study of the\nbook of the Acts are combined with those of his inquiries as to the\nPauline Epistles. In the history of the apostolic age men had been\naccustomed to see the evidence only of peace and harmony. Baur sought to\nshow that the period had been one of fierce struggle, between the narrow\nJudaic and legalistic form of faith in the Messiah and that conception,\nintroduced by Paul, of a world-religion free from the law. Out of this\nconflict, which lasted a hundred and fifty years, went forth the\nCatholic Church. The monuments of this struggle and witnesses of this\nprocess of growth are the New Testament writings, most of which were\nproduced in the second century. The only documents which we have which\nwere written before A.D. 70, were the four great Epistles of Paul, those\nto the Galatians, to the Romans, and to the Corinthians, together with\nthe Apocalypse.\n\nMany details in Baur's view are now seen to have been overstated and\nothers false. Yet this was the first time that a true historical method\nhad been applied to the New Testament literature as a whole. Baur's\ncontribution lay in the originality of his conception of Christianity,\nin his emphasis upon Paul, in his realisation of the magnitude of the\nstruggle which Paul inaugurated against Jewish prejudices in the\nprimitive Church. In his idea, the issue of that struggle was, on the\none hand, the freeing of Christianity from Judaism and on the other, the\ndeveloping of Christian thought into a system of dogma and of the\nscattered Christian communities into an organised Church. The Fourth\nGospel contains, according to Baur, a Christian gnosis parallel to the\ngnosis which was more and more repudiated by the Church as heresy. The\nLogos, the divine principle of life and light, appears bodily in the\nphenomenal world in the person of Jesus. It enters into conflict with\nthe darkness and evil of the world. This speculation is but thinly\nclothed in the form of a biography of Jesus. That an account completely\ndominated by speculative motives gives but slight guarantee of\nhistorical truth, was for Baur self-evident. The author remains unknown,\nthe age uncertain. The book, however, can hardly have appeared before\nthe time of the Montanist movement, that is, toward the end of the\nsecond century. Scholars now rate far more highly than did Baur the\nelement of genuine Johannine tradition which may lie behind the Fourth\nGospel and account for its name. They do not find traces of Montanism or\nof paschal controversies. But the main contention stands. The Fourth\nGospel represents the beginning of elaborate reflexion upon the life and\nwork of Jesus. It is what it is because of the fusion of the ethical and\nspiritual content of the revelation in the personality of Jesus, with\nmetaphysical abstractions and philosophical interpretation.\n\nBaur was by no means so fortunate in the solution which he offered of\nthe problem which the synoptic Gospels present. His opinions are of no\ninterest except as showing that he too worked diligently upon a question\nwhich for a long time seemed only to grow in complexity and which has\nbusied scholars practically from Baur's day to our own. His zeal here\nalso to discover dogmatic purposes led him astray. The _Tendenzkritik_\nhad its own tendencies. The chief was to exaggeration and one-sidedness.\nBaur had the kind of ear which hears grass grow. There is much\noverstrained acumen. Many radically false conclusions are reached by\nprejudiced operation with an historical formula, which in the last\nanalysis is that of Hegel. Everything is to be explained on the\nprinciple of antithesis. Again, the assumption of conscious purpose in\neverything which men do or write is a grave exaggeration. It is often in\ncontradiction of that wonderful unconsciousness with which men and\ninstitutions move to the fulfilment of a purpose for the good, the\npurpose of God, into which their own life is grandly taken up. To make\neach phase of such a movement the contribution of some one man's scheme\nor endeavour is, as was once said, to make God act like a professor.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe method of this book is that it seeks to deal only with men who have\ninaugurated movements, or marked some turning-point in their course\nwhich has proved of more than usual significance. The compass of the\nbook demands such a limitation. But by this method whole chapters in the\nlife of learning are passed over, in which the substance of achievement\nhas been the carrying out of a plan of which we have been able to note\nonly the inception. There is a sense in which the carrying out of a plan\nis both more difficult and more worthy than the mere setting it in\nmotion. When one thinks of the labour and patience which have been\nexpended, for example, upon the problem of the Gospels in the past\nseventy years, those truths come home to us. When one reminds himself of\nthe hypotheses which have been made but to be abandoned, which have yet\nhad the value that they at least indicated the area within which\nsolutions do not lie,--when one thinks of the wellnigh immeasurable toil\nby which we have been led to large results which now seem secure, one is\nmade to realise that the conditions of the advance of science are, for\ntheologians, not different from those which obtain for scholars who, in\nany other field, would establish truth and lead men. In a general way,\nhowever, it may be said that the course of opinion in these two\ngenerations, in reference to such questions as those of the dates and\nauthorship of the New Testament writings, has been one of rather\nnoteworthy retrogression from many of the Tuebingen positions. Harnack's\n_Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur_, 1893, and his _Chronologie\nder altchristlichen Literatur_, 1897, present a marked contrast to\nBaur's scheme.\n\n\nTHE CANON\n\n\nThe minds of New Testament scholars in the last generation have been\nengaged with a question which, in its full significance, was hardly\npresent to the attention of Baur's school. It is the question of the New\nTestament as a whole. It is the question as to the time and manner and\nmotives of the gathering together of the separate writings into a canon\nof Scripture which, despite the diversity of its elements, exerted its\ninfluence as a unit and to which an authority was ascribed, which the\nparticular writings cannot originally have had. When and how did the\nChristians come to have a sacred book which they placed on an equality\nwith the Old Testament, which last they had taken over from the\nsynagogue? How did they choose the writings which were to belong to this\nnew collection? Why did they reject books which we know were read for\nedification in the early churches? Deeper even than the question of the\ngrowth of the collection is that of the growth of the apprehension\nconcerning it. This apprehension of these twenty-seven different\nwritings as constituting the sole document of Christian revelation,\ngiven by the Holy Spirit, the identical holy book of the Christian\nChurch, gave to the book a significance altogether different from that\nwhich its constituent elements must have had for men to whom they had\nappeared as but the natural literary deposit of the religious movement\nof the apostolic age. This apprehension took possession of the mind of\nthe Christian community. It was made the subject of deliverances by\ncouncils of the Church. How did this great transformation take place?\nWas it an isolated achievement, or was it part of a general movement?\nDid not this development of life in the Christian communities which gave\nthem a New Testament belong to an evolution which gave them also the\nso-called Apostles' Creed and a monarchical organisation of the Church\nand the beginnings of a ritual of worship?\n\nIt is clear that we have here a question of greatest moment. With the\nrise of this idea of the canon, with the assigning to this body of\nliterature the character of Scripture, we have the beginning of the\nlarger mastery which the New Testament has exerted over the minds and\nlife of men. Compared with this question, investigations as to the\nauthorship and as to the time, place and circumstance of the production\nof particular books, came, for the time, to occupy a secondary rank. As\nthey have emerged again, they wear a new aspect and are approached in a\ndifferent spirit. The writings are revealed as belonging to a far larger\ncontext, that of the whole body of the Christian literature of the age.\nIt in no way follows from that which we have said that the body of\ndocuments, which ultimately found themselves together in the New\nTestament, have not a unity other than the outward one which was by\nconsensus of opinion or conciliar decree imposed upon them. They do\nrepresent, in the large and in varying degrees, an inward and spiritual\nunity. There was an inspiration of the main body of these writings, the\noutward condition of which, at all events, was the nearness of their\nwriters to Jesus or to his eye-witnesses, and the consequence of which\nwas the unique relation which the more important of these documents\nhistorically bore to the formation of the Christian Church. There was a\nheaven which lay about the infancy of Christianity which only slowly\nfaded into the common light of day. That heaven was the spirit of the\nMaster himself. The chief of these writings do centrally enshrine the\nfirst pure illumination of that spirit. But the churchmen who made the\ncanon and the Fathers who argued about it very often gave mistaken\nreasons for facts in respect of which they nevertheless were right. They\ngave what they considered sound external reasons. They alleged apostolic\nauthorship. They should have been content with internal evidence and\nspiritual effectiveness. The apostles had come, in the mind of the early\nChurch, to occupy a place of unique distinction. Writings long enshrined\nin affection for their potent influence, but whose origin had not been\nmuch considered, were now assigned to apostles, that they might have\nauthority and distinction. The theory of the canon came after the fact.\nThe theory was often wrong. The canon had been, in the main and in its\ninward principle, soundly constituted. Modern critics reversed the\nprocess. They began where the Church Fathers left off. They tore down\nfirst that which had been last built up. Modern criticism, too, passed\nthrough a period in which points like those of authorship and date of\nGospels and Epistles seemed the only ones to be considered. The results\nbeing here often negative, complete disintegration of the canon seemed\nthreatened, through discovery of errors in the processes by which the\ncanon had been outwardly built up. Men realise now that that was a\nmistake.\n\nTwo things have been gained in this discussion. There is first the\nrecognition that the canon is a growth. The holy book and the conception\nof its holiness, as well, were evolved. Christianity was not primarily a\nbook-religion save in the sense that almost all Christians revered the\nOld Testament. Other writings than those which we esteem canonical were\nlong used in churches. Some of those afterward canonical were not used\nin all the churches. In similar fashion we have learned that identical\nstatements of faith were not current in the earliest churches. Nor was\nthere one uniform system of organisation and government. There was a\ntime concerning which we cannot accurately use the word Church. There\nwere churches, very simple, worshipping communities. But the Church, as\noutward magnitude, as triumphant organisation, grew. So there were many\ncreeds or, at least, informally accredited and current beginnings of\ndoctrine. By and by there was a formally accepted creed. So there were\nfirst dearly loved memorials of Jesus and letters of apostolic men. Only\nby and by was there a New Testament. The first gain is the recognition\nof this state of things. The second follows. It is the recognition that,\ndespite a sense in which this literature is unique, there is also a\nsense in which it is but a part of the whole body of early Christian\nliterature. From the exact and exhaustive study of the early Christian\nliterature as a whole, we are to expect a clearer understanding and a\njuster estimate of the canonical part of it. It is not easy to say to\nwhom we have to ascribe the discovery and elaboration of these truths.\nThe historians of dogma have done much for this body of opinion. The\nhistorians of Christian literature have perhaps done more. Students of\ninstitutions and of the canon law have had their share. Baur had more\nthan an inkling of the true state of things. But by far the most\nconspicuous teacher of our generation, in two at least of these\nparticular fields, has been Harnack. In his lifelong labour upon the\nsources of Christian history, he had come upon this question of the\ncanon again and again. In his _Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte_,\n1887-1890, 4te. Aufl., 1910, the view of the canon, which was given\nabove, is absolutely fundamental. In his _Geschichte der altchristlichen\nLiteratur bis Eusebius_, 1893, and _Chronologic der allchristlichen\nLiteratur_, 1897-1904, the evidence is offered in rich detail. It was in\nhis tractate, _Das Neue Testament um das Jahr_ 200, 1889, that he\ncontended for the later date against Zahn, who had urged that the\noutline of the New Testament was established and the conception of it as\nScripture present, by the end of the first century. Harnack argues that\nthe decision practically shaped itself between the time of Justin\nMartyr, c. A.D. 150, and that of Irenaeus, c. A.D. 180. The studies of\nthe last twenty years have more and more confirmed this view.\n\n\nLIFE OF JESUS\n\n\nWe said that the work of Strauss revealed nothing so clearly as the\nignorance of his time concerning the documents of the early Christian\nmovement. The labours of Baur and of his followers were directed toward\novercoming this difficulty. Suddenly the public interest was stirred,\nand the earlier excitement recalled by the publication of a new life of\nJesus. The author was a Frenchman, Ernest Renan, at one time a candidate\nfor the priesthood in the Roman Church. He was a man of learning and\nliterary skill, who made his _Vie de Jesus_, which appeared in 1863, the\nstarting-point for a series of historical works under the general title,\n_Les Origines de Christianisme_. In the next year appeared Strauss'\npopular work, _Leben Jesu fuer das deutsche Volk_. In 1864 was published\nalso Weizsaecker's contribution to the life of Christ, his\n_Untersuchungen ueber die evangelische Geschichte_. To the same year\nbelonged Schenkel's _Charakterbild Jesu_. In the years from 1867-1872\nappeared Keim's _Geschichte Jesu von Nazara_. There is something very\nstriking in this recurrence to the topic. After ail, this was the point\nfor the sake of which those laborious investigations had been\nundertaken. This was and is the theme of undying religious interest, the\ncharacter and career of the Nazarene. Renan's philosophical studies had\nbeen mainly in English, studies of Locke and Hume. But Herder also had\nbeen his beloved guide. For his biblical and oriental studies he had\nturned almost exclusively to the Germans. There is a deep religious\nspirit in the work of the period of his conflict with the Church. The\nenthusiasm for Christ sustained him in his struggle. Of the days before\nhe withdrew from the Church he wrote: 'For two months I was a Protestant\nlike a professor in Halle or Tuebingen.' French was at that time a\nlanguage much better known in the world at large, particularly the\nEnglish-speaking world, than was German. Renan's book had great art and\ncharm. It took a place almost at once as a bit of world-literature. The\nnumber of editions in French and of translations into other languages is\namazing. Beyond question, the critical position was made known through\nRenan to multitudes who would never have been reached by the German\nworks which were really Renan's authorities. It is idle to say with\nPfleiderer that it is a pity that, having possessed so much learning,\nRenan had not possessed more. That is not quite the point. The book has\nmuch breadth and solidity of learning. Yet Renan has scarcely the\nhistorian's quality. His work is a work of art. It has the halo of\nromance. Imagination and poetical feeling make it in a measure what it\nis.\n\nRenan was born in 1823 in Treguier in Brittany. He set out for the\npriesthood, but turned aside to the study of oriental languages and\nhistory. He made long sojourn in the East. He spoke of Palestine as\nhaving been to him a fifth Gospel. He became Professor of Hebrew in the\n_College de France_. He was suspended from his office in 1863, and\npermitted to read again only in 1871. He had formally separated himself\nfrom the Roman Church in 1845. He was a member of the Academy. His\ndiction is unsurpassed. He died in 1894. In his own phrase, he sought to\nbring Jesus forth from the darkness of dogma into the midst of the life\nof his people. He paints him first as an idyllic national leader, then\nas a struggling and erring hero, always aiming at the highest, but\ndoomed to tragic failure through the resistance offered by reality to\nhis ideal. He calls the traditional Christ an abstract being who never\nwas alive. He would bring the marvellous human figure before our eyes.\nHe heightens the brilliancy of his delineation by the deep shadows of\nmistakes and indiscretion upon Jesus' part. In some respects an epic or\nan historical romance, without teaching us history in detail, may yet\nenable us by means of the artist's intuition to realise an event or\nperiod, or make presentation to ourselves of a personality, better than\nthe scant records acknowledged by the strict historian could ever do.\n\nOur materials for a real biography of Jesus are inadequate. This was the\nfact which, by all these biographies of Jesus, was brought home to men's\nminds. Keim's book, the most learned of those mentioned, is hardly more\nthan a vast collection of material for the history of Jesus' age, which\nhas now been largely superseded by Schuerer's _Geschichte des Judischen\nVolkes im Zeitalier Jesu Christi_, 2 Bde., 1886-1890. There have been\nagain, since the decade of the sixties, periods of approach to the great\nproblem. Weiss and Beyschlag published at the end of the eighties lives\nof Jesus which, especially the former, are noteworthy in their treatment\nof the critical material. They do not for a moment face the question of\nthe person of Christ. The same remark might be made, almost without\nexception, as to those lives of Jesus which have appeared in numbers in\nEngland and America. The best books of recent years are Albert Reville's\n_Jesus de Nazareth_, 1897, and Oscar Holtzmann's _Leben Jesu_, 1901. So\ngreat are the difficulties and in such disheartening fashion are they\nurged from all sides, that one cannot withhold enthusiastic recognition\nof the service which Holtzmann particularly has here rendered, in a\ncalm, objective, and withal deeply devout handling of his theme.\nMeantime new questions have arisen, questions of the relation of Jesus\nto Messianism, like those touched upon by Wrede in his _Das Messias\nGeheimniss in den Evangelien_, 1901, and questions as to the\neschatological trait in Jesus' own teaching. Schweitzer's book, _Von\nReimarus zu Wrede: eine Geschichte der Leben Jesu-Forschung_, 1906, not\nmerely sets forth this deeply interesting chapter in the history of the\nthought of modern men, but has also serious interpretative value in\nitself. For English readers Sanday's _Life of Christ in Recent\nResearch_, 1907, follows the descriptive aspect, at least, of the same\npurpose with Schweitzer's book, covering, however, only the last twenty\nyears.\n\nIt is characteristic that Ritschl, notwithstanding his emphasis upon the\nhistorical Jesus, asserted the impossibility of a biography of Jesus.\nThe understanding of Jesus is through faith. For Wrede, on the other\nhand, such a biography is impossible because of the nature of our\nsources. Not alone are they scant, but they are not biographical. They\nare apologetic, propagandist, interested in everything except those\nproblems which a biographer must raise. The last few years have even\nconjured up the question whether Jesus ever lived. One may say with all\nsimplicity, that the question has, of course, as much rightfulness as\nhas any other question any man could raise. The somewhat extended\ndiscussion has, however, done nothing to make evident how it could\narise, save in minds unfamiliar with the materials and unskilled in\nhistorical research. The conditions which beset us when we ask for a\nbiography of Jesus that shall answer scientific requirement are not\nessentially different from those which meet us in the case of any other\npersonage equally remote in point of time, and equally woven about--if\nany such have been--by the love and devotion of men. Bousset's little\nbook, _Was Wissen wir von Jesus?_ 1904, convinces a quiet mind that we\nknow a good deal. Qualities in the personality of Jesus obviously worked\nin transcendent measure to call out devotion. No understanding of\nhistory is adequate which has no place for the unfathomed in\npersonality. Exactly because we ourselves share this devotion, we could\nearnestly wish that the situation as to the biography of Jesus were\nother than it is.\n\n\nTHE OLD TESTAMENT\n\n\nWe have spoken thus far as if the whole biblical-critical problem had\nbeen that of the New Testament. In reality the same impulses which had\nopened up that question to the minds of men had set them working upon\nthe problem of the Old Testament as well. We have seen how the\nChristians made for themselves a canon of the New Testament. By the\nforce of that conception of the canon, and through the belief that,\nalmost in a literal sense, God was the author of the whole book, the\nobvious differences among the writings had been obscured. Men forgot the\nevolution through which the writings had passed. The same thing had\nhappened for the Old Testament in the Jewish synagogues and for the\nrabbis before the Christian movement. When the Christians took over the\nOld Testament they took it over in this sense. It was a closed book\nwherein all appreciation of the long road which the religion of Israel\nhad traversed in its evolution had been lost. The relation of the old\ncovenant to the new was obscured. The Old Testament became a Christian\nbook. Not merely were the Christian facts prophesied in the Old\nTestament, but its doctrines also were implied. Almost down to modern\ntimes texts have been drawn indifferently from either Testament to prove\ndoctrine and sustain theology. Moses and Jesus, prophets and Paul, are\ncited to support an argument, without any sense of difference. What we\nhave said is hardly more true of Augustine or Anselm than of the classic\nPuritan divines. This was the state of things which the critics faced.\n\nThe Old Testament critical movement is a parallel at all points of the\none which we have described in reference to the New. Of course, elder\nscholars, even Spinoza, had raised the question as to the Mosaic\nauthorship of certain portions of the Pentateuch. Roman Catholic\nscholars in the seventeenth century, for whom the stringent theory of\ninspiration had less significance than for Protestants, had set forth\nviews which showed an awakening to the real condition. Yet, at the\nbeginning of the nineteenth century, no one would have forecast a\nrevolution in opinion which would recognise the legendary quality of\nconsiderable portions of the Pentateuch and historical books, which\nwould leave but little that is of undisputed Mosaic authorship, which\nwould place the prophets before the law, which would concede the growth\nof the Jewish canon, which would perceive the relation of Judaism to the\nreligions of the other Semite peoples and would seek to establish the\ntrue relation of Judaism to Christianity.\n\nIn the year 1835, the same year in which Strauss' _Leben Jesu_ saw the\nlight, Wilhelm Vatke published his _Religion des Alten Testaments_.\nVatke was born in 1806, began to teach in Berlin in 1830, was professor\nextraordinarius there in 1837 and died in 1882, not yet holding a full\nprofessorship. His book was obscurely written and scholastic. Public\nattention was largely occupied by the conflict which Strauss' work had\ncaused. Reuss in Strassburg was working on the same lines, but published\nthe main body of his results much later.\n\nThe truth for which these scholars and others like them argued, worked\nits way slowly by force of its own merit. Perhaps it was due to this\nfact that the development of Old Testament critical views was subject to\na fluctuation less marked than that which characterised the case of the\nNew Testament. It is not necessary to describe the earlier stages of the\ndiscussion in Vatke's own terms. To his honour be it said that the views\nwhich he thus early enunciated were in no small degree identical with\nthose which were in masterful fashion substantiated in Holland by Kuenen\nabout 1870, in Germany by Wellhausen after 1878, and made known to\nEnglish readers by Robertson Smith In 1881.\n\nBudde has shown in his _Kanon des Alten Testaments_, 1900, that the Old\nTestament which lies before us finished and complete, assumed its\npresent form only as the result of the growth of several centuries. At\nthe beginning of this process of the canonisation stands that strange\nevent, the sudden appearance of a holy book of the law under King\nJosiah, in 621 B.C. The end of the process, through the decisions of the\nscribes, falls after the destruction of Jerusalem, possibly even in the\nsecond century. Lagarde seems to have proved that the rabbis of the\nsecond century succeeded in destroying all copies of the Scripture which\ndiffered from the standard then set up. This state of things has\nenormously increased a difficulty which was already great enough, that\nof the detection and separation of the various elements of which many of\nthe books in this ancient literature are made up. Certain books of the\nNew Testament also present the problem of the discrimination of elements\nof different ages, which have been wrought together into the documents\nas we now have them, in a way that almost defies our skill to disengage.\nThe synoptic Gospels are, of course, the great example. The book of the\nActs presents a problem of the same kind. But the Pentateuch, or rather\nHexateuch, the historical books in less degree, the writings even of\nsome of the prophets, the codes which formulate the law and ritual, are\ncomposites which have been whole centuries in the making and remaking.\nThere was no such thing as right of authorship in ancient Israel, little\nof it in the ancient world at all. What was once written was popular or\npriestly property. Histories were newly narrated, laws enlarged and\nrearranged, prophecies attributed to conspicuous persons. All this took\nplace not in deliberate intention to pervert historic truth, but because\nthere was no interest in historic truth and no conception of it. The\nrewriting of a nation's history from the point of view of its priesthood\nbore, to the ancient Israelite, beyond question, an aspect altogether\ndifferent from that which the same transaction would bear to us. The\ndifficulty of the separation of these materials, great in any case, is\nenhanced by the fact alluded to, that we have none but internal\nevidence. The success of the achievement, and the unanimity attained\nwith reference to the most significant questions, is one of the marvels\nof the life of learning of our age.\n\nIn the Jewish tradition it had been assumed that the Mosaic law was\nwritten down in the wilderness. Then, in the times of the Judges and of\nthe Kings, the historical books took shape, with David's Psalms and the\nwise words of Solomon. At the end of the period of the Kings we have the\nprophetic literature and finally Ezra and Nehemiah. De Wette had\ndisputed this order, but Wellhausen in his _Prolegomena zur Geshichte\nIsraels_, 1883, may be said to have proved that this view was no longer\ntenable. Men ask, could the law, or even any greater part of it, have\nbeen given to nomads in the wilderness? Do not all parts of it assume a\nsettled state of society and an agricultural life? Do the historical\nbooks from Judges to the II. Kings know anything about the law? Are the\npractices of worship which they imply consonant with the supposition\nthat the law was in force? How is it that that law appears both under\nJosiah and again under Ezra, as something new, thus far unknown, and yet\nas ruling the religious life of the people from that day forth? It seems\nimpossible to escape the conclusion that only after Josiah's\nreformation, more completely after the restoration under Ezra, did the\nreligion of the law exist. The centralisation of worship at one point,\nsuch as the book of Deuteronomy demands, seems to have been the thing\nachieved by the reform under Josiah. The establishment of the priestly\nhierarchy such as the code ordains was the issue of the religious\nrevolution wrought in Ezra's time. To put it differently, the so-called\n_Book of the Covenant, the nucleus of the law-giving_, itself implies\nthe multiplicity of the places of worship. Deuteronomy demands the\ncentralisation of the worship as something which is yet to take place.\nThe priestly Code declares that the limitation of worship to one place\nwas a fact already in the time of the journeys of Israel in the\nwilderness. It is assumed that the Hebrews in the time of Moses shared\nthe almost universal worship of the stars. Moses may indeed have\nconcluded a covenant between his people and Jahve, their God, hallowing\nthe judicial and moral life of the people, bringing these into relation\nto the divine will. Jahve was a holy God whose will was to guide the\npeople coming up out of the degradation of nature-worship. That part of\nthe people held to the old nature-worship is evident in the time of\nElijah. The history of Israel is not that of defection from a pure\nrevelation. It is the history of a gradual attainment of purer\nrevelation, of enlargement in the application of it, of discovery of new\nprinciples contained in it. It is the history also of the decline of\nspiritual religion. The zeal of the prophets against the ceremonial\nworship shows that. Their protest reveals at that early date the\nbeginning of that antithesis which had become so sharp in Jesus' time.\n\nThis determination of the relative positions of law and prophets was the\nfirst step in the reconstruction of the history, both of the nation of\nIsrael and of its literature. At the beginning, as in every literature,\nare songs of war and victory, of praise and grief, hymns, even riddles\nand phrases of magic. Everywhere poetry precedes prose. Then come myths\nrelating to the worship and tales of the fathers and heroes. Elements of\nboth these sorts are embedded in the simple chronicles which began now\nto be written, primitive historical works, such as those of the Jahvist\nand Elohist, of the narrators of the deeds of the judges and of David\nand of Saul. Perhaps at this point belong the earliest attempts at\nfixing the tradition of family and clan rights, and of the regulation of\npersonal conduct, as in the Book of the Covenant. Then comes the great\noutburst of the prophetic spirit, the preaching of an age of great\nreligious revival. Then follows the law, with its minute regulation of\nall details of life upon which would depend the favour of the God who\nhad brought punishment upon the people in the exile. The prophecy runs\non into apocalyptic like that of the book of Daniel. The contact with\nthe outside world makes possible a phase of literature such as that to\nwhich the books of Job and Ecclesiastes belong. The deepening of the\ninner life gave the world the lyric of the Psalms, some of which are\ncredibly assigned to a period so late as that of the Maccabees.\n\nIn this which has been said of the literature we have the clue also for\nthe reconstruction of the nation's history. The naive assumption in the\nwriting of all history had once been that one must begin with the\nbeginning. But to Wellhausen, Stade, Eduard Meyer and Kittel and\nCornill, it has been clear that the history of the earliest times is the\nmost uncertain. It is the least adapted to furnish a secure point of\ndeparture for historical inquiry. There exist for it usually no\ncontemporary authorities, or only such as are of problematical worth.\nThis earliest period constitutes a problem, the solution of which, so\nfar as any solution is possible, can be hoped for only through approach\nfrom the side of ascertained facts. We must start from a period which is\nhistorically known. For the history of the Hebrews, this is the time of\nthe first prophets of whom we have written records, or from whom we have\nwritten prophecies. We get from these, as also from the earliest direct\nattempts at history writing, only that conception of Israel's\npre-historic life which was entertained in prophetic circles in the\neighth century. We learn the heroic legends in the interpretation which\nthe prophets put upon them. We have still to seek to interpret them for\nourselves. We must begin in the middle and work both backward and\nforward. Such a view of the history of Israel affords every opportunity\nfor the connecting of the history and religion of Israel with those of\nthe other Semite stocks. Some of these have in recent years been\ndiscovered to offer extraordinary parallels to that which the Old\nTestament relates.\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF DOCTRINE\n\n\nWhen speaking of Baur's contribution to New Testament criticism, we\nalluded to his historical works. He was in a distinct sense a reformer\nof the method of the writing of church history. To us the notions of the\nhistorical and of that which is genetic are identical. Of course, naive\nreligious chronicles do not meet that test. A glance at the histories\nproduced by the age of rationalism will show that these also fall short\nof it. The perception of the relativity of institutions like the papacy\nis here wholly wanting. Men and things are brought summarily to the bar\nof the wisdom of the author's year of grace. They are approved or\ncondemned by this criterion. For Baur, all things had come to pass in\nthe process of the great life of the world. There must have been a\nrationale of their becoming. It is for the historian with sympathy and\nimagination to find out what their inherent reason was. One other thing\ndistinguishes Baur as church historian from his predecessors. He\nrealised that before one can delineate one must investigate. One must go\nto the sources. One must estimate the value of those sources. One must\nhave ground in the sources for every judgment. Baur was himself a great\ninvestigator. Yet the movement for the investigation of the sources of\nbiblical and ecclesiastical history which his generation initialed has\ngone on to such achievements that, in some respects, we can but view the\nfoundations of Baur's own work as precarious, the results at which he\narrived as unwarranted. New documents have come to light since his day.\nForgeries have been proved to be such, The whole state of learning as to\nthe literature of the Christian origins has been vastly changed. There\nis still another other thing to say concerning Baur. He was a Hegelian.\nHe has the disposition always to interpret the movements of the\nreligious spirit in the sense of philosophical ideas. He frankly says\nthat without speculation every historical investigation remains but a\nplay upon the surface of things. Baur's fault was that in his search\nfor, or rather in his confident discovery of, the great connecting\nforces of history, the biographical element, the significance of\npersonality, threatened altogether to disappear. The force in the\nhistory was the absolute, the immanent divine will. The method\neverywhere was that of advance by contrasts and antagonisms. One gets an\nimpression, for example, that the Nicene dogma became what it did by the\nmight of the idea, that it could not by any possibility have had any\nother issue.\n\nThe foil to much of this in Baur's own age was represented in the work\nof Neander, a converted Jew, professor of church history in Berlin, who\nexerted great influence upon a generation of English and American\nscholars. He was not an investigator of sources. He had no talent for\nthe task. He was a delineator, one of the last of the great painters of\nhistory, if one may so describe the type. He had imagination, sympathy,\na devout spirit. His great trait was his insight into personality. He\nwrote history with the biographical interest. He almost resolves history\ninto a series of biographical types. He has too little sense for the\nconnexion of things, for the laws of the evolution of the religious\nspirit. The great dramatic elements tend to disappear behind the\nemotions of individuals. The old delineators were before the age of\ninvestigation. Since that impulse became masterful, some historians have\nbeen completely absorbed in the effort to make contribution to this\ninvestigation. Others, with a sense of the impossibility of mastering\nthe results of investigation in all fields, have lost the zeal for the\nwriting of church history on a great scale. They have contented\nthemselves with producing monographs upon some particular subject, in\nwhich, at the most, they may hope to embody all that is known as to some\nspecific question.\n\nWe spoke above of the new conception of the relation of the canonical\nliterature of the New Testament to the extracanonical. We alluded to the\nnew sense of the continuity of the history of the apostolic churches\nwith that of the Church of the succeeding age. The influence of these\nideas has been to set all problems here involved in a new light. Until\n1886 it might have been said with truth that we had no good history of\nthe apostolic age. In that year Weizsaecker's book, _Das Apostolische\nZeitalter der Christlichen Kirche_, admirably filled the place. A part\nof the problem of the historian of the apostolic age is difficult for\nthe same reason which was given when we were speaking of the biography\nof Jesus. Our materials are inadequate. First with the beginning of the\nactivities of Paul have we sources of the first rank. The relation of\nstatements in the Pauline letters to data in the book of the Acts was\none of the earliest problems which the Tuebingen school set itself. An\nattempt to write the biography of Paul reminds us sharply of our\nlimitations. We know almost nothing of Paul prior to his conversion, or\nsubsequent to the enigmatical breaking off of the account of the\nbeginnings of his work at Rome. Harnack's _Mission und Ausbreitung des\nChristenthums_, 1902 (translated, Moffatt, 1908), takes up the work of\nPaul's successors in that cardinal activity. It offers, strange as it\nmay seem, the first discussion of the dissemination of Christianity\nwhich has dealt adequately with the sources. It gives also a picture of\nthe world into which the Christian movement went. It emphasises anew the\ntruth which has for a generation past grown in men's apprehension that\nthere is no possibility of understanding Christianity, except against\nthe background of the religious life and thought of the world into which\nit came. Christianity had vital relation, at every step of its progress,\nto the religious movements and impulses of the ancient world, especially\nin those centres of civilisation which Paul singled out for his\nendeavour and which remained the centres of the Christian growth. It was\nan age which has often been summarily described as corrupt. Despite its\ncorruption, or possibly because it was corrupt, it gives evidence,\nhowever, of religious stirring, of strong ethical reaction, of spiritual\nendeavour rarely paralleled. In the Roman Empire everything travelled.\nReligions travelled. In the centres of civilisation there was scarcely a\nfaith of mankind which had not its votaries.\n\nIt was an age of religious syncretism, of hospitality to diverse\nreligious ideas, of the commingling of those ideas. These things\nfacilitated the progress of Christianity. They made certain that if the\nChristian movement had in it the divine vitality which men claimed, it\nwould one day conquer the world. Equally, they made certain that, as the\nvery condition of this conquest, Christianity would be itself\ntransformed. This it is which has happened in the evolution of\nChristianity from its very earliest stages and in all phases of its\nlife. Of any given rite, opinion or institution, of the many which have\npassed for almost two millenniums unchallenged under the Christian name,\nmen about us are now asking: But how much of it is Christian? In what\nmeasure have we to think of it as derived from some other source, and\nrepresenting the accommodation and assimilation of Christianity to its\nenvironment in process of its work? What is Christianity? Not\nunnaturally the ancient Church looked with satisfaction upon the great\nchange which passed over Christianity when Constantine suddenly made\nthat which had been the faith of a despised and persecuted sect, the\nreligion of the world. The Fathers can have thought thus only because\ntheir minds rested upon that which was outward and spectacular. Not\nunnaturally the metamorphosis in the inward nature of Christianity which\nhad taken place a century and a quarter earlier was hidden from their\neyes. In truth, by that earlier and subtler transformation Christianity\nhad passed permanently beyond the stage in which it had been\npreponderantly a moral and spiritual enthusiasm, with its centre and\nauthority in the person of Jesus. It became a system and an institution,\nwith a canon of New Testament Scripture, a monarchical organisation and\na rule of faith which was formulated in the Apostles' Creed.\n\nTo Baur the truth as to the conflict of Paul with the Judaisers had\nmeant much. He thought, therefore, with reference to the rise of\npriesthood and ritual among the Christians, to the emphasis on Scripture\nin the fashion of the scribes, to the insistence upon rules and dogmas\nafter the manner of the Pharisees, that they were but the evidence of\nthe decline and defeat of Paul's free spirit and of the resurgence of\nJudaism in Christianity. He sought to explain the rise of the episcopal\norganisation by the example of the synagogue. Ritschl in his _Entstehung\nder alt-catholischen Kirche_, 1857, had seen that Baur's theory could\nnot be true. Christianity did not fall back into Judaism. It went\nforward to embrace the Hellenic and Roman world. The institutions,\ndogmas, practices of that which, after A.D. 200, may with propriety be\ncalled the Catholic Church, are the fruit of that embrace. There was\nhere a falling off from primitive and spiritual Christianity. But it was\nnot a falling back into Judaism. There were priests and scribes and\nPharisees with other names elsewhere. The phenomenon of the waning of\nthe original enthusiasm of a period of religious revelation has been a\nfrequent one. Christianity on a grand scale illustrated this phenomenon\nanew. Harnack has elaborated this thesis with unexampled brilliancy and\npower. He has supported it with a learning in which he has no rival and\nwith a religious interest which not even hostile critics would deny. The\nphrase, 'the Hellenisation of Christianity,' might almost be taken as\nthe motto of the work to which he owes his fame.\n\n\nHARNACK\n\n\nAdolf Harnack was born in 1851 in Dorpat, in one of the Baltic provinces\nof Russia. His father, Theodosius Harnack, was professor of pastoral\ntheology in the University of Dorpat. Harnack studied in Leipzig and\nbegan to teach there in 1874. He was called to the chair of church\nhistory in Giessen in 1879. In 1886 he removed to Marburg and in 1889 to\nBerlin. Harnack's earlier published work was almost entirely in the\nfield of the study of the sources and materials of early church history.\nHis first book, published in 1873, was an inquiry as to the sources for\nthe history of Gnosticism. His _Patrum Apostolicorum Opera_, 1876,\nprepared by him jointly with von Gehhardt and Zahn, was in a way only a\nforecast of the great collection, _Texte und Untersuchungen zur\nGeschickte der alt-christlichen Literatur_, begun in 1882, upon which\nnumbers of scholars have worked together with him. The collection has\nalready more than thirty-five volumes. In his own two works, _Die\nGeschichte der alt-christlichen Literatur bis Eusebius_, 1893, and _Die\nChronologie der alt-christlichen Literatur bis Eusebius_, 1897, are\ndeposited the results of his reflexion on the mass of this material. His\n_Beitrage zur Einleitung in das Neue Testament_, 1906, etc., should not\nbe overlooked. He has had the good fortune to be among those who have\ndiscovered manuscripts of importance. He has had to do with the Prussian\nAcademy's edition of the Greek Fathers. A list of his published works,\nwhich was prepared in connexion with the celebration of his sixtieth\nbirthday in 1911, bears witness to his amazing diligence and fertility.\nHe was for thirty-five years associated with Schurer in the publication\nof the _Theologische Literaturzeitung_. He has filled important posts in\nthe Church and under the government. To this must be added an activity\nas a teacher which has placed a whole generation of students from every\nportion of the world under undying obligation. One speaks with reserve\nof the living, but surely no man of our generation has done more to make\nthe history of which we write.\n\nHarnack's epoch-making work was his _Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte_,\n1886-88, fourth edition, 1910. The book met, almost from the moment of\nits appearance, with the realisation of the magnitude of that which had\nbeen achieved. It rested upon a fresh and independent study of the\nsources. It departed from the mechanism which had made the old treatises\nupon the history of doctrine formal and lifeless. Harnack realised to\nthe full how many influences other than theological had had part in the\ndevelopment of doctrine. He recognised the reaction of modes of life and\npractice, and of external circumstances on the history of thought. His\nhistory of doctrine has thus a breadth and human quality never before\nattained. Philosophy, worship, morals, the development of Church\ngovernment and of the canon, the common interests and passions of the\nage and those of the individual participants, are all made tributary to\nhis delineation.\n\nHarnack cannot share Baur's view that the triumph of the\nLogos-Christology at Nicaea and Chalcedon was inevitable. A certain\nhistoric naturalness of the movement he would concede, the world on\nwhich Christianity entered being what it was. He is aware, however, that\nmany elements other than Christian have entered into the development. He\nhas phrased his apprehension thus. That Hellenisation of Christianity\nwhich Gnosticism represented, and against which, in this, its acute\nform, the Church contended was, after all, the same thing which, by\nslower process and more unconsciously, befell the Church itself. That\npure moral enthusiasm and inspiration which had been the gist of the\nChristian movement, in its endeavour to appropriate the world, had been\nappropriated by the world in far greater measure than its adherents\nknew. It had taken up its mission to change the world. It had dreamed\nthat while changing the world it had itself remained unchanged. The\nworld was changed, the world of life, of feeling and of thought. But\nChristianity was also changed. It had conquered the world. It had no\nperception of the fact that it illustrated the old law that the\nconquered give laws to the conquerors. It had fused the ancient culture\nwith the flame of its inspiration. It did not appreciate the degree in\nwhich the elements of that ancient culture now coloured its far-shining\nflame. It had been a maker of history. Meantime it had been unmade and\nremade by its own history. It confidently carried back its canon, dogma,\norganisation, to Christ and the apostles. It did not realise that the\nvery fact that it could find these things natural and declare them\nancient, proved with conclusiveness that it had itself departed from the\nstandard of Christ and the apostles. It esteemed that these were its\ndefences against the world. It little dreamed that they were, by their\nvery existence, the evidence of the fact that the Church had not\ndefended itself against the world. Its dogma was the Hellenisation of\nits thought. Its organisation was the Romanising of its life. Its canon\nand ritual were the externalising, and conventionalising of its spirit\nand enthusiasm. These are positive and constructive statements of\nHarnack's main position.\n\nWhen, however, they are turned about and stated negatively, these\nstatements all convey, more or less, the impression that the advance of\nChristianity had been its destruction, and the evolution of dogma had\nbeen a defection from Christ. This is the aspect of the contention which\ngave hostile critics opportunity to say that we have before us the\nhistory of the loss of Christianity. Harnack himself has many sentences\nwhich superficially will bear that construction. Hatch had said in his\nbrilliant book, _The Influence of Greek Ideas and Usages upon the\nChristian Church_, 1891, that the domestication of Greek philosophy in\nthe Church signified a defection from the Sermon on the Mount. The\ncentre of gravity of the Gospel was changed from life to doctrine, from\nmorals to metaphysics, from goodness to orthodoxy. The change was\nportentous. The aspect of pessimism is, however, removed when one\nrecognises the inevitableness of some such process, if Christianity was\never to wield an influence in the world at all. Again, one must consider\nthat the process of the recovery of pure Christianity must begin at\nexactly this point, namely, with the recognition of how much in current\nChristianity is extraneous. It must begin with the sloughing off of\nthese extraneous elements, with the recovery of the sense for that which\noriginal Christianity was. Such a recovery would be the setting free\nagain of the power of the religion itself.\n\nThe constant touchstone and point of reference for every stage of the\nhistory of the Church must be the gospel of Jesus. But what was the\ngospel of Jesus? In what way did the very earliest Christians apprehend\nthat gospel? This question is far more difficult for us to answer than\nit was for those to whom the New Testament was a closed body of\nliterature, externally differentiated from all other, and with a\nmiraculous inspiration extending uniformly to every phrase in any book.\nThese men would have said that they had but to find the proper\ncombination of the sacred phrases. But we acknowledge that the central\ninspiration was the personality of Jesus. The books possess this\ninspiration in varying degree. Certain of the books have distinctly\nbegun the fusion of Christian with other elements. They themselves\nrepresent the first stages of the history of doctrine. We acknowledge\nthat those utterances of Jesus which have been preserved for us, shaped\nthemselves by the antitheses in which Jesus stood. There is much about\nthem that is palpably incidental, practically relevant and\nunquestionably only relative. In a large sense, much of the meaning of\nthe gospel has to be gathered out of the evidence of the operation of\nits spirit in subsequent ages of the Christian Church, and from remoter\naspects of the influence of Jesus on the world. Thus the very conception\nof the gospel of Jesus becomes inevitably more or less subjective. It\nbecomes an ideal construction. The identification of this ideal with the\noriginal gospel proclamation becomes precarious. We seem to move in a\ncircle. We derive the ideal from the history, and then judge the history\nby the ideal.\n\nIs there any escape from this situation, short of the return to the\nauthority of Church or Scripture in the ancient sense? Furthermore, even\nthe men to whom the gospel was in the strictest sense a letter,\nidentified the gospel with their own private interpretation of this\nletter. Certainly the followers of Ritschl who will acknowledge no\ntraits of the gospel save those of which they find direct witness in the\nGospels, thus ignore that the Gospels are themselves interpretations.\nThis undue stress upon the documents which we are fortunate enough to\npossess, makes us forget the limitations of these documents. We tend\nthus to exaggerate that which must be only incidental, as, for example,\nthe Jewish element, in the teaching of Jesus. We thus underrate phases\nof Jesus' teaching which, no doubt, a man like Paul would have\napprehended better than did the evangelists themselves. In truth, in\nHarnack's own delineation of the teaching of Jesus, those elements of it\nwhich found their way to expression in Paul, or again in the fourth\nGospel, are rather underrated than overstated, in the author's anxiety\nto exclude elements which are acknowledged to be interpretative in their\nnature. We are driven, in some measure, to seek to find out what the\ngospel was from the way in which the earliest Christians took it up. We\nreturn ever afresh to questions nearly unanswerable from the materials\nat hand. What was the central principle in the shaping of the earliest\nstages of the new community, both as to its thought and life? Was it the\nlonging for the coming of the Kingdom of God, the striving after the\nrighteousness of the Sermon on the Mount? Or was it the faith of the\nMessiah, the reverence for the Messiah, directed to the person of Jesus?\nWhat word dominated the preaching? Was it that the Kingdom of God was\nnear, that the Son of Man would come? Or was it that in Jesus Messiah\nhas come? What was the demand upon the hearer? Was it, Repent, or was\nit, Believe on the Lord Jesus, or was it both, and which had the greater\nemphasis? Was the name of Jesus used in the formulas of worship before\nthe time of Paul? What do we know about prayer in the name of Jesus, or\nbaptism in that name, or miracles in the name of Jesus, or of the Lord's\nSupper and the conception of the Lord as present with his disciples in\nthe rite? Was this revering of Jesus, which was fast moving toward a\nworship of him, the inner motive force of the whole construction of the\ndogma of his person and of the trinity?\n\nIn the second volume Harnack treats of the development primarily of the\nChristological and trinitarian dogma, from the fourth to the seventh\ncenturies. The dramatic interest of the narrative exceeds anything which\nhas been written on this theme. A debate which to most modern men is\nremote and abstruse almost to the point of unintelligibility, and of\nwhich many of the external aspects are disheartening in the extreme, is\nhere brought before us in something of the reasonableness which it must\nhave had for those who took part in it. Tertullian shaped the problem\nand established the nomenclature for the Christological solution which\nthe Orient two hundred years later made its own. It was he who, from the\npoint of view of the Jurist, rather than of the philosopher, gave the\nwords 'person' and 'substance,' which continually occur in this\ndiscussion, the meaning which in the Nicene Creed they bear. Most\nbrilliant is Harnack's characterisation of Arius and Athanasius. In\nArius the notion of the Son of God is altogether done away. Only the\nname remains. The victory of Arianism would have resolved Christianity\ninto cosmology and formal ethics. It would have destroyed it as\nreligion. Yet the perverse situation into which the long and fierce\ncontroversy had drifted cannot be better illustrated than by one\nundisputed fact. Athanasius, who assured for Christianity its character\nas a religion of the living communion of God with man, is yet the\ntheologian in whose Christology almost every possible trace of the\nrecollection of the historic Jesus has disappeared. The purpose of the\nredemption is to bring men into community of life with God. But\nAthanasius apprehended this redemption as a conferment, from without and\nfrom above, of a divine nature. He subordinated everything to this idea.\nThe whole narrative concerning Jesus falls under the interpretation that\nthe only quality requisite for the Redeemer in his work was the\npossession in all fulness of the divine nature. His incarnation, his\nmanifestation in real human life, held fast to in word, is reduced to a\nmere semblance. Salvation is not an ethical process, but a miraculous\nendowment. The Christ, who was God, lifts men up to godhood. They become\nGod. These phrases are of course capable of ethical and intelligible\nmeaning. The development of the doctrine, however, threw the emphasis\nupon the metaphysical and miraculous aspects of the work. It gloried in\nthe fact that the presence of divine and human, two natures in one\nperson forever, was unintelligible. In the end it came to pass that the\nenthusiastic assent to that which defied explanation became the very\nmark of a humble and submissive faith. One reads the so-called\nAthanasian Creed, and hears the ring of its determination to exact\nassent. It had long since been clear to these Catholics and churchmen\nthat, with the mere authority of Scripture, it was not possible to\ndefend Christianity against the heretics. The heresies read their\nheresies out of the Bible. The orthodox read orthodoxy from the same\npage. Marcion had proved that, in the very days when the canon took its\nshape. There must be an authority to define the interpretation of the\nScripture. Those who would share the benefits which the Church dispensed\nmust assent unconditionally to the terms of membership.\n\nAll these questions were veiled for the early Christians behind the\nquestion of the kind of Christ in whom their hearts believed. With all\nthat we have said about the reprehensible admixture of the metaphysical\nelement in the dogma, with all the accusation which we bring concerning\nacute or gradual Hellenisation, secularisation and defection from the\nChrist, we ought not to hide from ourselves that in this gigantic\nstruggle there were real religious interests at stake, and that for the\nmen of both parties. Dimly, or perhaps vividly, the man of either party\nfelt that the conception of the Christ which he was fighting for was\ncongruous with the conception of religion which he had, or felt that he\nmust have. It is this religious issue, everywhere present, which gives\ndignity to a struggle which otherwise does often sadly lack it. There\nare two religious views of the person of Christ which have stood, from\nthe beginning, the one over against the other.[5] The one saw in Jesus\nof Nazareth a man, distinguished by his special calling as the Messianic\nKing, endued with special powers, lifted above all men ever known, yet a\nman, completely subject to God in faith, obedience and prayer. This view\nis surely sustained by many of Jesus' own words and deeds. It shines\nthrough the testimony of the men who followed him. Even the belief in\nhis resurrection and his second coming did not altogether do away with\nit. The other view saw in him a new God who, descending from God,\nbrought mysterious powers for the redemption of mankind into the world,\nand after short obscuring of his glory, returned to the abode of God,\nwhere he had been before. From this belief come all the hymns and\nprayers to Jesus as to God, all miracles and exorcisms in his name.\n\n[Footnote 5: Wernle, _Einfzhrung in das Theologische Studium_, 1908, v.\n204.]\n\nIn the long run, the simpler view did not maintain itself. If false gods\nand demons were expelled, it was the God Jesus who expelled them. The\nmore modest faith believed that in the man Jesus, being such an one as\nhe was, men had received the greatest gift which the love of God had to\nbestow. In turn the believer felt the assurance that he also was a child\nof God, and in the spirit of Jesus was to realise that sonship.\nSyncretist religions suggested other thoughts. We see that already even\nin the synoptic tradition the calling upon the name of Jesus had found\nplace. One wonders whether that first apprehension ever stood alone in\nits purity. The Gentile Churches founded by Paul, at all events, had no\nsuch simple trust. Equally, the second form of faith seems never to have\nbeen able to stand alone in its peculiar quality. Some of the gnostic\nsects had it. Marcion again is our example. The new God Jesus had\nnothing to do with the cruel God of the Old Testament. He supplanted the\nold God and became the only God. In the Church the new God, come down\nfrom heaven, must be set in relation with the long-known God of Israel.\nNo less, must he stand in relation to the simple hero of the Gospels\nwith his human traits. The problem of theological reflexion was to find\nthe right middle course, to keep the divine Christ in harmony, on the\none side, with monotheism, and on the other, with the picture which the\nGospels gave. Belief knew nothing of these contradictions. The same\nsimple soul thanked God for Jesus with his sorrows and his sympathy, as\nman's guide and helper, and again prayed to Jesus because he seemed too\nwonderful to be a man. The same kind of faith achieves the same\nwondering and touching combination to-day, after two thousand years.\nWith thought comes trouble. Reflexion wears itself out upon the\ninsoluble difficulty, the impossible combination, the flat\ncontradiction, which the two views present, so soon as they are clearly\nseen.\n\nIn the earliest Christian writings the fruit of this reflexion lies\nbefore us in this form:--The Creator of worlds, the mediator, the lord\nof angels and demons, the Logos which was God and is our Saviour, was\nyet a humble son of man, undergoing suffering and death, having laid\naside his divine glory. This picture is made with materials which the\ncanonical writings themselves afford. Theological study had henceforth\nnothing to do but to avoid extremes and seek to make this image, which\nreflexion upon two polar opposites had yielded, as nearly thinkable as\npossible. It has been said that the trinitarian doctrine is not in the\nNew Testament, that it was later elaborated by a different kind of mind.\nThis is not true. But the inference is precisely the contrary of that\nwhich defenders of the dogma would formerly have drawn from this\nconcession. The same kind of mind, or rather the same two kinds of mind,\nare at work in the New Testament. Both of the religious elements above\nsuggested are in the Gospels and Epistles. The New Testament presents\nattempts at their combination. Either form may be found in the\nliterature of the later age. If we ask ourselves, What is that in Jesus\nwhich gives us the sense of redemption, surely we should answer, It is\nhis glad and confident resting in the love of God the Father. It is his\ncourage, his faith in men, which becomes our faith in ourselves. It is\nhis wonderful mingling of purity and love of righteousness with love of\nthose who have sinned. You may find this in the ancient literature, as\nthe Fathers describe that to which their souls cling. But this is not\nthe point of view from which the dogma is organised. The Nicene\nChristology is not to be understood from this approach. The cry of a\ndying civilisation after power and light and life, the feeling that\nthese might come to it, streaming down as it were, from above, as a\nphysical, a mechanical, a magical deliverance, this is the frame within\nwhich is set what is here said of the help and redemption wrought by\nChrist. The resurrection and the incarnation are the points at which\nthis streaming in of the divine light and power upon a darkened world is\nfelt.\n\nThat religion seemed the highest, that interpretation of Christianity\nthe truest, the absolute one, which could boast that it possessed the\npower of the Almighty through his physical union with men. He who\ncontended that Jesus was God, contended therewith for a power which\ncould come upon men and make them in some sense one with God. This is\nthe view which has been almost exclusively held in the Greek Church. It\nis the view which has run under and through and around the other\nconception in the Roman and Protestant Churches. The sense that\nsalvation is inward, moral, spiritual, has rarely indeed been absent\nfrom Christendom. It would be preposterous to allege that it had. Yet\nthis sense has been overlaid and underrun and shot through with that\nother and disparate idea of salvation, as of a pure bestowment,\nsomething achieved apart from us, or, if one may so say, some alteration\nof ourselves upon other than moral and spiritual terms. The conception\nof the person Christ shows the same uncertainty. Or rather, with a given\nview of the nature of religion and salvation, the corresponding view of\nChrist is certain. In the age-long and world-wide contest over the\ntrinitarian formula, with all that is saddening in the struggle and all\nthat was misleading in the issue, it is because we see men struggling to\ncome into the clear as to these two meanings of religion, that the\ncontest has such absorbing interest. Men have been right in declining to\ncall that religion in which a man saves himself. They have been wrong in\nesteeming that they were then only saved of God or Christ when they were\nsaved by an obviously external process. Even this antinomy is softened\nwhen one no longer holds that God and men are mutually exclusive\nconceptions. It is God working within us who saves, the God who in Jesus\nworked such a wonder of righteousness and love as else the world has\nnever seen.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE CONTRIBUTION OF THE NATURAL AND SOCIAL SCIENCES\n\n\nBy the middle of the nineteenth century the empirical sciences had\nundergone vast expansion in the study of detail and in the discovery of\nprinciples. Men felt the necessity of some adequate discussion of the\nrelation of these sciences one to another and of their unity. There was\nneed of the organisation of the mass of knowledge, largely new and ever\nincreasing, which the sciences furnished. It lay in the logic of the\ncase that some of these attempts should advance the bold claim to deal\nwith all knowledge whatsoever and to offer a theory of the universe as a\nwhole. Religion, both in its mythological and in its theological stages,\nhad offered a theory of the universe as a whole. The great metaphysical\nsystems had offered theories of the universe as a whole. Both had\nprofessed to include all facts. Notoriously both theology and\nmetaphysics had dealt in most inadequate fashion with the material\nworld, in the study of which the sciences were now achieving great\nresults. Indeed, the methods current and authoritative with theologians\nand metaphysicians had actually prevented study of the physical\nuniverse. Both of these had invaded areas of fact to which their methods\nhad no application and uttered dicta which had no relation to truth. The\nvery life of the sciences depended upon deliverance from this bondage.\nThe record of that deliverance is one of the most dramatic chapters in\nthe history of thought. Could one be surprised if, in the resentment\nwhich long oppression had engendered and in the joy which overwhelming\nvictory had brought, scientific men now invaded the fields of their\nopponents? They repaid their enemies in their own coin. There was with\nsome a disposition to deny that there exists an area of knowledge to\nwhich the methods of metaphysicians and theologians might apply. This\nwas Comte's contention. Others conceded that there might be such an\narea, but claimed that we can have no knowledge of it. Even the\ntheologians, after their first shock, were disposed to concede that,\nconcerning the magnitudes in which they were most interested, as for\nexample, God and soul, we have no knowledge of the sort which the method\nof the physical sciences would give. They fell back upon Kant's\ndistinction of the two reasons and two worlds. They exaggerated the\nsharpness of that distinction. They learned that the claim of\nagnosticism was capable of being viewed as a line of defence, behind\nwhich the transcendental magnitudes might be secure. Indeed, if one may\ntake Spencer as an example, it is not certain that this was not the\nintent of some of the scientists in their strong assertion of\nagnosticism. Spencer's later work reveals that he had no disposition to\ndeny that there are foundations for belief in a world lying behind the\nphenomenal, and from which the latter gets its meaning.\n\nMeantime, after positivism was buried and agnosticism dead, a thing was\nachieved for which Comte himself laid the foundation and in which\nSpencer as he grew older was ever more deeply interested. This was the\ngreat development of the social sciences. Every aspect of the life of\nman, including religion itself, has been drawn within the area of the\nsocial sciences. To all these subjects, including religion, there have\nbeen applied empirical methods which have the closest analogy with those\nwhich have reigned in the physical sciences. Psychology has been made a\nscience of experiment, and the psychology of religion has been given a\nplace within the area of its observations and generalizations. The\nethical, and again the religious consciousness has been subjected to the\nsame kind of investigation to which all other aspects of consciousness\nare subjected. Effort has been made to ascertain and classify the\nphenomena of the religious life of the race in all lands and in all\nages. A science of religions is taking its place among the other\nsciences. It is as purely an inductive science as is any other. The\nhistory of religions and the philosophy of religion are being rewritten\nfrom this point of view.\n\nIn the first lines of this chapter we spoke of the empirical sciences,\nmeaning the sciences of the material world. It is clear, however, that\nthe sciences of mind, of morals and of religion have now become\nempirical sciences. They have their basis in experience, the experience\nof individuals and the experience of masses of men, of ages of\nobservable human life. They all proceed by the method of observation and\ninference, of hypothesis and verification. There is a unity of method as\nbetween the natural and social and psychical sciences, the reach of\nwhich is startling to reflect upon. Indeed, the physiological aspects of\npsychology, the investigations of the relation of adolescence to\nconversion, suggest that the distinction between the physical and the\npsychical is a vanishing distinction. Science comes nearer to offering\nan interpretation of the universe as a whole than the opening paragraphs\nof this chapter would imply. But it does so by including religion, not\nby excluding it. No one would any longer think of citing Kant's\ndistinction of two reasons and two worlds in the sense of establishing a\ncity of refuge into which the persecuted might flee. Kant rendered\nincomparable service by making clear two poles of thought. Yet we must\nrealise how the space between is filled with the gradations of an\nabsolute continuity of activity. Man has but one reason. This may\nconceivably operate upon appropriate material in one or the other of\nthese polar fashions. It does operate in infinite variations of degree,\nin unity with itself, after both fashions, at all times and upon all\nmaterials.\n\nPositivism was a system. Agnosticism was at least a phase of thought.\nThe broadening of the conception of science and the invasion of every\narea of life by a science thus broadly conceived, has been an influence\nless tangible than those others but not, therefore, less effective.\nPositivism was bitterly hostile to Christianity, though, in the mind of\nComte himself and of a few others, it produced a curious substitute,\npossessing many of the marks of Roman Catholicism. The name 'agnostic'\nwas so loosely used that one must say that the contention was hostile to\nreligion in the minds of some and not of others. The new movement for an\ninclusive science is not hostile to religion. Yet it will transform\ncurrent conceptions of religion as those others never did. In proportion\nas it is scientific, it cannot be hostile. It may at most be\nindifferent. Nevertheless, in the long run, few will choose the theme of\nreligion for the scientific labour of life who have not some interest in\nreligion. Men of these three classes have accepted the doctrine of\nevolution. Comte thought he had discovered it. Spencer and those for\nwhom we have taken him as type, did service in the elaboration of it. To\nthe men of our third group, the truth of evolution seems no longer\ndebatable. Here too, in the word 'evolution,' we have a term which has\nbeen used with laxity. It corresponds to a notion which has only\ngradually been evolved. Its implications were at first by no means\nunderstood. It was associated with a mechanical view of the universe\nwhich was diametrically opposed to its truth. Still, there could not be\na doubt that the doctrine contravened those ideas as to the origin of\nthe world, and more particularly of man, of the relations of species,\nand especially of the human species to other forms of animal life, which\nhad immemorially prevailed in Christian circles and which had the\nwitness of the Scriptures on their behalf. If we were to attempt, with\nacknowledged latitude, to name a book whose import might be said to be\ncardinal for the whole movement treated of in this chapter, that book\nwould be Darwin's _Origin of Species_, which was published in 1859.\n\nLong before Darwin the creation legend had been recognised as such. The\nastronomy of the seventeenth century had removed the earth from its\ncentral position. The geology of the eighteenth had shown how long must\nhave been the ages of the laying down of the earth's strata. The\nquestion of the descent of man, however, brought home the significance\nof evolution for religion more forcibly than any other aspect of the\ndebate had done. There were scientific men of distinction who were not\nconvinced of the truth of the evolutionary hypothesis. To most Christian\nmen the theory seemed to leave no unique distinction or spiritual\nquality for man. It seemed to render impossible faith in the Scriptures\nas revelation. To many it seemed that the whole issue as between a\nspiritual and a purely materialistic view of the universe was involved.\nParticularly was this true of the English-speaking peoples.\n\nOne other factor in the transformation of the Christian view needs to be\ndwelt upon. It is less theoretical than those upon which we have dwelt.\nIt is the influence of socialism, taking that word in its largest sense.\nAn industrial civilisation has developed both the good and the evil of\nindividualism in incredible degree. The unity of society which the\nfeudal system and the Church gave to Europe in the Middle Age had been\ndestroyed. The individualism and democracy which were essential to\nProtestantism notoriously aided the civil and social revolution, but the\ncentrifugal forces were too great. Initiative has been wonderful, but\ncohesion is lacking. Democracy is yet far from being realised. The civil\nliberations which were the great crises of the western world from 1640\nto 1830 appear now to many as deprived of their fruit. Governments\nundertake on behalf of subjects that which formerly no government would\nhave dreamed of doing. The demand is that the Church, too, become a\nfactor in the furtherance of the outward and present welfare of mankind.\nIf that meant the call to love and charity it would be an old refrain.\nThat is exactly what it does not mean. It means the attack upon evils\nwhich make charity necessary. It means the taking up into the\nidealisation of religion the endeavour to redress all wrongs, to do away\nwith all evils, to confer all goods, to create a new world and not, as\nheretofore, mainly at least, a new soul in the midst of the old world.\nNo one can deny either the magnitude of the evils which it is sought to\nremedy, or the greatness of the goal which is thus set before religion.\nThe volume of religious and Christian literature devoted to these social\nquestions is immense. It is revolutionary in its effect. For, after all,\nthe very gist of religion has been held to be that it deals primarily\nwith the inner life and the transcendent world. That it has dealt with\nthe problem of the inner life and transcendent world in such a manner as\nto retard, or even only not to further, the other aspects of man's life\nis indeed a grave indictment. That it should, however, see ends in the\nouter life and present world as ends fully sufficient in themselves,\nthat it should cease to set these in the light of the eternal, is that\nit should cease to be religion. The physical and social sciences have\ngiven to men an outward setting in the world, a basis of power and\nhappiness such as men never have enjoyed. Yet the tragic failure of our\ncivilisation to give to vast multitudes that power and happiness, is the\nproof that something more than the outward basis is needed. The success\nof our civilisation is its failure.\n\nThis is by no means a recurrence to the old antithesis of religion and\ncivilisation, as if these were contradictory elements. On the contrary,\nit is but to show that the present world of religion and of economics\nare not two worlds, but merely different aspects of the same world.\nTherewith it is not alleged that religion has not a specific\ncontribution to make.\n\n\nPOSITIVISM\n\n\nThe permanent influence of that phase of thought which called itself\nPositivism has not been great. But a school of thought which numbered\namong its adherents such men and women as John Stuart Mill, George Henry\nLewes, George Eliot, Frederic Harrison, and Matthew Arnold, cannot be\nsaid to have been without significance. A book upon the translation of\nwhich Harriet Martinean worked with sustained enthusiasm cannot be\ndismissed as if it were merely a curiosity. Comte's work, _Coura de\nPhilosophie Positive_, appeared between the years 1830 and 1842. Littre\nwas his chief French interpreter. But the history of the positivist\nmovement belongs to the history of English philosophical and religious\nthought, rather than to that of France.\n\nComte was born at Montpellier in 1798, of a family of intense Roman\nCatholic piety. He showed at school a precocity which might bear\ncomparison with Mill's. Expelled from school, cast off by his parents,\ndismissed by the elder Casimir Perier, whose secretary he had been, he\neked out a living by tutoring in mathematics. Friends of his philosophy\nrallied to his support. He never occupied a post comparable with his\ngenius. He was unhappy in his marriage. He passed through a period of\nmental aberration, due, perhaps, to the strain under which he worked. He\ndid not regain his liberty without an experience which embittered him\nagainst the Church. During the fourteen years of the production of his\nbook he cut himself off from any reading save that of current scientific\ndiscovery. He came under the influence of Madame Vaux, whom, after her\ndeath, he idolised even more than before. For the problem which, in the\nearlier portion of his work, he set himself, that namely, of the\norganising of the sciences into a compact body of doctrine, he possessed\nextraordinary gifts. Later, he took on rather the air of a high priest\nof humanity, legislating concerning a new religion. It is but fair to\nsay that at this point Littre and many others parted company with Comte.\nHe developed a habit and practice ascetic in its rigour and mystic in\nits devotion to the positivists' religion--the worship of humanity. He\nwas the friend and counsellor of working-men and agitators, of little\nchildren, of the poor and miserable. He ended his rather pathetic and\nturbulent career in 1857, gathering a few disciples about his bed as he\nremembered that Socrates had done.\n\nComte begins with the natural sciences and postulates the doctrine of\nevolution. To the definition of this doctrine he makes some interesting\napproaches. The discussion of the order and arrangement of the various\nsciences and of their characteristic differences is wonderful in its\ninsight and suggestiveness. He asserts that in the study of nature we\nare concerned solely with the facts before us and the relations which\nconnect those facts. We have nothing to do with the supposed essence or\nhidden nature and meaning of those facts. Facts and the invariable laws\nwhich govern them are the only legitimate objects of pursuit. Comte\ninfers that because we can know, in this sense, only phenomena and their\nrelations, we should in consequence guard against illusions which creep\nin again if we so much as use the words principle, or cause, or will, or\nforce. By phenomena must be understood objects of perception, to the\nexclusion, for example, of psychological changes reputed to be known in\nself-consciousness. That there is no knowledge but of the physical, that\nthere is no knowing except by perception--this is ever reiterated as\nself-evident. Even psychology, resting as it does largely upon the\nobservation of the self by the self, must be illusive. Physiology, or\neven phrenology, with the value of which Comte was much impressed, must\ntake its place. Every object of knowledge is other than the knowing\nsubject. Whatever else the mind knows, it can never know itself. By\ninvincible necessity the human mind can observe all phenomena except its\nown. Commenting upon this, James Martineau observed: 'We have had in the\nhistory of thought numerous forms of idealism which construed all\noutward phenomena as mere appearances within the mind. We have hitherto\nhad no strictly corresponding materialism, which claimed certainty for\nthe outer world precisely because it was foreign to ourselves.' Man is\nthe highest product of nature, the highest stage of nature's most mature\nand complex form. Man as individual is nothing more. Physiology gives us\nnot merely his external constitution and one set of relations. It is the\nwhole science of man. There is no study of mind in which its actions and\nstates can be contemplated apart from the physical basis in conjunction\nwith which mind exists.\n\nThus far man has been treated only biologically, as individual. We must\nadvance to man in society. Almost one half of Comte's bulky work is\ndevoted to this side of the inquiry. Social phenomena are a class\ncomplex beyond any which have yet been investigated. So much is this the\ncase and so difficult is the problem presented, that Comte felt\nconstrained in some degree to change his method. We proceed from\nexperience, from data in fact, as before. But the facts are not mere\nillustrations of the so called laws of individual human nature. Social\nfacts are the results also of situations which represent the accumulated\ninfluence of past generations. In this, as against Bentham, for example,\nwith his endless recurrence to human nature, as he called it, Comte was\nright. Comte thus first gave the study of history its place in\nsociology. In this study of history and sociology, the collective\nphenomena are more accessible to us and better known by us, than are the\nparts of which they are composed. We therefore proceed here from the\ngeneral to the particular, not from the particular to the general, as in\nresearch of the kinds previously named. The state of every part of the\nsocial organisation is ultimately connected with the contemporaneous\nstate of all the other parts. Philosophy, science, the fine arts,\ncommerce, navigation, government, are all in close mutual dependence.\nWhen any considerable change takes place in one, we may know that a\nparallel change has preceded or will follow in the others. The progress\nof society is not the aggregate of partial changes, but the product of a\nsingle impulse acting through all the partial agencies. It can therefore\nbe most easily traced by studying all together. These are the main\nprinciples of sociological investigation as set forth by Comte, some of\nthem as they have been phrased by Mill.\n\nThe most sweeping exemplification of the axiom last alluded to, as to\nparallel changes, is Comte's so-called law of the three states of\ncivilisation. Under this law, he asserts, the whole historical evolution\ncan be summed up. It is as certain as the law of gravitation. Everything\nin human society has passed, as has the individual man, through the\ntheological and then through the metaphysical stage, and so arrives at\nthe positive stage. In this last stage of thought nothing either of\nsuperstition or of speculation will survive. Theology and metaphysics\nComte repeatedly characterises as the two successive stages of\nnescience, unavoidable as preludes to science. Equally unavoidable is it\nthat science shall ultimately prevail in their place. The advance of\nscience having once begun, there is no possibility but that it will\nultimately possess itself of all. One hears the echo of this confidence\nin Haeckel also. There is a persistence about the denial of any\nknowledge whatsoever that goes beyond external facts, which ill comports\nwith the pretensions of positivism to be a philosophy. For its final\nclaim is not that it is content to rest in experimental science. On the\ncontrary, it would transform this science into a homogeneous doctrine\nwhich is able to explain everything in the universe. This is but a _tour\nde force_. The promise is fulfilled through the denial of the reality of\neverything which science cannot explain. Comte was never willing to face\nthe fact that the very existence of knowledge has a noumenal as well as\na phenomenal side. The reasonableness of the universe is certainly a\nconception which we bring to the observation of nature. If we did not\nthus bring it with us, no mere observation of nature would ever give it\nto us. It is impossible for science to get rid of the conception of\nforce, and ultimately of cause. There can be no phenomenon which is not\na manifestation of something. The very nomenclature falls into hopeless\nconfusion without these conceptions. Yet the moment we touch them we\ntranscend science and pass into the realm of philosophy. It is mere\njuggling with words to say that our science has now become a philosophy.\n\nThe adjective 'positive' contains the same fallacy. Apparently Comte\nmeant by the choice of it to convey the sense that he would limit\nresearch to phenomena in their orders of resemblance, co-existence and\nsuccession. But to call the inquiry into phenomena positive, in the\nsense that it alone deals with reality, to imply that the inquiry into\ncauses deals with that which has no reality, is to beg the question.\nThis is not a premise with which he may set out in the evolution of his\nsystem.\n\nComte denied the accusation of materialism and atheism. He did the first\nonly by changing the meaning of the term materialism. Materialism the\nworld has supposed to be the view of man's condition and destiny which\nmakes these to begin and end in nature. That certainly was Comte's view.\nThe accusation of atheism also he avoids by a mere play on words. He is\nnot without a God. Humanity is God. Mankind is the positivist's Supreme.\nAltruism takes the place of devotion. The devotion so long wasted upon a\nmere creature of the imagination, to whom it could do no good, he would\nnow give to men who sorely need it and can obviously profit by it.\nSurely the antithesis between nature and the supernatural, in the form\nin which Comte argues against it, is now abandoned by thoughtful people.\nEqually the antithesis of altruism to the service of God is perverse. It\narouses one's pity that Comte should not have seen how, in true religion\nthese two things coalesce.\n\nMoreover, this deification of mankind, in so far as it is not a sounding\nphrase, is an absurdity. When Comte says, for example, that the\nauthority of humanity must take the place of that of God, he has\nrecognised that religion must have authority. Indeed, the whole social\norder must have authority. However, this is not for him, as we are\naccustomed to say, the authority of the truth and of the right. There is\nno such abstraction as the truth, coming to various manifestations.\nThere is no such thing as right, apart from relatively right concrete\nmeasures. There is no larger being indwelling in men. Society, humanity\nin its collective capacity, must, if need be, override the individual.\nYet Comte despises the mere rule of majorities. The majority which he\nwould have rule is that of those who have the scientific mind. We may\nadmit that in this he aims at the supremacy of truth. But, in fact, he\nprepares the way for a doctrinaire tyranny which, of all forms of\ngovernment, might easily turn out to be the worst which a long-suffering\nhumanity has yet endured.\n\nIn the end, we are told, love is to take the place of force. Humanity is\npresent to us first in our mothers, wives and daughters. For these it is\npresent in their fathers, husbands, sons. From this primary circle love\nwidens and worship extends as hearts enlarge. It is the prayer to\nhumanity which first rises above the mere selfishness of the sort to get\nsomething out of God. Remembrance in the hearts of those who loved us\nand owe something to us is the only worthy form of immortality. Clearly\nit is only the caricature of prayer or of the desire of immortality\nwhich rises before Comte's mind as the thing to be escaped. For this\ncaricature religious men, both Catholic and Protestant, without doubt,\ngave him cause. There were to be seven sacraments, corresponding to\nseven significant epochs in a man's career. There were to be priests for\nthe performance of these sacraments and for the inculcation of the\ndoctrines of positivism. There were to be temples of humanity, affording\nopportunity for and reminder of this worship. In each temple there was\nto be set up the symbol of the positivist religion, a woman of thirty\nyears with her little son in her arms. Littre spoke bitterly of the\npositivist religion as a lapse of the author into his old aberration.\nThis religion was certainly regarded as negligible by many to whom his\nsystem as a whole meant a great deal. At least, it is an interesting\nexample, as is also his transformation of science into a philosophy, of\nthe resurgence of valid elements in life, even in the case of a man who\nhas made it his boast to do away with them.\n\n\nNATURALISM AND AGNOSTICISM\n\n\nWe may take Spencer as representative of a group of men who, after the\nmiddle of the nineteenth century, laboured enthusiastically to set forth\nevolutionary and naturalistic theories of the universe. These theories\nhad also, for the most part, the common trait that they professed\nagnosticism as to all that lay beyond the reach of the\nnatural-scientific methods, in which the authors were adept. Both Ward\nand Boutroux accept Spencer as such a type. Agnosticism for obvious\nreasons could be no system. Naturalism is a tendency in interpretation\nof the universe which has many ramifications. There is no intention of\nmaking the reference to one man's work do more than serve as\nintroduction to the field.\n\nSpencer was eager in denial that he had been influenced by Comte. Yet\nthere is a certain reminder of Comte in Spencer's monumental endeavour\nto systematise the whole mass of modern scientific knowledge, under the\ngeneral title of 'A Synthetic Philosophy.' He would show the unity of\nthe sciences and their common principles or, rather, the one great\ncommon principle which they all illustrate, the doctrine of evolution,\nas this had taken shape since the time of Darwin. Since 1904 we have an\nautobiography of Herbert Spencer, which, to be sure, seems largely to\nhave been written prior to 1889. The book is interesting, as well in the\nlight which it throws upon the expansion of the sciences and the\ndevelopment of the doctrine of evolution in those years, as in the\nrevelation of the personal traits of the man himself. Concerning these\nTolstoi wrote to a friend, apropos of a gift of the book: 'In\nautobiographies the most important psychological phenomena are often\nrevealed quite independently of the author's will.'\n\nSpencer was born in 1820 in Derby, the son of a schoolmaster. He came of\nNonconformist ancestry of most marked individuality. His early education\nwas irregular and inadequate. Before he reached the age of seventeen his\nreading had been immense. He worked with an engineer in the period of\nthe building of the railways in the Midlands. He always retained his\ninterest in inventions. He wrote for the newspapers and magazines and\ndefinitely launched upon a literary career. At the age of thirty he\npublished his first book, on _Social Statics_. He made friends among the\nmost notable men and women of his age. So early as 1855 he was the\nvictim of a disease of the heart which never left him. It was on his\nrecovery from his first grave attack that he shaped the plan which\nhenceforth held him, of organising the modern sciences and incorporating\nthem into what he called a synthetic philosophy. There was immense\nincrease in actual knowledge and in the power of his reflection on that\nknowledge, as the years went by. A generation elapsed between the\npublication of his _First Principles_ and the conclusion of his more\nformal literary labours. There is something captivating about a man's\nlife, the energy of which remains so little impaired that he esteems it\nbetter to write a new book, covering some untouched portion of his\nscheme, than to give to an earlier volume the revision which in the\nlight of his matured convictions it may need. His philosophical\nlimitations he never transcended. He does not so naively offer a\nsubstitute for philosophy as does Comte. But he was no master in\nphilosophy. There is a reflexion of the consciousness of this fact in\nhis agnosticism.\n\nThat the effort of the agnostic contention has been great, and on the\nwhole salutary, few would deny. Spencer's own later work shows that his\ndeclaration, that the absolute which lies behind the universe is\nunknowable, is to be taken with considerable qualification. It is only a\nrelative unknowableness which he predicates. Moreover, before Spencer's\ndeath, the doctrine of evolution had made itself profoundly felt in the\ndiscussion of all aspects of life, including that of religion. There\nseemed no longer any reason for the barrier between science and religion\nwhich Spencer had once thought requisite.\n\nThe epithet agnostic, as applied to a certain attitude of scientific\nmind, is just, as over against excessive claims to valid knowledge made,\nnow by theology and now by speculative philosophy. It is hardly\ndescriptive in any absolute sense. Spencer had coined the rather\nfortunate illustration which describes science as a gradually increasing\nsphere, such that every addition to its surface does but bring us into\nmore extensive contact with surrounding nescience. Even upon this\nillustration Ward has commented that the metaphor is misleading. The\ncontinent of our knowledge is not merely bounded by an ocean of\nignorance. It is intersected and cut up by straits and seas of\nignorance. The author of _Ecce Coelum_ has declared: 'Things die out\nunder the microscope into the same unfathomed and, so far as we can see,\nunfathomable mystery, into which they die off beyond the range of our\nmost powerful telescope.' This sense of the circumambient unknown has\nbecome cardinal with the best spirits of the age. Men have a more\nrigorous sense of what constitutes knowledge.\n\nThey have reckoned more strictly with the methods by which alone secure\nand solid knowledge may be attained. They have undisguised scepticism as\nto alleged knowledge not arrived at in those ways. It was the working of\nthese motives which gave to the labours of the middle of the nineteenth\ncentury so prevailingly the aspect of denial, the character which\nCarlyle described as an everlasting No. This was but a preparatory\nstage, a retrogression for a new and firmer advance.\n\nIn the sense of the recognition of our ignorance and of a becoming\nmodesty of affirmation, over against the mystery into which all our\nthought runs out, we cannot reject the correction which agnosticism has\nadministered. It is a fact which has had disastrous consequences, that\nprecisely the department of thought, namely the religious, which one\nmight suppose would most have reminded men of the outlying mystery, that\nphase of life whose very atmosphere is mystery, has most often been\nguilty of arrant dogmatism. It has been thus guilty upon the basis of\nthe claim that it possessed a revelation. It has allowed itself\nunlimited licence of affirmation concerning the most remote and\ndifficult matters. It has alleged miraculously communicated information\nconcerning those matters. It has clothed with a divine\nauthoritativeness, overriding the mature reflexion and laborious\ninvestigation of learned men, that which was, after all, nothing but the\ninnocent imaginings of the childhood of the race. In this good sense of\na parallel to that agnosticism which scientists profess for themselves\nwithin their own appointed realm, there is a religious agnosticism which\nis one of the best fruits of the labour of the age. It is not that\nreligious men have abandoned the thought of revelation. They apprehended\nmore justly the nature of revelation. They confess that there is much\nignorance which revelation does not mitigate. _Exeunt omnia in\nmysterium_. They are prepared to say concerning many of the dicta of\nreligiosity, that they cannot affirm their truth. They are prepared to\nsay concerning the experience of God and the soul, that they know these\nwith an indefeasible certitude. This just and wholesome attitude toward\nreligious truth is only a corollary of the attitude which science has\ntaught us toward all truth whatsoever.\n\nThe strictly philosophic term phenomenon, to which science has taken so\nkindly, is in itself an explicit avowal of something beyond the\nphenomenal. Spencer is careful to insist upon this relation of the\nphenomenal to the noumenal. His _Synthetic Philosophy_ opens with an\nexposition of this non-relative or absolute, without which the relative\nitself becomes contradictory. It is an essential part of Spencer's\ndoctrine to maintain that our consciousness of the absolute, indefinite\nas it is, is positive and not negative. 'Though the absolute cannot in\nany manner or degree be known, in the strict sense of knowing, yet we\nfind that its positive existence is a necessary datum of consciousness.\nThe belief which this datum of consciousness constitutes has a higher\nwarrant than any other belief whatsoever.' In short, the absolute or\nnoumenal, according to Spencer, though not known as the phenomenal or\nrelative is known, is so far from being for knowledge a pure blank, that\nthe phenomenal, which is said to be known, is in the strict sense\ninconceivable without it. This actuality behind appearances, without\nwhich appearances are unthinkable, is by Spencer identified with that\nultimate verity upon which religion ever insists. Religion itself is a\nphenomenon, and the source and secret of most complex and interesting\nphenomena. It has always been of the greatest importance in the history\nof mankind. It has been able to hold its own in face of the attacks of\nscience. It must contain an element of truth. All religions, however,\nassert that their God is for us not altogether cognisable, that God is a\ngreat mystery. The higher their rank, the more do they acknowledge this.\nIt is by the flippant invasion of this mystery that the popular\nreligiosity offends. It talks of God as if he were a man in the next\nstreet. It does not distinguish between merely imaginative fetches into\nthe truth, and presumably accurate definition of that truth. Equally,\nthe attempts which are logically possible at metaphysical solutions of\nthe problem, namely, theism, pantheism, and atheism, if they are\nconsistently carried out, assert, each of them, more than we know and\nare involved in contradiction with themselves. But the results of modern\nphysics and chemistry reveal, as the constant element in all phenomena,\nforce. This manifests itself in various forms which are interchangeable,\nwhile amid all these changes the force remains the same. This latter\nmust be regarded as the reality, and basis of all that is relative and\nphenomenal. The entire universe is to be explained from the movements of\nthis absolute force. The phenomena of nature and of mental life come\nunder the same general laws of matter, motion, and force.\n\nSpencer's doctrine, as here stated, is not adequate to account for the\nworld of mental life or adapted to serve as the basis of a\nreconciliation of science and religion. It does not carry us beyond\nmaterialism. Spencer's real intention was directed to something higher\nthan that. If the absolute is to be conceived at all, it is as a\nnecessary correlative of our self-consciousness. If we get the idea of\nforce from the experience of our own power of volition, is it not\nnatural to think of mind-force as the prius of physical force, and not\nthe reverse? Accordingly, the absolute force, basis of all specific\nforces, would be mind and will. The doctrine of evolution would\nharmonise perfectly with these inferences. But it would have to become\nidealistic evolution, as in Schelling, instead of materialistic, as in\nComte. We are obliged, Spencer owns, to refer the phenomenal world of\nlaw and order to a first cause. He says that this first cause is\nincomprehensible. Yet he further says, when the question of attributing\npersonality to this first cause is raised, that the choice is not\nbetween personality and something lower. It is between personality and\nsomething higher. To this may belong a mode of being as much\ntranscending intelligence and will as these transcend mechanical motion.\nIt is strange, he says, that men should suppose the highest worship to\nlie in assimilating the object of worship to themselves. And yet, again,\nin one of the latest of his works he writes: 'Unexpected as it will be\nto most of my readers, I must assert that the power which manifests\nitself in consciousness is but a differently conditioned form of the\npower which manifests itself beyond consciousness. The conception to\nwhich the exploration of nature everywhere tends is much less that of a\nuniverse of dead matter than that of a universe everywhere alive.'\n\nSimilar is the issue in the reflexion of Huxley. Agnosticism had at\nfirst been asserted in relation to the spiritual and the teleological.\nIt ended in fastening upon the material and mechanical. After all, says\nHuxley, in one of his essays:--'What do we know of this terrible matter,\nexcept as a name for an unknown and hypothetical cause of states of our\nown consciousness? Again, what do we know of that spirit over whose\nthreatened extinction by matter so great lamentation has now arisen,\nexcept that it is also a name for an unknown and hypothetical cause of\nstates of our consciousness?' He concedes that matter is inconceivable\napart from mind, but that mind is not inconceivable apart from matter.\nHe concedes that the conception of universal and necessary law is an\nideal. It is an invention of the mind's own devising. It is not a\nphysical fact. In brief, taking agnostic naturalism just as it seemed\ndisposed a generation ago to present itself, it now appears as if it had\nbeen turned exactly inside out. Instead of the physical world being\nprimary and fundamental and the mental world secondary, if not\naltogether problematical, the precise converse is true.\n\nNature, as science regards it, may be described as a system whose parts,\nbe they simple or complex, are wholly governed by universal laws.\nKnowledge of these laws is an indispensable condition of that control of\nnature upon which human welfare in so large degree depends. But this\nreign of law is an hypothesis. It is not an axiom which it would be\nabsurd to deny. It is not an obvious fact, thrust upon us whether we\nwill or no. Experiences are possible without the conception of law and\norder. The fruit of experience in knowledge is not possible without it.\nThat is only to say that the reason why we assume that nature is a\nconnected system of uniform laws, lies in the fact that we ourselves are\nself-conscious personalities. When the naturalists say that the notion\nof cause is a fetish, an anthropomorphic superstition which we must\neliminate, we have to answer: 'from the realm of empirical science\nperhaps, but not from experience as a whole.' Indeed, a glance at the\nhistory, and particularly at the popular literature, of science affords\nthe interesting spectacle of the rise of an hallucination, the growth of\na habit of mythological speech, which is truly surprising. We begin to\nhear of self-existent laws which reign supreme and bind nature fast in\nfact. By this learned substitution for God, it was once confidently\nassumed that the race was to emerge from mythical dawn and metaphysical\nshadows into the noon-day of positive knowledge. Rather, it would appear\nthat at this point a part of the human race plunged into a new era of\nmyth-making and fetish worship--the homage to the fetish of law. Even\nthe great minds do not altogether escape. 'Fact I know and law I know,'\nsays Huxley, with a faint suggestion of sacred rhetoric. But surely we\ndo not know law in the same sense in which we know fact. If there are no\ncauses among our facts, then we do not know anything about the laws. If\nwe do know laws it is because we assume causes. If, in the language of\nrational beings, laws of nature are to be spoken of as self-existent and\nindependent of the phenomena which they are said to govern, such\nlanguage must be merely analogous to the manner in which we often speak\nof the civil law. We say the law does that which we know the executive\ndoes. But the thorough-going naturalist cast off these implications as\nthe last rags of a creed outworn. Physicists were fond of talking of the\nmovement of molecules, just as the ancient astrologers imagined that the\nplanets had souls and guided their own courses. We had supposed that\nthis was anthropomorphism. In truth, this would-be scientific mode of\nspeech is as anthropomorphic as is the cosmogony of Hesiod, only on a\nsmaller scale. Primitive religion ascribed life to everything of which\nit talked. Polytheism in religion and independent forces and\nself-existent laws in science are thus upon a par. The gods many and\nlords many, so amenable to concrete presentation in poetry and art, have\ngiven place to one Supreme Being. So also light, heat, and other natural\nagencies, palpable and ready to hand for the explanation of everything,\nin the myth-making period of science which living men can still\nremember, have by this time paled. They have become simply various\nmanifestations of one underlying spiritual energy, which is indeed\nbeyond our perception.[6] When Comte said that the universe could not\nrest upon will, because then it would be arbitrary, incalculable,\nsubject to caprice, one feels the humour and pathos of it. Comte's\nexperience with will, his own and that of others, had evidently been too\nlargely of that sad sort. Real freedom consists in conformity to what\nought to be. In God, whom we conceive as perfect, this conformity is\ncomplete. With us it remains an ideal. Were we the creatures of a blind\nmechanical necessity there could be no talk of ideal standards and no\nmeaning in reason at all.\n\n[Footnote 6: Ward, _Naturalism and Agnosticism_, vol. ii. p. 248.]\n\n\nEVOLUTION\n\n\nIn the progress of the thought of the generation, say, from 1870 to the\npresent day, the conception of evolution has been much changed. The\ndoctrine of evolution has itself been largely evolved within that\nperiod. The application of it has become familiar in fields of which\nthere was at first no thought. The bearing of the acceptance of it upon\nreligion has been seen to be quite different from that which was at\nfirst supposed. The advocacy of the doctrine was at first associated\nwith the claims of naturalism or positivism. Wider applications of the\ndoctrine and deeper insight into its meaning have done away with this\nmisunderstanding. Evolution, as originally understood, was as far as\npossible from suggesting anything mechanical. By the term was meant\nprimarily the gradual unfolding of a living germ from its embryonic\nbeginning to its mature and final stage. This adult form was regarded\nnot merely as the goal actually reached through successive stages of\ngrowth. It was conceived as the end aimed at, and achieved through the\nforce of some vital or ideal principle shaping the plastic material and\ndirecting the process of growth. In short, evolution implied ideal ends\ncontrolling physical means. Yet we find with Spencer, as prevailingly\nalso with others in the study of the natural sciences, the ideas of end\nand of cause looked at askance. They are regarded an outside the pale of\nthe natural sciences. In a very definite sense that is true. The logical\nconsequence of this admission should be merely the recognition that the\nidea of evolution as developed in the natural sciences cannot be the\nwhole idea.\n\nThe entire history of anything, Spencer tells us, must include its\nappearance out of the imperceptible, and its disappearance again into\nthe imperceptible. Be it a single object, or the whole universe, an\naccount which begins with it in a concrete form, or leaves off with its\nconcrete form, is incomplete. He uses a familiar instance, that of a\ncloud appearing when vapour drifts over a cold mountain top, and again\ndisappearing when it emerges into warmer air. The cloud emerges from the\nimperceptible as heat is dissipated. It is dissolved again as heat is\nabsorbed and the watery particles evaporate. Spencer esteems this an\nanalogue of the appearance of the universe itself, according to the\nnebular hypothesis. Yet assuredly, as the cloud presupposes vapours\nwhich had previously condensed, and the vapour clouds that had\npreviously evaporated, and as clouds dissolve in one place even at the\nmoment that they are forming in another, so we are told of nebulae which\nare in every phase of advance or of decline. To ask which was first,\nsolid masses or nebulous haze, is much like recurring to the riddle of\nthe hen and the egg. Still, we are told, we have but to extend our\nthought beyond this emergence and subsidence of sidereal systems, of\ncontinents, nations, men, to find a permanent totality made up of\ntransient individuals in every stage of change. The physical assumption\nwith which Spencer sets out is that the mass of the universe and its\nenergy are fixed in quantity. All the phenomena of evolution are\nincluded in the conservation of this matter and force.\n\nBesides the criticism which was offered above, that the mere law of the\npersistence of force does not initiate our series, there is a further\nobjection. Even within the series, once it has been started, this law of\nthe persistence of force is solely a quantitative law. When energy is\ntransformed there is an equivalence between the new form and the old. Of\nthe reasons for the direction evolution takes, for the permanence of\nthat direction once it has been taken, so that the sequence of forms is\na progression, the explication of a latent nature--of all this, the mere\nlaw of the persistence of force gives us no explanation whatever. The\nchange at random from one form of manifestation to another might be a\nstriking illustration of the law of the persistence of force, but it\nwould be the contradiction of evolution. The very notion of evolution is\nthat of the sequence of forms, so that something is expressed or\nachieved. That achievement implies more than the mere force. Or rather,\nit involves a quality of the force with which the language of mechanism\ndoes not reckon. It assumes the idea which gives direction to the force,\nan ideal quality of the force.\n\nUnquestionably that which men sought to be rid of was the idea of\npurpose in nature, in the old sense of design in the mind of God,\nexternal to the material universe, of force exerted upon nature from\nwithout, so as to cause nature to conform to the design of its 'Great\nOriginal,' in Addison's high phrase. In this effort, however, the\nreducing of all to mere force and permutation of force, not merely\nexplains nothing, but contradicts facts which stare us in the face. It\ndeprives evolution of the quality which makes it evolution. To put in\nthis incongruous quality at the beginning, because we find it necessary\nat the end, is, to say the least, naive. To deny that we have put it in,\nto insist that in the marvellous sequence we have only an illustration\nof mechanism and of conservation of force, is perverse. We passed\nthrough an era in which some said that they did not believe in God;\neverything was accounted for by evolution. In so far as they meant that\nthey did not believe in the God of deism and of much traditional\ntheology, they did not stand alone in this claim. In so far as they\nmeant by evolution mere mechanism, they explained nothing and destroyed\nthe notion of evolution besides. In so far as they meant more than mere\nmechanism, they lapsed into the company of the scientific myth-makers to\nwhom we alluded above. They attributed to their abstraction, evolution,\nqualities which other people found in the forms of the universe viewed\nas the manifestation of an immanent God. Only by so doing were they able\nto ascribe to evolution that which other people describe as the work of\nGod. At this level the controversy becomes one simply about words.\n\nOf course, the great illumination as to the meaning of evolution has\ncome with its application to many fields besides the physical. Darwin\nwas certainly the great inaugurator of the evolutionary movement in\nEngland. Still, Darwin's problem was strictly limited. The impression is\nwidespread that the biological evolutionary theories were first\ndeveloped, and furnished the basis for the others. Yet both Hegel and\nComte, not to speak of Schelling, were far more interested in the\nintellectual and historical, the ethical and social aspects of the\nquestion. Both Hegel and Comte were, whether rightly or wrongly, rather\ncontemptuous of the appeal to biology and organic life. Both had the\nsense that they used a great figure of speech when they spoke of society\nas an organism, and compared the working of institutions to biological\nfunctions. This is indeed the question. It is a question over which\nSpencer sets himself lightly. He passes back and forth between organic\nevolution and the ethical, economic, and social movements which are\ndescribed by the same term, as if we were in possession of a perfectly\nsafe analogy, or rather as if we were assured of an identical principle.\nMuch that is already archaic in Spencer's economic and social, his\nhistorical and ethical, not to say his religious, chapters is due to the\ninfluence of this fact. Of his own mind it was true that he had come to\nthe doctrine of evolution from the physical side. He brought to his\nother subjects a more or less developed method of operating with the\nconception. He never fully realised how new subjects would alter the\nmethod and transform the conception. Spencerian evolution is an\nassertion of the all-sufficiency of natural law. The authority of\nconscience is but the experience of law-abiding and dutiful generations\nflowing in our veins. The public weal has hold over us, because the\nhappiness and misery of past ages are inherited by us.\n\nIt marked a great departure when Huxley began vigorously to dissent from\nthese views. According to him evolutionary science has done nothing for\nethics. Men become ethical only as they set themselves against the\nprinciples embodied in the evolutionary process of the world. Evolution\nis the struggle for existence. It is preposterous to say that man became\ngood by succeeding in the struggle for existence. Instead of the old\nsingle movement, as in Spencer, straight from the nebula to the saint,\nHuxley has place for suffering. Suffering is most intense in man\nprecisely under conditions most essential to the evolution of his nobler\npowers. The loss of ease or money may be gain in character. The cosmical\nprocess is not only full of pain. It is full of mercilessness and of\nwickedness. Good has been evolved, but so has evil. The fittest may have\nsurvived. There is no guarantee that they are the best. The continual\nstruggle against our fellows poisons our higher life. It will hardly do\nto say with Huxley that the ethical struggle is the reverse of the\ncosmical process. Nevertheless, we have here a most interesting\ntransformation in thought.\n\nThese ideas and principles, as is well known, were elaborated and\nadvanced upon in a very popular book, Drummond's _Ascent of Man_, 1894.\nEven the title was a happy and suggestive one. Struggle for life is a\nfact, but it is not the whole fact. It is balanced by the struggle for\nthe life of others. This latter reaches far down into the levels of what\nwe call brute life. Its divinest reach is only the fulfilment of the\nreal nature of humanity. It is the living with men which develops the\nmoral in man. The prolongation of infancy in the higher species has had\nto do with the development of moral nature. So only that we hold a\nsufficiently deep view of reason, provided we see clearly that reason\ntransforms, perfects, makes new what we inherit from the beast, we need\nnot fear for morality, though it should universally be taught that\nmorality came into being by the slow and gradual fashioning of brute\nimpulse.\n\nBenjamin Kidd in his _Social Evolution_, 1895, has reverted again to\nextreme Darwinism in morals and sociology. The law is that of unceasing\nstruggle. Reason does not teach us to moderate the struggle. It but\nsharpens the conflict. All religions are praeter-rational, Christianity\nmost of all, in being the most altruistic. Kidd, not without reason,\ncomments bitterly upon Spencer's Utopia, the passage of militarism into\nindustrialism. The struggle in industrialism is fiercer than ever.\nReason affects the animal nature of man for the worse. Clearly conscious\nof what he is doing, man objects to sacrificing himself for his family\nor tribe. Instinct might lead an ape to do that. Intelligence warns a\nman against it. Reason is cruel beyond anything dreamed of in the beast.\nThat portion of the community which loves to hear the abuse of reason,\nrejoiced to hear this phrase. They rejoiced when they heard that\nreligion was the only remedy, and that religion was ultra-rational,\ncontra-rational, supernatural, in this new sense. How one comes by it,\nor how one can rationally justify the yielding of allegiance to it, is\nnot clear. One must indeed have the will to believe if one believes on\nthese terms.\n\nThese again are but examples. They convey but a superficial impression\nof the effort to apply the conception of evolution to the moral and\nreligious life of man. All this has taken place, of course, in a far\nlarger setting that of the endeavour to elaborate the evolutionary view\nof politics and of the state, of economics and of trade, of social life\nand institutions, of culture and civilisation in every aspect. This\nelaboration and reiteration of the doctrine of evolution sometimes\nwearies us. It is but the unwearied following of the main clue to the\nriddle of the universe which the age has given us. It is nothing more\nand nothing less than the endeavour to apprehend the ideal life, no\nlonger as something held out to us, set up before us, but also as\nsomething working within us, realising itself through us and among us.\nTo deny the affinity of this with religion would be fatuous and also\nfutile. Temporarily, at least, and to many interests of religion, it\nwould be fatal.\n\n\nMIRACLES\n\n\nIt must be evident that the total view of the universe which the\nacceptance of the doctrine of evolution implies, has had effect in the\ndiminution of the acuteness of the question concerning miracles. It\ncertainly gives to that question a new form. A philosophy which asserts\nthe constant presence of God in nature and the whole life of the world,\na criticism which has given us a truer notion of the documents which\nrecord the biblical miracles, the reverent sense of ignorance which our\nincreasing knowledge affords, have tended to diminish the dogmatism of\nmen on either side of the debate. The contention on behalf of the\nmiracle, in the traditional sense of the word, once seemed the bulwark\nof positive religion, the distinction between the man who was satisfied\nwith a naturalistic explanation of the universe and one whose devout\nsoul asked for something more. On the other hand, the contention against\nthe miracle appeared to be a necessary corollary of the notion of a law\nand order which are inviolable throughout the universe. Furthermore,\nmany men have come of themselves to the conclusion for which\nSchleiermacher long ago contended. Whatever may be theoretically\ndetermined concerning miracles, yet the miracle can never again be\nregarded as among the foundations of faith. This is for the simplest of\nreasons. The belief in a miracle presupposes faith. It is the faith\nwhich sustains the miracle, and not the miracle the faith. Jesus is to\nmen the incomparable moral and spiritual magnitude which he is, not on\nthe evidence of some unparalleled things physical which it is alleged he\ndid. Quite the contrary, it is the immediate impression of the moral and\nspiritual wonder which Jesus is, that prepares what credence we can\ngather for the wonders which it is declared he did. This is a transfer\nof emphasis, a redistribution of weight in the structure of our thought,\nthe relief of which many appreciate who have not reasoned the matter\nthrough for themselves.\n\nSchleiermacher had said, and Herrmann and others repeat the thought,\nthat, as the Christian faith finds in Christ the highest revelation,\nmiracles may reasonably be expected of him. Nevertheless, he adds, these\ndeeds can be called miracles or esteemed extraordinary, only as\ncontaining something which was beyond contemporary knowledge of the\nregular and orderly connexion between physical and spiritual life.\nTherewith, it must be evident, that the notion of the miraculous is\nfundamentally changed. So it comes to pass that we have a book like\nMackintosh's _Natural History of the Christian Religion_, 1894, whose\navowed purpose is to do away with the miraculous altogether. Of course,\nthe author means the traditional notion of the miraculous, according to\nwhich it is the essence of arbitrariness and the negation of law. It is\nnot that he has less sense for the divine life of the world, or for the\nquality of Christianity as revelation. On the other hand, we have a book\nlike Percy Gardner's _Exploratio Evangelica_, 1899. With the most\nsearching criticism of the narratives of some miracles, there is\nreverent confession, on the author's part, that he is baffled by the\nreports of others. There is recognition of unknown possibilities in the\ncase of a character like that of Jesus. It is not that Gardner has a\nless stringent sense of fact and of the inexorableness of law than has\nMackintosh or an ardent physicist. The problem is reduced to that of the\nchoice of expression. We are not able to withhold a justification of the\nscholar who declares: We must not say that we believe in the miraculous.\nThis language is sure to be appropriated by those who still take their\ndeparture from the old dualism, now hopelessly obsolete, for which a\nbreach of the law of nature was the crowning evidence of the love of\nGod. On the other hand, the assertion that we do not believe in the\nmiraculous will easily be taken by some to mean the denial of the whole\nsense of the nearness and power and love of God, and of the unimagined\npossibilities of such a moral nature as was that of Christ. It is to be\nrepeated that we have here a mere difference as to terms. The debate is\nno longer about ideas.\n\nThe traditional notion of the miracle arose out of the confusion of two\nseries of ideas which, in the last analysis, have nothing to do with\neach other. On the one hand, there is the conception of law and order,\nof cause and effect, of the unbroken connexion of nature. On the other\nhand is the thought of the divine purpose in the life of the world and\nof the individual. By the aid of that first sequence of thoughts we find\nourselves in the universe and interpret the world of fact to ourselves.\nYet in the other sequence lies the essence of religion. The two\nsequences may perfectly well coexist in the same mind. Out of the\nattempt to combine them nothing clear or satisfying can issue. If one\nshould be, to-day, brought face to face with a fact which was alleged to\nbe a miracle, his instinctive effort would be, nevertheless, to seek to\nfind its cause, to establish for it a connexion in the natural order. In\nthe ancient world men did not argue thus, nor in the modern world until\nless than two hundred years ago. The presumption of the order of nature\nhad not assumed for them the proportions which it has for us. For us it\nis overwhelming, self-evident. Therewith is not involved that we lack\nbelief in a divine purpose for the world and for the individual life.\n\nWe do not deny that there are laws of nature of which we have no\nexperience, facts which we do not understand, events which, if they\nshould occur, would stand before us as unique. Still, the decisive thing\nis, that in face of such an event, instead of viewing it quite simply as\na divine intervention, as men used to do, we, with equal simplicity and\nno less devoutness, conceive that same event as only an illustration of\na connexion in nature which we do not understand. There is no inherent\nreason why we may not understand it. When we do understand it, there\nwill be nothing more about it that is conceivably miraculous. There will\nbe then no longer a unique quality attaching to the event. Therewith\nends the possible significance of such an event as proof of divine\nintervention for our especial help. We have but a connexion in nature\nsuch that, whether understood or not, if it were to recur, the event\nwould recur.\n\nThe miracles which are related in the Scripture may be divided for our\nconsideration into three classes. To the first class belong most of\nthose which are related in the Old Testament, but some also which are\nconspicuous in the New Testament. They are, in some cases, the poetical\nand imaginative representation of the profoundest religious ideas. So\nsoon as one openly concedes this, when there is no longer any necessity\neither to attack or to defend the miracle in question, one is in a\nposition to acknowledge how deep and wonderful the thoughts often are\nand how beautiful the form in which they are conveyed. It is through\nimagination and symbolism that we are able to convey the subtlest\nmeanings which we have. Still more was this the case with men of an\nearlier age. In the second place, the narratives of miracles are, some\nof them, of such a sort that we may say that an event or circumstance in\nnature has been obviously apprehended in naive fashion. This by no means\nforbids us to interpret that same event in quite a different way. The\nmen of former time, exactly in proportion as they had less sense of the\norder of nature than have we, so were they also far readier to assume\nthe immediate forthputting of the power of God. This was true not merely\nof the uneducated. It is difficult, or even impossible, for us to find\nout what the event was. Fact and apprehension are inextricably\ninterwoven. That which really happened is concealed from us by the tale\nwhich had intended to reveal it. In the third place, there are many\ncases in the history of Jesus, and some in that of the apostles and\nprophets, in which that which is related moves in the borderland between\nbody and soul, spirit and matter, the region of the influence of will,\none's own or that of another, over physical conditions. Concerning such\ncases we are disposed, far more than were men even a few years ago, to\nconcede that there is much that is by no means yet investigated, and the\nsoundest judgment we can form is far from being sure. Even if we\nrecognise to the full the lamentable resurgence of outworn superstitions\nand stupidities, which again pass current among us for an unhappy\nmoment, if we detect the questionable or manifestly evil consequences of\ncertain uses made or alleged of psychic influence, yet still we are not\nalways in a position to say, with certainty, what is true in tales of\nhealing which we hear in our own day. There are certain of the\nstatements concerning Jesus' healing power and action which are\nabsolutely baffling. They can be eliminated from the narrative only by a\nprocedure which might just as well eliminate the narrative. In many of\nthe narratives there may be much that is true. In some all may be as\nrelated. In Jesus' time, on the witness of the Scripture itself, it was\nassumed as something no one questioned, that miraculous deeds were\nperformed, not alone by Jesus and the apostles, but by many others, and\nnot always even by the good. Such deeds were performed through the power\nof evil spirits as well as by the power of God. To imagine that the\nworking of miracles proved that Jesus came from God, is the most patent\nimportation of a modern apologetic notion into the area of ancient\nthought. We must remember that Jesus himself laid no great weight upon\nthe miracles which we assume that he believed he wrought, and some of\nwhich we may believe that he did work. Many he performed with hesitation\nand desired so far as possible to conceal.\n\nEven if we were in a position at one point or another in the life of\nJesus to defend the traditional assumptions concerning the miraculous,\nyet it must be evident how opposed it is to right reason, to lay stress\non the abstract necessity of belief in the miraculous. The traditional\nconception of the miraculous is done away for us. This is not at all by\nthe fact that we are in a position to say with Matthew Arnold: 'The\ntrouble with miracles is that they never happen.' We do not know enough\nto say that. To stake all on the assertion of the impossibility of\nso-called miracles is as foolish as to stake much on the affirmation of\ntheir actuality. The connexion of nature is only an induction. This can\nnever be complete. The real question is both more complex and also more\nsimple. The question is whether, even if an event, the most unparalleled\nof those related in the Gospels or outside of them, should be proved\nbefore our very eyes to have taken place, the question is whether we\nshould believe it to have been a miracle in the traditional sense, an\nevent in which the actual--not the known, but the possible--order of\nnature had been broken through, and in the old sense, God had\narbitrarily supervened.\n\nAllowed that the event were, in our own experience and in the known\nexperience of the race, unparalleled, yet it would never occur to us to\nsuppose but that there was a law of this case, also, a connexion in\nnature in which, as work of God, it occurred, and in which, if the\nconditions were repeated, it would recur. We should unceasingly\nendeavour through observation, reflexion, and new knowledge, to show how\nwe might subordinate this event in the connexion of nature which we\nassume. We should feel that we knew more, and not less, of God, if we\nshould succeed. And if our effort should prove altogether futile, we\nshould be no less sure that such natural connexion exists. This is\nbecause nature is for us the revelation of the divine. The divine, we\nassume, has a natural order of working. Its inviolability is the\ndivinest thing about it. It is through this sequence of ideas that we\nare in a position to deny, not facts which may be inexplicable, but the\ntraditional conception of the miracle. For surely no one needs to be\ntold that this is not the conception of the miracle which has existed in\nthe minds of the devout, and equally of the undevout, from the beginning\nof thought until the present day.\n\nHowever, there is nothing in all of this which hinders us from believing\nwith a full heart in the love and grace and care of God, in his holy and\nredeeming purpose for mankind and for the individual. It is true that\nthis belief cannot any longer retain its naive and childish form. It is\ntrue that it demands of a man far more of moral force, of ethical and\nspiritual mastery, of insight and firm will, to sustain the belief in\nthe purpose of God for himself and for all men, when a man believes that\nhe sees and feels God only in and through nature and history, through\npersonal consciousness and the personal consciousness of Jesus. It is\ntrue that it has, apparently, been easier for men to think of God as\noutside and above his world, and of themselves as separated from their\nfellows by his special providence. It is more difficult, through glad\nand intelligent subjection to all laws of nature and of history, to\nachieve the education of one's spirit, to make good one's inner\ndeliverance from the world, to aid others in the same struggle and to\nset them on their way to God. Men grow uncertain within themselves,\nbecause they say that traditional religion has apprehended the matter in\na different way. This is true. It is also misleading. Whatever miracles\nJesus may have performed, no one can say that he performed them to make\nlife easier for himself, to escape the common lot, to avoid struggle, to\nevade suffering and disgraceful death. On the contrary, in genuine human\nself-distrust, but also in genuine heroism, he gave himself to his\nvocation, accepting all that went therewith, and finished the work of\nGod which he had made his own. This is the more wonderful because it lay\nso much nearer to him than it can lie to us, to pray for special\nevidence of the love of God and to set his faith on the receiving of it.\nHe had not the conception of the relation of God to nature and history\nwhich we have.\n\nWe may well view the modern tendency to belief in healings through\nprayer, suggestion and faith, as an intelligible, an interesting, and in\npart, a touching manifestation. Of course there is mingled with it much\ndense ignorance, some superstition and even deception. Yet behind such a\nphenomenon there is meaning. Men of this mind make earnest with the\nthought that God cares for them. Without that thought there is no\nreligion. They have been taught to find the evidence of God's love and\ncare in the unusual. They are quite logical. It has been a weak point of\nthe traditional belief that men have said that in the time of Christ\nthere were miracles, but since that time, no more. Why not, if we can\nonly in spirit come near to Christ and God? They are quite logical also\nin that they have repudiated modern science. To be sure, no\ninconsiderable part of them use the word science continually.\n\nBut the very esoteric quality of their science is that it means\nsomething which no one else ever understood that it meant. In reality\ntheir breach with science is more radical than their breach with\nChristianity. They feel the contradiction in which most men are bound\nfast, who will let science have its way, up to a certain point, but who\nbeyond that, would retain the miracle. Dimly the former appreciate that\nthis position is impossible. They leave it to other men to become\naltogether scientific if they wish. For themselves they prefer to remain\nreligious. What a revival of ancient superstitions they have brought to\npass, is obvious. Still we shall never get beyond such adventurous and\npreposterous endeavours to rescue that which is inestimably precious in\nreligion, until the false antithesis between reason and faith, the lying\ncontradiction between the providence of God and the order of nature, is\novercome. Some science mankind apparently must have. Altogether without\nreligion the majority, it would seem, will never be. How these are\nrelated, the one to the other, not every one sees. Many attempt their\nadmixture in unhappy ways. They might try letting them stand in peace as\ncomplement and supplement the one to the other. Still better, they may\nperhaps some day see how each penetrates, permeates and glorifies the\nother.\n\n\nTHE SOCIAL SCIENCES\n\n\nWe said that the last generation had been characterised by an unexampled\nconcentration of intellectual interest upon problems presented by the\nsocial sciences. With this has gone an unrivalled earnestness in the\ninterpretation of religion as a social force. The great religious\nenthusiasm has been that of the application of Christianity to the\nsocial aspects of life. This effort has furnished most of the watchwords\nof religious teaching. It has laid vigorous, not to say violent, hands\non religious institutions. It has given a new perspective to effort and\na new impulse to devotion. The revival of religion in our age has taken\nthis direction, with an exclusiveness which has had both good and evil\nconsequences. Yet, before all, it should be made clear that it\nconstitutes a religious revival. Some are deploring the prostrate\ncondition of spiritual interests. If one judged only by conventional\nstandards, they have much evidence upon their side. Some are seeking to\ngalvanise religious life by recurrence to evangelistic methods\nsuccessfully operative half a century ago. The outstanding fact is that\nthe age shows immense religious vitality, so soon as one concedes that\nit must be allowed to show its vitality in its own way. It is the age of\nthe social question. One must be ignorant indeed of the activity of the\nchurches and of the productivity of religious thinkers, if he does not\nown that in Christian circles also no questions are so rife as these.\nWhether the panaceas have been all wise or profitable may be questioned.\nWhether the interest has not been even excessive and one-sided, whether\nthe accusation has not been occasionally unjust and the self-accusation\nmorbid, these are questions which it might be possible in some quarters\nto ask. This is, however, only another form of proof of what we say. The\nreligious interest in social questions has not been aroused primarily by\nintellectual and scientific impulses, nor fostered mainly by doctrinaire\ndiscussion. On the contrary, the initiative has been from the practical\nside. It has been a question of life and service. If anything, one often\nmisses the scientific note in the flood of semi-religious literature\nrelating to this theme, the realisation that, to do well, it is often\nprofitable to think. Yet there is effort to mediate the best results of\nsocial-scientific thinking, through clerical education and directly to\nthe laity. On the other hand, a deep sense of ethical and spiritual\nresponsibility is prevalent among thinkers upon social topics.\n\nOften indeed has the quality of Christianity been observed which is here\nexemplified. Each succeeding age has read into Christ's teachings, or\ndrawn out from his example, the special meaning which that generation,\nor that social level, or that individual man had need to draw. To them\nin their enthusiasm it has often seemed as if this were the only lesson\nreasonable men could draw. Nothing could be more enlightening than is\nreflexion upon this reading of the ever-changing ideals of man's life\ninto Christianity, or of Christianity into the ever-advancing ideals of\nman's life. This chameleonlike quality of Christianity is the farthest\npossible remove from the changelessness which men love to attribute to\nreligion. It is the most wonderful quality which Christianity possesses.\nIt is precisely because of the recognition of this capacity for change\nthat one may safely argue the continuance of Christianity in the world.\nYet also because of this recognition, one is put upon his guard against\njoining too easily in the clamour that a past apprehension of religion\nwas altogether wrong, or that a new and urgent one, in its exclusive\nemphasis and its entirety, is right. Our age is haunted by the sense of\nterrific social and economic inequalities which prevail. It has set its\nheart upon the elimination of those inequalities. It is an age whose\ndisrespect for religion is in some part due to the fact that religion\nhas not done away with these inequalities. It is an age which is\nimmediately interested in an interpretation of religion which will make\ncentral the contention that, before all things else, these inequalities\nmust be done away. If religion can be made a means of every man's\ngetting his share of the blessings of this world, well and good. If not,\nthere are many men and women to whom religion seems utterly meaningless.\n\nThis sentence hardly overstates the case. It is the challenge of the age\nto religion to do something which the age profoundly needs, and which\nreligion under its age-long dominant apprehension has not conspicuously\ndone, nor even on a great scale attempted. It is the challenge to\nreligion to undertake a work of surpassing grandeur--nothing less than\nthe actualisation of the whole ideal of the life of man. Religious men\nrespond with the quickened and conscientious conviction, not indeed that\nthey have laid too great an emphasis upon the spiritual, but that under\na dualistic conception of God and man and world, they have never\nsufficiently realised that the spiritual is to be realised in the\nmaterial, the ideal in and not apart from the actual, the eternal in and\nnot after the temporal. Yet with that oscillatory quality which belongs\nto human movements, especially where old wrongs and errors have come\ndeeply to be felt, a part of the literature of the contention shows\nmarked tendency to extremes. A religion in the body must become a\nreligion of the body. A Christianity of the social state runs risk of\nbeing apprehended as merely one more means for compassing outward and\nmaterial ends. Religion does stand for the inner life and the\ntranscendent world, only not an inner life through the neglect of the\nouter, or a transcendent world in some far-off star or after an aeon or\ntwo. There might be meaning in the argument that, exactly because so\nmany other forces in our age do make for the realisation of the outer\nlife and present world with an effectiveness and success which no\nprevious age has ever dreamed, there is the more reason, and not the\nless, why religion should still be religion. Exactly this is the\ncontention of Eueken in one of the most significant contributions of\nrecent years to the philosophy of religion, his _Wahrheitsgehalt der\nReligion_, 1901, transl. Jones, 1911. The very source and cause of the\nsure recovery of religion in our age will be the experience of the\nfutility, the bankruptcy, of a civilisation without faith. No nobler\nargument has been heard in our time for the spiritual meaning of\nreligion, with the fullest recognition of all its other meanings.\n\nThe modern emphasis on the social aspects of religion may be said to\nhave been first clearly expressed in Seeley's _Ecce Homo_, 1867. The\npith of the book is in this phrase: 'To reorganise society and to bind\nthe members of it together by the closest ties was the business of\nJesus' life.' Allusion has been made to Fremantle's _The World as the\nSubject of Redemption_, 1885. Worthy of note is also Fairbairn's\n_Religion in History and Modern Life_, 1894; pre-eminently so is\nBosanquet's _The Civilisation of Christendom_, 1893. Westcott's\n_Incarnation and Common Life_, 1893, contains utterances of weight.\nPeabody, in his book, _Jesus Christ and the Social Question_, 1905, has\ngiven, on the whole, the best resume of the discussion. He conveys\nincidentally an impression of the body of literature produced in recent\nyears, in which it is assumed, sometimes with embitterment, that the\ncentre of gravity of Christianity is outside the Church. Sell, in the\nvery title of his illuminating little book, _Christenthum und\nWeltgeschichte seit der Reformation: das Christenthum in seiner\nEntwickelung ueber die Kirche hinaus_, 1910, records an impression, which\nis widespread and true, that the characteristic mark of modern\nChristianity is that it has transcended the organs and agencies\nofficially created for it. It has become non-ecclesiastical, if not\nactually hostile to the Church. It has permeated the world in unexpected\nfashion and does the deeds of Christianity, though rather eager to avoid\nthe name. The anti-clericalism of the Latin countries is not\nunintelligible, the anti-ecclesiasticism of the Teutonic not without a\ncause. German socialism, ever since Karl Marx, has been fundamentally\nantagonistic to any religion whatsoever. It is purely secularist in\ntone. This is also a strained situation, liable to become perverse. That\npart of the Christian Church which understands itself, rejoices in\nnothing so much as in the fact that the spirit of Christ is so widely\ndisseminated, his influence felt by many who do not know what influence\nit is which they feel, his work done by vast numbers who would never\ncall themselves his workers. That part of the Church is not therewith\nconvinced but that there is need of the Church as institution, and of\nthose who are consciously disciples of Jesus in the world.\n\nBy far the largest question, however, which is raised in this connexion,\nis one different from any thus far intimated. It is, perhaps, the last\nquestion one would have expected the literature of the social movement\nto raise. It is, namely, the question of the individual. Ever since the\nmiddle of the eighteenth century a sort of universalistic optimism, to\nwhich the individual is sacrificed, has obtained. Within the period of\nwhich this book treats the world has won an enlargement of horizon of\nwhich it never dreamed. It has gained a forecast of the future of\nculture and civilisation which is beyond imagination. The access of\ncomfort makes men at home in the world as they never were at home. There\nhas been set a value on this life which life never had before. The\nsuccession of discoveries and applications of discovery makes it seem as\nif there were to be no end in this direction. From Rousseau to Spencer\nmen have elaborated the view that the historical process cannot really\nissue in anything else than in ever higher stages of perfection and of\nhappiness. They postulate a continuous enhancement of energy and a\nsteady perfecting of intellectual and moral quality. As the goal of\nevolution appears an ideal condition which is either indefinitely\nremote, that is, which gives room for the bliss of infinite progress in\nits direction, or else a definitely attainable condition, which would\nhave within itself the conditions of perpetuity.\n\nThe resistlessness with which this new view of the life of civilisation\nhas won acknowledgment from men of all classes is amazing. It rests upon\na belief in the self-sufficiency and the all-sufficiency of the life of\nthis world, of the bearings of which it may be assumed that few of its\nvotaries are aware. In reality this view cannot by any possibility be\ndescribed as the result of knowledge. On the contrary, it is a venture\nof faith. It is the peculiar, the very characteristic and suggestive\nform which the faith of our age takes. Men believe in this indefinite\nprogress of the world and of mankind, because without postulating such\nprogress they do not see how they can assume the absolute worth of an\nactivity which is yet the only thing which has any interest to most of\nthem. Under this view one can assign to the individual life a definite\nsignificance, only upon the supposition that the individual is the organ\nof realisation of a part of this progress of mankind. All happiness and\nsuffering, all changes in knowledge and manner of conduct, are supposed\nto have no worth each for itself or for the sake of the individual, but\nonly for their relation to the movement as a whole. Surely this is an\nillusion. Exactly that in which the characteristic quality of the world\nand of life is found, the individual personalities, the single\ngenerations, the concrete events--these lose, in this view, their own\nparticular worth. What can possibly be the worth of a whole of which the\nparts have no worth? We have here but a parallel on a huge scale of that\ndeadly trait in our own private lives, according to which it makes no\ndifference what we are doing, so only that we are doing, or whither we\nare going, so only that we cease not to go, or what our noise is all\nabout, so only that there be no end of the noise. Certainly no one can\nestablish the value of the evolutionary process in and of itself.\n\nIf the movement as a whole has no definite end that has absolute worth,\nthen it has no worth except as the stages, the individual factors\nincluded in it, attain to something within themselves which is of\nincreasing worth. If the movement achieves this, then it has worth, not\notherwise. We may illustrate this question by asking ourselves\nconcerning the existence and significance of suffering and of the evil\nand of the bad which are in the world, in their relation to this\ntendency to indefinite progress which is supposed to be inherent in\ncivilisation. On this theory we have to say that the suffering of the\nindividual is necessary for the development and perfecting of the whole.\nAs over against the whole the individual has no right to make demands as\nto welfare or happiness. The bad also becomes only relative. In the\nmovement taken as a whole, it is probably unavoidable. In any case it is\nnegligible, since the movement is irresistible. All ethical values are\nabsorbed in the dynamic ones, all personal values in the collective\nones. Surely the sole intelligent question about any civilisation is,\nwhat sort of men does it produce. If it produces worthless individuals,\nit is so far forth a worthless civilisation. If it has sacrificed many\nworthy men in order to produce this ignoble result, then it is more\nobviously ignoble than ever.\n\nFurthermore, this notion of an inherent necessity and an irresistible\ntendency to progress is a chimera. The progress of mankind is a task. It\nis something to which the worthy human spirit is called upon to make\ncontribution. The unworthy never hear the call. Progress is not a\nnatural necessity. It is an ethical obligation. It is a task which has\nbeen fulfilled by previous generations in varying degrees of\nperfectness. It will be participated in by succeeding generations with\nvarying degrees of wisdom and success. But as to there being anything\nautonomous about it, this is sheer hallucination, myth-making again, on\nthe part of those who boast that they despise the myth,\nmiracle-mongering on the part of those who have abjured the miracle,\nnonsense on the part of those who boast that they alone are sane. There\nis no ultimate source of civilisation but the individual, as there is\nalso no issue of civilisation but in individuals. Men, characters,\npersonalities, are the makers of it. Men are the product which is made.\nThe higher stages and achievements of the life of society have come to\npass always and only upon condition that single personalities have\nrecognised the problem, seen their individual duty and known how to\ninspire others with enthusiasm. Periods of decline are always those in\nwhich this personal element cannot make itself felt. Democracies and\nperiods of the intensity of emphasis upon the social movement, tend\ndirectly to the depression and suppression of personality.[7] Such\nreflexions will have served their purpose if they give us some clear\nsense of what we have to understand as the effect of the social movement\non religion. They may give also some forecast of the effect of real\nreligion on the social movement. For religion is the relation of God and\npersonality. It can be social only in the sense that society, in all its\nnormal relations, is the sphere within which that relation of God and\npersonality is to be wrought out.\n\n[Footnote 7: Siebeck, _Religionsphilosophie_, 1893, s. 407.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE ENGLISH-SPEAKING PEOPLES: ACTION AND REACTION\n\n\nIn those aspects of our subject with which we have thus far dealt,\nleadership has been largely with the Germans. Effort was indeed made in\nthe chapter on the sciences to illustrate the progress of thought by\nreference to British writers. In this department the original and\ncreative contribution of British authors was great. There were, however,\nalso in the earlier portion of the nineteenth century movements of\nreligious thought in Great Britain and America related to some of those\nwhich we have previously considered. Moreover, one of the most\ninfluential movements of English religious thought, the so-called Oxford\nMovement, with the Anglo-Catholic revival which it introduced, was of a\nreactionary tendency. It has seemed, therefore, feasible to append to\nthis chapter that which we must briefly say concerning the general\nmovement of reaction which marked the century. This reactionary movement\nhas indeed everywhere run parallel to the one which we have endeavoured\nto record. It has often with vigour run counter to our movement. It has\nrevealed the working of earnest and sometimes anxious minds in\ndirections opposed to those which we have been studying. No one can fail\nto be aware that there has been a great Catholic revival in the\nnineteenth century. That revival has had place in the Roman Catholic\ncountries of the Continent as well. It was in order to include the\nprivilege of reference to these aspects of our subject that this chapter\nwas given a double title. Yet in no country has the nineteenth century\nso favourably altered the position of the Roman Catholic Church as in\nEngland. In no country has a Church which has been esteemed to be\nProtestant been so much influenced by Catholic ideas. This again is a\nreason for including our reference to the reaction here.\n\nAccording to Pfleiderer, a new movement in philosophy may be said to\nhave begun in Great Britain in the year 1825, with the publication of\nColeridge's _Aids to Reflection_. In Coleridge's _Confessions of an\nEnquiring Spirit_, published six years after his death in 1834, we have\na suggestion of the biblical-critical movement which was beginning to\nshape itself in Germany. In the same years we have evidence in the works\nof Erskine and the early writings of Campbell, that in Scotland\ntheologians were thinking on Schleiermacher's lines. In those same years\nbooks of more or less marked rationalistic tendency were put forth by\nthe Oriel School. Finally, with Pusey's _Assize Sermon_, in 1833, Newman\nfelt that the movement later to be called Tractarian had begun. We shall\nnot be wrong, therefore, in saying that the decade following 1825 saw\nthe beginnings in Britain of more formal reflexion upon all the aspects\nof the theme with which we are concerned.\n\nWhat went before that, however, in the way of liberal religious\nthinking, though informal in its nature, should not be ignored. It was\nthe work of the poets of the end of the eighteenth and of the beginning\nof the nineteenth centuries. The culmination of the great revolt against\nthe traditional in state and society and against the conventional in\nreligion, had been voiced in Britain largely by the poets. So vigorous\nwas this utterance and so effective, that some have spoken of the\ncontribution of the English poets to the theological reconstruction. It\nis certain that the utterances of the poets tended greatly to the\ndissemination of the new ideas. There was in Great Britain no such unity\nas we have observed among the Germans, either of the movement as a whole\nor in its various parts. There was a consecution nothing less than\nmarvellous in the work of the philosophers from Kant to Hegel. There was\na theological sequence from Schleiermacher to Ritschl. There was an\nunceasing critical advance from the days of Strauss. There was nothing\nresembling this in the work of the English-speaking people. The\ncontributions were for a long time only sporadic. The movement had no\ninclusiveness. There was no aspect of a solid front in the advance. In\nthe department of the sciences only was the situation different. In a\nway, therefore, it will be necessary in this chapter merely to single\nout individuals, to note points of conflict, one and another, all along\nthe great line of advance. Or, to put it differently, it will be\npossible to pursue a chronological arrangement which would have been\nbewildering in our study heretofore. With the one great division between\nthe progressive spirits and the men of the reaction, it will be possible\nto speak of philosophers, critics and theologians together, among their\nown contemporaries, and so to follow the century as it advances.\n\nIn the closing years of the eighteenth century in England what claimed\nto be a rational supernaturalism prevailed. Men sought to combine faith\nin revealed religion with the empirical philosophy of Locke. They\nconceived God and his relation to the world under deistical forms. The\neducated often lacked in singular degree all deeper religious feeling.\nThey were averse to mysticism and spurned enthusiasm. Utilitarian\nconsiderations, which formed the practical side of the empirical\nphilosophy, played a prominent part also in orthodox belief. The theory\nof the universe which obtained among the religious is seen at its worst\nin some of the volumes of the Warburton Lectures, and at its best\nperhaps in Butler's _Analogy of Natural and Revealed Religion_. The\ncharacter and views of the clergy and of the ruling class among the\nlaity of the Church of England, early in the nineteenth century, are\npictured with love and humour in Trollope's novels. They form the\nbackground in many of George Eliot's books, where, in more mordant\nmanner, both their strength and weaknesses are shown. Even the remarks\nwhich introduce Dean Church's _Oxford Movement_, 1891, in which the\nchurchly element is dealt with in deep affection, give anything but an\ninspiring view.\n\nThe contrast with this would-be rational and unemotional religious\nrespectability of the upper classes was furnished, for masses of the\npeople, in the quickening of the consciousness of sin and grace after\nthe manner of the Methodists. But the Methodism of the earlier age had\nas good as no intellectual relations whatsoever. The Wesleys and\nWhitefield had indeed influenced a considerable portion of the Anglican\ncommunion. Their pietistic trait, combined, for the most part, with a\nCalvinism which Wesley abhorred and an old-fashioned low church feeling\nwith which also Wesley had no sympathy, shows itself in the so-called\nevangelical party which was strong before 1830. This evangelical\nmovement in the Church of England manifested deep religious feeling, it\nput forth zealous philanthropic effort, it had among its representatives\nmen and women of great beauty of personal character and piety. Yet it\nwas completely cut off from any living relation to the thought of the\nage. There was among its representatives no spirit of theological\ninquiry. There was, if anything, less probability of theological\nreconstruction, from this quarter, than from the circles of the older\nGerman pietism, with which this English evangelicalism of the time of\nthe later Georges had not a little in common. There had been a great\nenthusiasm for humanity at the opening of the period of the French\nRevolution, but the excesses and atrocities of the Revolution had\nprofoundly shocked the English mind. There was abroad something of the\nsame sense for the return to nature, and of the greatness of man, which\nmoved Schiller and Goethe. The exponents of it were, however, almost\nexclusively the poets, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats and Byron. There was\nnothing which combined these various elements as parts of a great whole.\nBritain had stood outside the area of the Revolution, and yet had put\nforth stupendous efforts, ultimately successful, to make an end of the\nrevolutionary era and of the Napoleonic despotism. This tended perhaps\nto give to Britons some natural satisfaction in the British Constitution\nand the established Church which flourished under it. Finally, while men\non the Continent were devising holy alliances and other chimeras of the\nsort, England was precipitated into the earlier acute stages of the\nindustrial revolution in which she has led the European nations and\nstill leads. This fact explains a certain preoccupation of the British\nmind with questions remote from theological reconstruction or religious\nspeculation.\n\n\nTHE POETS\n\n\nIt may now sound like a contradiction if we assert that the years from\n1780 to 1830 constitute the era of the noblest English poetry since the\ntimes of great Elizabeth. The social direction of the new theology of\nthe present day, with its cry against every kind of injustice, with its\nclaim of an equal opportunity for a happy life for every man--this was\nthe forecast of Cowper, as it had been of Blake. To Blake all outward\ninfallible authority of books or churches was iniquitous. He was at\ndaggers drawn with every doctrine which set limit to the freedom of all\nmen to love God, or which could doubt that God had loved all men. Jesus\nalone had seen the true thing. God was a father, every man his child.\nLong before 1789, Burns was filled with the new ideas of the freedom and\nbrotherhood of man, with zeal for the overthrow of unjust privilege. He\nhad spoken in imperishable words of the holiness of the common life. He\nhad come into contact with the most dreadful consequences of Calvinism.\nHe has pilloried these mercilessly in his 'Holy Tulzie' and in his 'Holy\nWillie's Prayer.' Such poems must have shaken Calvinism more than a\nthousand liberal sermons could have done. What Coleridge might have done\nin this field, had he not so early turned to prose, it is not easy to\nsay. The verse of his early days rests upon the conviction, fundamental\nto his later philosophy, that all the new ideas concerning men and the\nworld are a revelation of God. Wordsworth seems never consciously to\nhave broken with the current theology. His view of the natural glory and\ngoodness of humanity, especially among the poor and simple, has not much\nrelation to that theology. His view of nature, not as created of God. in\nthe conventional sense, but as itself filled with God, of God as\nconscious of himself at every point of nature's being, has still less.\nMan and nature are but different manifestations of the one soul of all.\nByron's contribution to Christian thought, we need hardly say, was of a\nnegative sort. It was destructive rather than constructive. Among the\nconventions and hypocrisies of society there were none which he more\nutterly despised than those of religion and the Church as he saw these.\nThere is something volcanic, Voltairean in his outbreaks. But there is a\ndifference. Both Voltaire and Byron knew that they had not the current\nreligion. Voltaire thought, nevertheless, that he had a religion.\nPosterity has esteemed that he had little. Byron thought he had none.\nPosterity has felt that he had much. His attack was made in a reckless\nbitterness which lessened its effect. Yet the truth of many things which\nhe said is now overwhelmingly obvious. Shelley began with being what he\ncalled an atheist. He ended with being what we call an agnostic, whose\npure poetic spirit carried him far into the realm of the highest\nidealism. The existence of a conscious will within the universe is not\nquite thinkable. Yet immortal love pervades the whole. Immortality is\nimprobable, but his highest flights continually imply it. He is sure\nthat when any theology violates the primary human affections, it\ntramples into the dust all thoughts and feelings by which men may become\ngood. The men who, about 1840, stood paralysed between what Strauss\nlater called 'the old faith and the new,' or, as Arnold phrased it, were\n'between two worlds, one dead, the other powerless to be born,' found\ntheir inmost thoughts written broad for them in Arthur Clough. From the\ntime of the opening of Tennyson's work, the poets, not by destruction\nbut by construction, not in opposition to religion but in harmony with\nit, have built up new doctrines of God and man and aided incalculably in\npreparing the way for a new and nobler theology. In the latter part of\nthe nineteenth century there was perhaps no one man in England who did\nmore to read all of the vast advance of knowledge in the light of higher\nfaith, and to fill such a faith with the spirit of the glad advance of\nknowledge, than did Browning. Even Arnold has voiced in his poetry not a\nlittle of the noblest conviction of the age. And what shall one say of\nMrs. Browning, of the Rossettis and William Morris, of Emerson and\nLowell, of Lanier and Whitman, who have spoken, often with consummate\npower and beauty, that which one never says at all without faith and\nrarely says well without art?\n\n\nCOLERIDGE\n\n\nSamuel Taylor Coleridge was born in 1772 at his father's vicarage,\nOttery St. Mary's, Devonshire. He was the tenth child of his parents,\nweak in frame, always suffering much. He was a student at Christ's\nHospital, London, where he was properly bullied, then at Jesus College,\nCambridge, where he did not take his degree. For some happy years he\nlived in the Lake region and was the friend of Wordsworth and Southey.\nHe studied in Goettingen, a thing almost unheard of in his time. The\nyears 1798 to 1813 were indeed spent in utter misery, through the opium\nhabit which he had contracted while seeking relief from rheumatic pain.\nHe wrote and taught and talked in Highgate from 1814 to 1834. He had\nplanned great works which never took shape. For a brief period he\nsevered his connexion with the English Church, coming under Unitarian\ninfluence. He then reverted to the relation in which his ecclesiastical\ninstincts were satisfied. We read his _Aids to Reflection_ and his\n_Confessions of an Enquiring Spirit_, and wonder how they can ever have\nexerted a great influence. Nevertheless, they were fresh and stimulating\nin their time. That Coleridge was a power, we have testimony from men\ndiffering among themselves so widely as do Hare, Sterling, Newman and\nJohn Stuart Mill. He was a master of style. He had insight and breadth.\nTulloch says of the _Aids_, that it is a book which none but a thinker\nupon divine things will ever like. Not all even of these have liked it.\nInexcusably fragmentary it sometimes seems. One is fain to ask: What\nright has any man to publish a scrap-book of his musings? Coleridge had\nthe ambition to lay anew the foundations of spiritual philosophy. The\n_Aids_ were but of the nature of prolegomena. For substance his\nphilosophy went back to Locke and Hume and to the Cambridge Platonists.\nHe had learned of Kant and Schleiermacher as well. He was no\nmetaphysician, but a keen interpreter of spiritual facts, who himself\nhad been quickened by a particularly painful experience. He saw in\nChristianity, rightly conceived, at once the true explanation of our\nspiritual being and the remedy for its disorder. The evangelical\ntradition brought religion to a man from without. It took no account of\nman's spiritual constitution, beyond the fact that he was a sinner and\nin danger of hell. Coleridge set out, not from sin alone, but from the\nwhole deep basis of spiritual capacity and responsibility upon which sin\nrests. He asserts experience. We are as sure of the capacity for the\ngood and of the experience of the good as we can be of the evil. The\ncase is similar as to the truth. There are aspects of truth which\ntranscend our powers. We use words without meaning when we talk of the\nplans of a being who is neither an object for our senses nor a part of\nour self-consciousness. All truth must be capable of being rendered into\nwords conformable to reason. Theologians had declared their doctrines\ntrue or false without reference to the subjective standard of judgment.\nColeridge contended that faith must rest not merely upon objective data,\nbut upon inward experience. The authority of Scripture is in its\ntruthfulness, its answer to the highest aspirations of the human reason\nand the most urgent necessities of the moral life. The doctrine of an\natonement is intelligible only in so far as it too comes within the\nrange of spiritual experience. The apostolic language took colour from\nthe traditions concerning sacrifice. Much has been taken by the Church\nas literal dogmatic statement which should be taken as more figure of\nspeech, borrowed from Jewish sources.\n\nColeridge feared that his thoughts concerning Scripture might, if\npublished, do more harm than good. They were printed first in 1840.\nTheir writing goes back into the period long before the conflict raised\nby Strauss. There is not much here that one might not have learned from\nHerder and Lessing. Utterances of Whately and Arnold showed that minds\nin England were waking. But Coleridge's utterances rest consistently\nupon the philosophy of religion and theory of dogma which have been\nabove implied. They are more significant than are mere flashes of\ngenerous insight, like those of the men named. The notion of verbal\ninspiration or infallible dictation of the Holy Scriptures could not\npossibly survive after the modern spirit of historical inquiry had made\nitself felt. The rabbinical idea was bound to disappear. A truer sense\nof the conditions attending the origins and progress of civilisation and\nof the immaturities through which religious as well as moral and social\nideas advance, brought of necessity a changed idea of the nature of\nScripture and revelation. Its literature must be read as literature, its\nhistory as history. For the answer in our hearts to the spirit in the\nBook, Coleridge used the phrase: 'It finds me.' 'Whatever finds me bears\nwitness to itself that it has proceeded from the Holy Ghost. In the\nBible there is more that finds me than in all the other books which I\nhave read.' Still, there is much in the Bible that does not find me. It\nis full of contradictions, both moral and historical. Are we to regard\nthese as all equally inspired? The Scripture itself does not claim that.\nBesides, what good would it do us to claim that the original documents\nwere inerrant, unless we could claim also that they had been inerrantly\ntransmitted? Apparently Coleridge thought that no one would ever claim\nthat. Coleridge wrote also concerning the Church. His volume on _The\nConstitution of Church and State_ appeared in 1830. It is the least\nsatisfactory of his works. The vacillation of Coleridge's own course\nshowed that upon this point his mind was never clear. Arnold also,\nthough in a somewhat different way, was zealous for the theory that\nChurch and State are really identical, the Church being merely the State\nin its educational and religious aspect and organisation. If Thomas\nArnold's moral earnestness and his generous spirit could not save this\ntheory from being chimerical, no better result was to be expected from\nColeridge.\n\n\nTHE ORIEL SCHOOL\n\n\nIt has often happened in the history of the English universities that a\ngiven college has become, through its body of tutors and students,\nthrough its common-room talk and literary work, the centre, for the\ntime, of a movement of thought which gives leadership to the college. In\nthis manner it has been customary to speak of the group of men who,\nbefore the rise of the Oxford Movement, gathered at Oriel College, as\nthe Oriel School. Newman and Keble were both Oriel tutors. The Oriel men\nwere of distinctly liberal tendency. There were men of note among them.\nThere was Whately, Archbishop of Dublin after 1831, and Copleston, from\nwhom both Keble and Newman owned that they learned much. There was\nArnold, subsequently Headmaster of Rugby. There was Hampden, Professor\nof Divinity after 1836. The school was called from its liberalism the\nNoetic school. Whether this epithet contained more of satire or of\ncomplacency it is difficult to say. These men arrested attention and\nfilled some of the older academic and ecclesiastical heads with alarm.\nWithout disrespect one may say that it is difficult now to understand\nthe commotion which they made. Arnold had a truly beautiful character.\nWhat he might have done as Professor of Ecclesiastical History in Oxford\nwas never revealed, for he died in 1842. Whately, viewed as a noetic,\nappears commonplace.\n\nPerhaps the only one of the group upon whom we need dwell was Hampden.\nIn his Bampton Lectures of 1832, under the title of _The Scholastic\nPhilosophy considered in its Relation to Christian Theology_, he\nassailed what had long been the very bulwark of traditionalism. His idea\nwas to show how the vast fabric of scholastic theology had grown up,\nparticularly what contributions had been made to it in the Middle Age.\nThe traditional dogma is a structure reared upon the logical terminology\nof the patristic and mediaeval schools. It has little foundation in\nScripture and no response in the religious consciousness. We have here\nthe application, within set limits, of the thesis which Harnack in our\nown time has applied in a universal way. Hampden's opponents were not\nwrong in saying that his method would dissolve, not merely that\nparticular system of theology, but all creeds and theologies whatsoever.\nPatristic, mediaeval Catholic theology and scholastic Protestantism, no\nless, would go down before it. A pamphlet attributed to Newman,\npublished in 1836, precipitated a discussion which, for bitterness, has\nrarely been surpassed in the melancholy history of theological dispute.\nThe excitement went to almost unheard of lengths. In the controversy the\nArchbishop, Dr. Howley, made but a poor figure. The Duke of Wellington\ndid not add to his fame. Wilberforce and Newman never cleared themselves\nof the suspicion of indirectness. This was, however, after the opening\nof the Oxford Movement.\n\n\nERSKINE AND CAMPBELL\n\n\nThe period from 1820 to 1850 was one of religious and intellectual\nactivity in Scotland as well. Tulloch depicts with a Scotsman's\npatriotism the movement which centres about the names of Erskine and\nCampbell. Pfleiderer also judges that their contribution was as\nsignificant as any made to dogmatic theology in Great Britain in the\nnineteenth century. They achieved the same reconstruction of the\ndoctrine of salvation which had been effected by Kant and\nSchleiermacher. At their hands the doctrine was rescued from that\nforensic externality into which Calvinism had degenerated. It was given\nagain its quality of ethical inwardness, and based directly upon\nreligious experience. High Lutheranism had issued in the same\nexternality in Germany before Kant and Schleiermacher, and the New\nEngland theology before Channing and Bushnell. The merits of Christ\nachieved an external salvation, of which a man became participant\npractically upon condition of assent to certain propositions. Similarly,\nin the Catholic revival, salvation was conceived as an external and\nfuture good, of which a man became participant through the sacraments\napplied to him by priests in apostolical succession. In point of\nexternality there was not much to choose between views which were felt\nto be radically opposed the one to the other.\n\nErskine was not a man theologically educated. He led a peculiarly\nsecluded life. He was an advocate by profession, but, withdrawing from\nthat career, virtually gave himself up to meditation. Campbell was a\nminister of the Established Church of Scotland in a remote village, Row,\nupon the Gare Loch. When he was convicted of heresy and driven from the\nministry, he also devoted himself to study and authorship. Both men seem\nto have come to their results largely from the application of their own\nsound religious sense to the Scriptures. That the Scottish Church should\nhave rejected the truth for which these men contended was the heaviest\nblow which it could have inflicted on itself. Thereby it arrested its\nown healthy development. It perpetuated its traditional view, somewhat\nas New England orthodoxy was given a new lease of life through the\npartisanship which the Unitarian schism engendered. The matter was not\nmended at the time of the great rupture of the Scottish Church in 1843.\nThat body which broke away from the Establishment, and achieved a purely\necclesiastical control of its own clergy, won, indeed, by this means the\nname of the Free Church, though, in point of theological opinion, it was\nfar from representing the more free and progressive element. Tulloch\npays a beautiful tribute to the character of Erskine, whom he knew.\nQuiet, brooding, introspective, he read his Bible and his own soul, and\nwith singular purity of intuition generalised from his own experience.\nTherewith is described, however, both the power and the limitation of\nhis work. His first book was entitled _Remarks on the Internal Evidence\nfor the Truth of Revealed Religion_, 1820. The title itself is\nsuggestive of the revolution through which the mind both of Erskine and\nof his age was passing. His book, _The Unconditional Freeness of the\nGospel_, appeared in 1828; _The Brazen Serpent_ in 1831. Men have\nconfounded forgiveness and pardon. They have made pardon equivalent to\nsalvation. But salvation is character. Forgiveness is only one of the\nmeans of it. Salvation is not a future good. It is a present fellowship\nwith God. It is sanctification of character by means of our labour and\nGod's love. The fall was the rise of the spirit of freedom. Fallen man\ncan never be saved except through glad surrender of his childish\nindependence to the truth and goodness of God. Yet that surrender is the\npreservation and enlargement of our independence. It is the secret of\ntrue self-realisation. The sufferings of Christ reveal God's holy love.\nIt is not as if God's love had been purchased by the sufferings of his\nSon. On the contrary, it is man who needs to believe in God's love, and\nso be reconciled to the God whom he has feared and hated. Christ\novercomes sin by obediently enduring the suffering which sin naturally\nentails. He endures it in pure love of his brethren. Man must overcome\nsin in the same way.\n\nCampbell published, so late as 1856, his great work _The Nature of the\nAtonement and its Relation to the Remission of Sins and Eternal Life_.\nIt was the matured result of the reflections of a quarter of a century,\nspent partly in enforced retirement after 1831. Campbell maintains\nunequivocally that the sacrifice of Christ cannot be understood as a\npunishment due to man's sin, meted out to Christ in man's stead. Viewed\nretrospectively, Christ's work in the atonement is but the highest\nexample of a law otherwise universally operative. No man can work\nredemption for his fellows except by entering into their condition, as\nif everything in that condition were his own, though much of it may be\nin no sense his due. It is freely borne by him because of his\nidentification of himself with them. Campbell lingers in the myth of\nChrist's being the federal head of the humanity. There is something\npathetic in the struggle of his mind to save phrases and the\nparaphernalia of an ancient view which, however, his fundamental\nprinciple rendered obsolete, He struggles to save the word satisfaction,\nthough it means nothing in his system save that God is satisfied as he\ncontemplates the character of Christ. Prospectively considered, the\nsacrifice of Christ effects salvation by its moral power over men in\nexample and inspiration. Vicarious sacrifice, the result of which was\nmerely imputed, would leave the sinner just where he was before. It is\nan empty fiction. But the spectacle of suffering freely undertaken for\nour sakes discovers the treasures of the divine image in man. The love\nof God and a man's own resolve make him in the end, in fact, that which\nhe has always been in capacity and destiny, a child of God, possessed of\nthe secret of a growing righteousness, which is itself salvation.\n\n\nMAURICE\n\n\nScottish books seem to have been but little read in England in that day.\nIt was Maurice who first made the substance of Campbell's teaching known\nin England. Frederick Denison Maurice was the son of a Unitarian\nminister, educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, at a time when it was\nimpossible for a Nonconformist to obtain a degree. He was ordained a\npriest of the Church of England in 1834, even suffering himself to be\nbaptised again. He was chaplain of Lincoln's Inn and Professor of\nTheology in King's College, London. After 1866 he was Professor of Moral\nPhilosophy in Cambridge, though his life-work was over. At the heart of\nMaurice's theology lies the contention to which he gave the name of\nuniversal redemption. Christ's work is for every man. Every man is\nindeed in Christ. Man's unhappiness lies only in the fact that he will\nnot own this fact and live accordingly. Man as man is the child of God.\nHe cannot undo that fact or alter that relation if he would. He does not\nneed to become a child of God, as the phrase has been. He needs only to\nrecognise that he already is such a child. He can never cease to bear\nthis relationship. He can only refuse to fulfil it. With other words\nErskine and Coleridge and Schleiermacher had said this same thing.\n\nFor the rest, one may speak briefly of Maurice. He was animated by the\nstrongest desire for Church unity, but at the back of his mind lay a\nconception of the Church and an insistence upon uniformity which made\nunity impossible. In the light of his own inheritance his ecclesiastical\npositivism seems strange. Perhaps it was the course of his experience\nwhich made this irrational positivism natural. Few men in his generation\nsuffered greater persecutions under the unwarranted supposition on the\npart of contemporaries that he had a liberal mind. In reality, few men\nin his generation had less of a quality which, had he possessed it,\nwould have given him peace and joy even in the midst of his\npersecutions. The casual remark above made concerning Campbell is true\nin enhanced degree of Maurice. A large part of the industry of a very\nindustrious life was devoted to the effort to convince others and\nhimself that those few really wonderful glimpses of spiritual truth\nwhich he had, had no disastrous consequences for an inherited system of\nthought in which they certainly did not take their rise. His name was\nconnected with the social enthusiasm that inaugurated a new movement in\nEngland which will claim attention in another paragraph.\n\n\nCHANNING\n\n\nAllusion has been made to a revision of traditional theology which took\nplace in America also, upon the same general lines which we have seen in\nSchleiermacher and in Campbell. The typical figure here, the protagonist\nof the movement, is William Ellery Channing. It may be doubted whether\nthere has ever been a civilisation more completely controlled by its\nChurch and ministers, or a culture more entirely dominated by theology,\nthan were those of New England until the middle of the eighteenth\ncentury. There had been indeed a marked decline in religious life. The\nhistory of the Great Awakening shows that. Remonstrances against the\nGreat Awakening show also how men's minds were moving away from the\ntheory of the universe which the theology of that movement implied. One\ncannot say that in the preaching of Hopkins there is an appreciable\nrelaxation of the Edwardsian scheme. Interestingly enough, it was in\nNewport that Channing was born and with Hopkins that he associated until\nthe time of his licensure to preach in 1802. Many thought that Channing\nwould stand with the most stringent of the orthodox. Deism and\nrationalism had made themselves felt in America after the Revolution.\nChanning, during his years in Harvard College, can hardly have failed to\ncome into contact with the criticism of religion from this side. There\nis no such clear influence of current rationalism upon Channing as, for\nexample, upon Schleiermacher. Yet here in the West, which most Europeans\nthought of as a wilderness, circumstances brought about the launching of\nthis man upon the career of a liberal religious thinker, when as yet\nSchleiermacher had hardly advanced beyond the position of the\n_Discourses_, when Erskine had not yet written a line and Campbell was\nstill a child. Channing became minister of the Federal Street Church in\nBoston in 1803. The appointment of Ware as Hollis Professor of Divinity\nin Harvard College took place in 1805. That appointment was the first\nclear indication of the liberal party's strength. Channing's Baltimore\nAddress was delivered in 1819. He died in 1847.\n\nIn the schism among the Congregational Churches in New England, which\nbefore 1819 apparently had come to be regarded by both parties as\nremediless, Channing took the side of the opposition to Calvinistic\northodoxy. He developed qualities as controversialist and leader which\nthe gentler aspect of his early years had hardly led men to suspect.\nThis American liberal movement had been referred to by Belsham as\nrelated to English Unitarianism. After 1815, in this country, by its\nopponents at least, the movement was consistently called Unitarian.\nChanning did with zeal contend against the traditional doctrine of the\natonement and of the trinity. On the other hand, he saw in Christ the\nperfect revelation of God to humanity and at the same time the ideal of\nhumanity. He believed in Jesus' sinlessness and in his miracles,\nespecially in his resurrection. The keynote of Channing's character and\nconvictions is found in his sense of the inherent greatness of man. Of\nthis feeling his entire system is but the unfolding. It was early and\ndeliberately adopted by him as a fundamental faith. It remained the\nimmovable centre of his reverence and trust amid all the inroads of\ndoubt and sorrow. Political interest was as natural to Channing's\nearlier manhood as it had been to Fichte in the emergency of the\nFatherland. Similarly, in the later years of his life, when evils\nconnected with slavery had made themselves felt, his participation in\nthe abolitionist agitation showed the same enthusiasm and practical\nbent. He had his dream of communism, his perception of the evils of our\nindustrial system, his contempt for charity in place of economic remedy.\nAll was for man, all rested upon supreme faith in man. That man is\nendowed with knowledge of the right and with the power to realise it,\nwas a fundamental maxim. Hence arose Channing's assertion of free-will.\nThe denial of free-will renders the sentiment of duty but illusory. In\nthe conscience there is both a revelation and a type of God. Its\nsuggestions, by the very authority they carry with them, declare\nthemselves to be God's law. God, concurring with our highest nature,\npresent in its action, can be thought of only after the pattern which he\ngives us in ourselves. Whatever revelation God makes of himself, he must\ndeal with us as with free beings living under natural laws. Revelation\nmust be merely supplementary to those laws. Everything arbitrary and\nmagical, everything which despairs of us or insults us as moral agents,\neverything which does not address itself to us through reason and\nconscience, must be excluded from the intercourse between God and man.\nWhat the doctrines of salvation and atonement, of the person of Christ\nand of the influence of the Holy Spirit, as construed from this centre\nwould be, may without difficulty be surmised. The whole of Channing's\nteaching is bathed in an atmosphere of the reverent love of God which is\nthe very source of his enthusiasm for man.\n\n\nBUSHNELL\n\n\nA very different man was Horace Bushnell, born in the year of Channing's\nlicensure, 1802. He was not bred under the influence of the strict\nCalvinism of his day. His father was an Arminian. Edwards had made\nArminians detested in New England. His mother had been reared in the\nEpiscopal Church. She was of Huguenot origin. When about seventeen,\nwhile tending a carding-machine, he wrote a paper in which he\nendeavoured to bring Calvinism into logical coherence and, in the\ninterest of sound reason, to correct St. Paul's willingness to be\naccursed for the sake of his brethren. He graduated from Yale College in\n1827. He taught there while studying law after 1829. He describes\nhimself at this period as sound in ethics and sceptical in religion, the\nsoundness of his morals being due to nature and training, the\nscepticism, to the theology in which he was involved. His law studies\nwere complete, yet he turned to the ministry. He had been born on the\northodox side of the great contention in which Channing was a leader of\nthe liberals in the days of which we speak. He never saw any reason to\nchange this relation. His clerical colleagues, for half a life-time,\nsought to change it for him. In 1833 he was ordained and installed as\nminister of the North Church in Hartford, a pastorate which he never\nleft. The process of disintegration of the orthodox body was continuing.\nThere was almost as much rancour between the old and the new orthodoxy\nas between orthodox and Unitarians themselves. Almost before his career\nwas well begun an incurable disease fastened itself upon him. Not much\nlater, all the severity of theological strife befell him. Between these\ntwo we have to think of him doing his work and keeping his sense of\nhumour.\n\nHis earliest book of consequence was on _Christian Nurture_, published\nin 1846. Consistent Calvinism presupposes in its converts mature years.\nEven an adult must pass through waters deep for him. He is not a sinful\nchild of the Father. He is a being totally depraved and damned to\neverlasting punishment. God becomes his Father only after he is\nredeemed. The revivalists' theory Bushnell bitterly opposed. It made of\nreligion a transcendental matter which belonged on the outside of life,\na kind of miraculous epidemic. He repudiated the prevailing\nindividualism. He anticipated much that is now being said concerning\nheredity, environment and subconsciousness. He revived the sense of the\nChurch in which Puritanism had been so sadly lacking. The book is a\nclassic, one of the rich treasures which the nineteenth century offers\nto the twentieth.\n\nBushnell, so far as one can judge, had no knowledge of Kant. He is,\nnevertheless, dealing with Kant's own problem, of the theory of\nknowledge, in his rather diffuse 'Dissertation on Language,' which is\nprefixed to the volume which bears the title _God in Christ_, 1849. He\nwas following his living principle, the reference of doctrine to\nconscience. God must be a 'right God.' Dogma must make no assertion\nconcerning God which will not stand this test. Not alone does the dogma\nmake such assertions. The Scripture makes them as well. How can this be?\nWhat is the relation of language to thought and of thought to fact? How\ncan the language of Scripture be explained, and yet the reality of the\nrevelation not be explained away? There is a touching interest which\nattaches to this Hartford minister, working out, alone and clumsily, a\nproblem the solution of which the greatest minds of the age had been\ngradually bringing to perfection for three-quarters of a century.\n\nIn the year 1848 Bushnell was invited to give addresses at the\nCommencements of three divinity schools: that at Harvard, then\nunqualifiedly Unitarian; that at Andover, where the battle with\nUnitarianism had been fought; and that at Yale, where Bushnell had been\ntrained. The address at Cambridge was on the subject of _the Atonement_;\nthe one at New Haven on _the Divinity of Christ_, including Bushnell's\ndoctrine of the trinity; the one at Andover on _Dogma and Spirit_, a\nplea for the cessation of strife. He says squarely of the old school\ntheories of the atonement, which represent Christ as suffering the\npenalty of the law in our stead: 'They are capable, one and all of them,\nof no light in which they do not offend some right sentiment of our\nmoral being. If the great Redeemer, in the excess of his goodness,\nconsents to receive the penal woes of the world in his person, and if\nthat offer is accepted, what does it signify, save that God will have\nhis modicum of suffering somehow; and if he lets the guilty go he will\nyet satisfy himself out of the innocent?' The vicariousness of love, the\nidentification of the sufferer with the sinner, in the sense that the\nSaviour is involved by his desire to help us in the woes which naturally\nfollow sin, this Bushnell mightily affirmed. Yet there is no pretence\nthat he used vicariousness or satisfaction in the same sense in which\nhis adversaries did. He is magnificently free from all such indirection.\nIn the New Haven address there is this same combination of fire and\nlight. The chief theological value of the doctrine of the trinity, as\nmaintained by the New England Calvinistic teachers, had been to furnish\nthe _dramatis personae_ for the doctrine of the atonement. In the\nspeculation as to the negotiation of this substitutionary transaction,\nthe language of the theologians had degenerated into stark tritheism.\nEdwards, describing the councils of the trinity, spoke of the three\npersons as 'they.' Bushnell saw that any proper view of the unity of God\nmade the forensic idea of the atonement incredible. He sought to replace\nthe ontological notion of the trinity by that of a trinity of\nrevelation, which held for him the practical truths by which his faith\nwas nourished, and yet avoided the contradictions which the other\ndoctrine presented both to reason and faith. Bushnell would have been\nfar from claiming that he was the first to make this fight. The American\nUnitarians had been making it for more than a generation. The Unitarian\nprotest was wholesome. It was magnificent. It was providential, but it\npaused in negation. It never advanced to construction. Bushnell's\nsignificance is not that he fought this battle, but that he fought it\nfrom the ranks of the orthodox Church. He fought it with a personal\nequipment which Channing had not had. He was decades later in his work.\nHe took up the central religious problem when Channing's successors were\nfollowing either Emerson or Parker.\n\nThe Andover address consisted in the statement of Bushnell's views of\nthe causes which had led to the schism in the New England Church. A\nsingle quotation may give the key-note of the discourse:--'We had on our\nside an article of the creed which asserted a metaphysical trinity. That\nmade the assertion of the metaphysical unity inevitable and desirable.\nWe had theories of atonement, of depravity, of original sin, which\nrequired the appearance of antagonistic theories. On our side,\ntheological culture was so limited that we took what was really only our\nown opinion for the unalterable truth of God. On the other side, it was\nso limited that men, perceiving the insufficiency of dogma, took the\nopposite contention with the same seriousness and totality of\nconviction. They asserted liberty, as indeed they must, to vindicate\ntheir revolt. They produced, meantime, the most intensely human and, in\nthat sense, the most intensely opinionated religion ever invented.'\n\n\nTHE CATHOLIC REVIVAL\n\n\nThe Oxford Movement has been spoken of as a reaction against the\nso-called Oriel Movement, a conservative tendency over against an\nintellectualist and progressive one. In a measure the personal\nanimosities within the Oxford circle may be accounted for in this way.\nThe Tractarian Movement, however, which issued, on the one hand, in the\ngoing over of Newman to the Church of Rome and, on the other, in a great\nrevival of Catholic principles within the Anglican Church itself, stands\nin a far larger setting. It was not merely an English or insular\nmovement. It was a wave from a continental flood. On its own showing it\nwas not merely an ecclesiastical movement. It had political and social\naims as well. There was a universal European reaction against the\nEnlightenment and the Revolution. That reaction was not simple, but\ncomplex. It was a revolt of the conservative spirit from the new ideals\nwhich had been suddenly translated into portentous realities. It was\nmarked everywhere by hatred of the eighteenth century with all its ways\nand works. On the one side we have the revolutionary thesis, the rights\nof man, the authority of reason, the watchwords liberty, equality,\nfraternity. On the other side stood forth those who were prepared to\nassert the meaning of community, the continuity of history, spiritual as\nwell as civil authority as the basis of order, and order as the\ncondition of the highest good. In literature the tendency appears as\nromanticism, in politics as legitimism, in religion as ultramontanism.\nLe Maistre with his _L'Eglise gallicane du Pape_; Chateaubriand with his\n_Genie du Christianisme_; Lamennais with his _Essai sur l'Indifference\nen Matiere, de Religion_, were, from 1820 to 1860, the exponents of a\nview which has had prodigious consequences for France and Italy. The\nromantic movement arose outside of Catholicism. It was impersonated in\nHerder. Friedrich Schlegel, Werner and others went over to the Roman\nChurch. The political reaction was specifically Latin and Catholic. In\nthe lurid light of anarchy Rome seemed to have a mission again. Divine\nright in the State must be restored through the Church. The Catholic\napologetic saw the Revolution as only the logical conclusion of the\npremises of the Reformation. The religious revolt of the sixteenth\ncentury, the philosophical revolt of the seventeenth, the political\nrevolt of the eighteenth, the social revolt of the nineteenth, are all\nparts of one dreadful sequence. As the Church lifted up the world after\nthe first flood of the barbarians, so must she again lift up the world\nafter the devastations made by the more terrible barbarians of the\neighteenth century. England had indeed stood a little outside of the\ncyclone which had devastated the world from Coronna to Moscow and from\nthe Channel to the Pyramids, but she had been exhausted in putting down\nthe revolution. Only God's goodness had preserved England. The logic of\nPuritanism would have been the same. Indeed, in England the State was\nweaker and worse than were the states upon the Continent. For since 1688\nit had been a popular and constitutional monarchy. In Frederick\nWilliam's phrase, its sovereign took his crown from the gutter. The\nChurch was through and through Erastian, a creature of the State.\nBishops were made by party representatives. Acts like the Reform Bills,\nthe course of the Government in the matter of the Irish Church, were\nsteps which would surely bring England to the pass which France had\nreached in 1789. The source of such acts was wrong. It was with the\npeople. It was in men, not in God. It was in reason, not in authority.\nIt would be difficult to overstate the strength of this reactionary\nsentiment in important circles in England at the end of the third decade\nof the nineteenth century.\n\n\nTHE OXFORD MOVEMENT\n\n\nIn so far as that complex of causes just alluded to made of the Oxford\nMovement or the Catholic revival a movement of life, ecclesiastical,\nsocial and political as well, its history falls outside the purpose of\nthis book. We proposed to deal with the history of thought. Reactionary\nmovements have frequently got on without much thought. They have left\nlittle deposit of their own in the realm of ideas. Their avowed\nprinciple has been that of recurrence to that which has already been\nthought, of fidelity to ideas which have long prevailed. This is the\nreason why the conservatives have not a large place in such a sketch as\nthis. It is not that their writings have not often been full of high\nlearning and of the subtlest of reasoning. It is only that the ideas\nabout which they reason do not belong to the history of the nineteenth\ncentury. They belong, on the earnest contention of the conservatives\nthemselves--those of Protestants, to the history of the Reformation--and\nof Catholics, both Anglican and Roman, to the history of the early or\nmediaeval Church.\n\nNevertheless, when with passionate conviction a great man, taking the\nreactionary course, thinks the problem through again from his own point\nof view, then we have a real phenomenon in the history of contemporary\nthought. When such an one wrestles before God to give reason to himself\nand to his fellows for the faith that is in him, then the reactionary's\nreasoning is as imposing and suggestive as is any other. He leaves in\nhis work an intellectual deposit which must be considered. He makes a\ncontribution which must be reckoned with, even more seriously, perhaps,\nby those who dissent from it than by those who may agree with it. Such\ndeposit Newman and the Tractarian movement certainly did make. They\noffered a rationale of the reaction. They gave to the Catholic revival a\nstanding in the world of ideas, not merely in the world of action.\nWhether their reasoning has weight to-day, is a question upon which\nopinion is divided. Yet Newman and his compeers, by their character and\nstanding, by their distinctively English qualities and by the road of\nreason which they took in the defence of Catholic principles, made\nCatholicism English again, in a sense in which it had not been English\nfor three hundred years. Yet though Newman brought to the Roman Church\nin England, on his conversion to it, a prestige and qualities which in\nthat communion were unequalled, he was never _persona grata_ in that\nChurch. Outwardly the Roman Catholic revival in England was not in large\nmeasure due to Newman and his arguments. It was due far more to men like\nWiseman and Manning, who were not men of argument but of deeds.\n\n\nNEWMAN\n\n\nJohn Henry Newman was born in 1801, the son of a London banker. His\nmother was of Huguenot descent. He came under Calvinistic influence.\nThrough study especially, of Romaine _On Faith_ he became the subject of\nan inward conversion, of which in 1864 he wrote: 'I am still more\ncertain of it than that I have hands and feet.' Thomas Scott, the\nevangelical, moved him. Before he was sixteen he made a collection of\nScripture texts in proof of the doctrine of the trinity. From Newton _On\nthe Prophecies_ he learned to identify the Pope with anti-Christ--a\ndoctrine by which, he adds, his imagination was stained up to the year\n1843. In his _Apologia_, 1865, he declares: 'From the age of fifteen,\ndogma has been a fundamental principle of my religion. I cannot enter\ninto the idea of any other sort of religion.' At the age of twenty-one,\ntwo years after he had taken his degree, he came under very different\ninfluences. He passed from Trinity College to a fellowship in Oriel. To\nuse his own phrase, he drifted in the direction of liberalism. He was\ntouched by Whately. He was too logical, and also too dogmatic, to be\nsatisfied with Whately's position. Of the years from 1823 to 1827 Mozley\nsays: 'Probably no one who then knew Newman could have told which way he\nwould go. It is not certain that he himself knew.' Francis W. Newman,\nNewman's brother, who later became a Unitarian, remembering his own\nyears of stress, speaks with embitterment of his elder brother, who was\nprofoundly uncongenial to him.\n\nThe year 1827, in which Keble's _Christian Year_ was published, saw\nanother change in Newman's views. Illness and bereavement came to him\nwith awakening effect. He made the acquaintance of Hurrell Froude.\nFroude brought Newman and Keble together. Henceforth Newman bore no more\ntraces either of evangelicalism or of liberalism. Of Froude it is\ndifficult to speak with confidence. His brother, James Anthony Froude,\nthe historian, author of the _Nemesis of Faith_, 1848, says that he was\ngifted, brilliant, enthusiastic. Newman speaks of him with almost\nboundless praise. Two volumes of his sermons, published after his death\nin 1836, make the impression neither of learning nor judgment. Clearly\nhe had charm. Possibly he talked himself into a common-room reputation.\nNewman says: 'Froude made me look with admiration toward the Church of\nRome.' Keble never had felt the liberalism through which Newman had\npassed. Cradled as the Church of England had been in Puritanism, the\nlatter was to him simply evil. Opinions differing from his own were not\nsimply mistaken, they were sinful. He conceived no religious truth\noutside the Church of England. In the _Christian Year_ one perceives an\ninfluence which Newman strongly felt. It was that of the idea of the\nsacramental significance of all natural objects or events. Pusey became\nprofessor of Hebrew in 1830. He lent the movement academic standing,\nwhich the others could not give. He had been in Germany, and had\npublished an _Inquiry into the Rationalist Character of German\nTheology_, 1825. He hardly did more than expose the ignorance of Rose.\nHe was himself denounced as a German rationalist who dared to speak of a\nnew era in theology. Pusey, mourning the defection of Newman, whom he\ndeeply loved, gathered in 1846 the forces of the Anglo-Catholics and\ncontinued in some sense a leader to the end of his long life in 1882.\n\nThe course of political events was fretting the Conservatives\nintolerably. The agitation for the Reform Bill was taking shape. Sir\nRobert Peel, the member for Oxford, had introduced a Bill for the\nemancipation of the Roman Catholics. There was violent commotion in\nOxford. Keble and Newman strenuously opposed the measure. In 1830 there\nwas revolution in France. In England the Whigs had come into power.\nNewman's mind was excited in the last degree. 'The vital question,' he\nsays, 'is this, how are we to keep the Church of England from being\nliberalised?' At the end of 1832 Newman and Froude went abroad together.\nOn this journey, as he lay becalmed in the straits of Bonifacio, he\nwrote his immortal hymn, 'Lead, Kindly Light.' He came home assured that\nhe had a work to do. Keble's Assize Sermon on the _National Apostasy_,\npreached in July 1833, on the Sunday after Newman's return to Oxford,\nkindled the conflagration which had been long preparing. Newman\nconceived the idea of the _Tracts for the Times_ as a means of\nexpressing the feelings and propagating the opinions which deeply moved\nhim. 'From the first,' he says, 'my battle was with liberalism. By\nliberalism I mean the anti-dogmatic principle. Secondly, my aim was the\nassertion of the visible Church with sacraments and rites and definite\nreligious teaching on the foundation of dogma; and thirdly, the\nassertion of the Anglican Church as opposed to the Church of Rome.'\nNewman grew greatly in personal influence. His afternoon sermons at St.\nMary's exerted spiritual power. They deserved so to do. Here he was at\nhis best. All of his strength and little of his weakness shows. His\ninsight, his subtility, his pathos, his love of souls, his marvellous\nplay of dramatic as well as of spiritual faculty, are in evidence. Keble\nand Pusey were busying themselves with the historical aspects of the\nquestion. Pusey began the _Library of the Fathers_, the most elaborate\nliterary monument of the movement. Nothing could be more amazing than\nthe uncritical quality of the whole performance. The first check to the\nmovement came in 1838, when the Bishop of Oxford animadverted upon the\n_Tracts_. Newman professed his willingness to stop them. The Bishop did\nnot insist. Newman's own thought moved rapidly onward in the only course\nwhich was still open to it.\n\nNewman had been bred in the deepest reverence for Scripture. In a sense\nthat reverence never left him, though it changed its form. He saw that\nit was absurd to appeal to the Bible in the old way as an infallible\nsource of doctrine. How could truth be infallibly conveyed in defective\nand fallible expressions? Newman's own studies in criticism, by no means\nprofound, led him to this correct conclusion. This was the end for him\nof evangelical Protestantism. The recourse was then to the infallible\nChurch. Infallible guide and authority one must have. Without these\nthere can be no religion. To trust to reason and conscience as conveying\nsomething of the light of God is impossible. To wait in patience and to\nlabour in fortitude for the increase of that light is unendurable. One\nmust have certainty. There can be no certainty by the processes of the\nmind from within. This can come only by miraculous certification from\nwithout.\n\nAccording to Newman the authority of the Church should never have been\nimpaired in the Reformation. Or rather, in his view of that movement,\nthis authority, for truly Christian men, had never been impaired. The\nintellect is aggressive, capricious, untrustworthy. Its action in\nreligious matters is corrosive, dissolving, sceptical. 'Man's energy of\nintellect must be smitten hard and thrown back by infallible authority,\nif religion is to be saved at all.' Newman's philosophy was utterly\nsceptical, although, unlike most absolute philosophical sceptics, he had\na deep religious experience. The most complete secularist, in his\nnegation of religion, does not differ from Newman in his low opinion of\nthe value of the surmises of the mind as to the transcendental meaning\nof life and the world. He differs from Newman only in lacking that which\nto Newman was the most indefeasible thing which he had at all, namely,\nreligious experience. Newman was the child of his age, though no one\never abused more fiercely the age of which he was the child. He supposed\nthat he believed in religion on the basis of authority. Quite the\ncontrary, he believed in religion because he had religion or, as he\nsays, in a magnificent passage in one of his parochial sermons, because\nreligion had him. His scepticism forbade him to recognise that this was\nthe basis of his belief. His diremption of human nature was absolute.\nThe soul was of God. The mind was of the devil. He dare not trust his\nown intellect concerning this inestimable treasure of his experience. He\ndare not trust intellect at all. He knew not whither it might lead him.\nThe mind cannot be broken to the belief of a power above it. It must\nhave its stiff neck bent to recognise its Creator.\n\nHis whole book, _The Grammar of Assent_, 1870, is pervaded by the\nintensest philosophical scepticism. Scepticism supplies its motives,\ndetermines its problems, necessitates its distinctions, rules over the\nsuccession and gradation of its arguments. The whole aim of the work is\nto withdraw religion and the proofs of it, from the region of reason\ninto the realm of conscience and imagination, where the arguments which\nreign may satisfy personal experience without alleging objective\nvalidity or being able to bear the criticism which tests it. Again, he\nis the perverse, unconscious child of the age which he curses. Had not\nKant and Schleiermacher, Coleridge and Channing sought, does not Ritschl\nseek, to remove religion from the realm of metaphysics and to bring it\nwithin the realm of experience? They had, however, pursued the same end\nby different means. One is reminded of that saying of Gretchen\nconcerning Mephistopheles: 'He says the same thing with the pastor, only\nin different words.' Newman says the same words, but means a different\nthing.\n\nAssuming the reduction of religion to experience, in which Kant and\nSchleiermacher would have agreed, and asserting the worthlessness of\nmentality, which they would have denied, we are not surprised to hear\nNewman say that without Catholicism doubt is invincible. 'The Church's\ninfallibility is the provision adopted by the mercy of the Creator to\npreserve religion in the world. Outside the Catholic Church all things\ntend to atheism. The Catholic Church is the one face to face antagonist,\nable to withstand and baffle the fierce energy of passion and the\nall-dissolving scepticism of the mind. I am a Catholic by virtue of my\nbelief in God. If I should be asked why I believe in God, I should\nanswer, because I believe in myself. I find it impossible to believe in\nmyself, without believing also in the existence of him who lives as a\npersonal, all-seeing, all-judging being in my conscience.' These\npassages are mainly taken from the _Apologia_, written long after Newman\nhad gone over to the Roman Church. They perfectly describe the attitude\nof his mind toward the Anglican Church, so long as he believed this, and\nnot the Roman, to be the true Church. He had once thought that a man\ncould hold a position midway between the Protestantism which he\nrepudiated and the Romanism which he still resisted. He stayed in the\n_via media_ so long as he could. But in 1839 he began to have doubts\nabout the Anglican order of succession. The catholicity of Rome began to\novershadow the apostolicity of Anglicanism. The Anglican formularies\ncannot be at variance with the teachings of the authoritative and\nuniversal Church. This is the problem which the last of the _Tracts_,\n_Tract Ninety_, sets itself. It is one of those which Newman wrote. One\nmust find the sense of the Roman Church in the Thirty-Nine Articles.\nThis tract is prefaced by an extraordinary disquisition upon reserve in\nthe communication of religious knowledge. God's revelations of himself\nto mankind have always been a kind of veil. Truth is the reward of\nholiness. The Fathers were holy men. Therefore what the Fathers said\nmust be true. The principle of reserve the Articles illustrate. They do\nnot mean what they say. They were written in an uncatholic age, that is,\nin the age of the Reformation. They were written by Catholic men. Else\nhow can the Church of England be now a Catholic Church? Through their\nreserve they were acceptable in an uncatholic age. They cannot be\nuncatholic in spirit, else how should they be identical in meaning with\nthe great Catholic creeds? Then follows an exposition of every important\narticle of the thirty-nine, an effort to interpret each in the sense of\nthe Roman Catholic Church of to-day. Four tutors published a protest\nagainst the tract. Formal censure was passed upon it. It was now evident\nto Newman that his place in the leadership of the Oxford Movement was\ngone. From this time, the spring of 1841, he says he was on his deathbed\nas regards the Church of England. He withdrew to Littlemore and\nestablished a brotherhood there. In the autumn of 1843 he resigned the\nparochial charge of St. Mary's at Oxford. On the 9th of October 1845 he\nwas formally admitted to the Roman Church. On the 6th of October Ernest\nRenan had formally severed his connexion with that Church.\n\nIt is a strange thing that in his _Essay on the Development of Christian\nDoctrine_, written in 1845, Newman himself should have advanced\nsubstantially Hampden's contention. Here are written many things\nconcerning the development of doctrine which commend themselves to minds\nconversant with the application of historical criticism to the whole\ndogmatic structure of the Christian ages. The purpose is with Newman\nentirely polemical, the issue exactly that which one would not have\nforeseen. Precisely because the development of doctrine is so obvious,\nbecause no historical point can be found at which the growth of doctrine\nceased and the rule of faith was once for all settled, therefore an\ninfallible authority outside of the development must have existed from\nthe beginning, to provide a means of distinguishing true development\nfrom false. This infallible guide is, of course, the Church. It seems\nincredible that Newman could escape applying to the Church the same\nargument which he had so skilfully applied to Scripture and dogmatic\nhistory. Similar is the case with the argument of the _Grammar of\nAssent_. 'No man is certain of a truth who can endure the thought of its\ncontrary.' If the reason why I cannot endure the thought of the\ncontradictory of a belief which I have made my own, is that so to think\nbrings me pain and darkness, this does not prove my truth. If my belief\never had its origin in reason, it must be ever refutable by reason. It\nis not corroborated by the fact that I do not wish to see anything that\nwould refute it.[8] This last fact may be in the highest degree an act\nof arbitrariness. To make the impossibility of thinking the opposite,\nthe test of truth, and then to shut one's eyes to those evidences which\nmight compel one to think the opposite, is the essence of irrationality.\nOne attains by this method indefinite assertiveness, but not certainty.\nNewman lived in some seclusion in the Oratory of St. Philip Neri in\nBirmingham for many years. A few distinguished men, and a number of his\nfollowers, in all not more than a hundred and fifty, went over to the\nRoman Church after him. The defection was never so great as, in the\nfirst shock, it was supposed that it would be. The outward influence of\nNewman upon the Anglican Church then ceased. But the ideas which he put\nforth have certainly been of great influence in that Church to this day.\nMost men know the portrait of the great cardinal, the wide forehead,\nploughed deep with horizontal furrows, the pale cheek, down which 'long\nlines of shadow slope, which years and anxious thought and suffering\ngive.' One looks into the wonderful face of those last days--Newman\nlived to his ninetieth year--and wonders if he found in the infallible\nChurch the peace which he so earnestly sought.\n\n[Footnote 8: Fairbairn, _Catholicism, Roman and Anglican_, p. 157.]\n\n\nMODERNISM\n\n\nIt was said that the Oxford Movement furnished the rationale of the\nreaction. Many causes, of course, combine to make the situation of the\nRoman Church and the status of religion in the Latin countries of the\nContinent the lamentable one that it is. That position is worst in those\ncountries where the Roman Church has most nearly had free play. The\nalienation both of the intellectual and civil life from organised\nreligion is grave. That the Roman Church occupies in England to-day a\nposition more favourable than in almost any nation on the Continent, and\nbetter than it occupied in England at the beginning of the nineteenth\ncentury, is due in large measure to the general influence of the\nmovement with which we have been dealing. The Anglican Church was at the\nbeginning of the nineteenth century preponderantly evangelical,\nlow-church and conscious of itself as Protestant. At the beginning of\nthe twentieth it is dominantly ritualistic and disposed to minimise its\nrelation to the Reformation. This resurgence of Catholic principles is\nanother effect of the movement of which we speak. Other factors must\nhave wrought for this result besides the body of arguments which Newman\nand his compeers offered. The argument itself, the mere intellectual\nfactor, is not adequate. There is an inherent contradiction in the\neffort to ground in reason an authority which is to take the place of\nreason. Yet round and round this circle all the labours of John Henry\nNewman go. Cardinal Manning felt this. The victory of the Church was not\nto be won by argument. It is well known that Newman opposed the decree\nof infallibility. It cannot be said that upon this point his arguments\nhad great weight. If one assumes that truth comes to us externally\nthrough representatives of God, and if the truth is that which they\nassert, then in the last analysis what they assert is truth. If one has\ngiven in to such authority because one distrusts his reason, then it is\nquerulous to complain that the deliverances of authority do not comport\nwith reason. There may be, of course, the greatest interest in the\nstruggle as to the instance in which this authority is to be lodged.\nThis interest attaches to the age-long struggle between Pope and\nCouncil. It attaches to the dramatic struggle of Doellinger, Dupanloup,\nLord Acton and the rest, in 1870. Once the Church has spoken there is,\nfor the advocate of authoritative religion, no logic but to submit.\n\nSimilarly as to the _Encyclical_ and _Syllabus of Errors_ of 1864, which\nforecast the present conflict concerning Modernism. The _Syllabus_ had a\ndifferent atmosphere from that which any Englishman in the sixties would\nhave given it. Had not Newman, however, made passionate warfare on the\nliberalism of the modern world? Was it not merely a question of degrees?\nWas Gladstone's attitude intelligible? The contrast of two principles in\nlife and religion, the principles of authority and of the spirit, is\nbeing brought home to men's consciousness as it has never been before.\nOne reads _Il Santo_ and learns concerning the death of Fogazzaro, one\nlooks into the literature relating to Tyrrell, one sees the fate of\nLoisy, comparing the really majestic achievement in his works and the\nspirit of his _Simple Reflections_ with the _Encyclical Pascendi_, 1907.\nOne understands why these men have done what they could to remain within\nthe Roman Church. One recalls the attitude of Doellinger to the\ninauguration of the Old Catholic Movement, reflects upon the relative\nfutility of the Old Catholic Church, and upon the position of Hyacinthe\nLoyson. One appreciates the feeling of these men that it is impossible,\nfrom without, to influence as they would the Church which they have\nloved. The present difficulty of influencing it from within seems almost\ninsuperable. The history of Modernism as an effective contention in the\nworld of Christian thought seems scarcely begun. The opposition to\nModernism is not yet a part of the history of thought.\n\n\nROBERTSON\n\n\nIn no life are reflected more perfectly the spiritual conflicts of the\nfifth decade of the nineteenth century than in that of Frederick W.\nRobertson. No mind worked itself more triumphantly out of these\ndifficulties. Descended from a family of Scottish soldiers, evangelical\nin piety, a student in Oxford in 1837, repelled by the Oxford Movement,\nhe undertook his ministry under a morbid sense of responsibility. He\nreacted violently against his evangelicalism. He travelled abroad, read\nenormously, was plunged into an agony which threatened mentally to undo\nhim. He took his charge at Brighton in 1847, still only thirty-one years\nold, and at once shone forth in the splendour of his genius. A martyr to\ndisease and petty persecution, dying at thirty-seven, he yet left the\nimpress of one of the greatest preachers whom the Church of England has\nproduced. He left no formal literary work such as he had designed. Of\nhis sermons we have almost none from his own manuscripts. Yet his\ninfluence is to-day almost as intense as when the sermons were\ndelivered. It is, before all, the wealth and depth of his thought, the\nreality of the content of the sermons, which commands admiration. They\nare a classic refutation of the remark that one cannot preach theology.\nOut of them, even in their fragmentary state, a well-articulated system\nmight be made. He brought to his age the living message of a man upon\nwhom the best light of his age had shone.\n\n\nPHILLIPS BROOKS\n\n\nSomething of the same sort may be said concerning Phillips Brooks. He\ninherited on his father's side the sober rationalism and the humane and\nsecular interest of the earlier Unitarianism, on his mother's side the\nintensity of evangelical pietism with the Calvinistic form of thought.\nThe conflict of these opposing tendencies in New England was at that\ntime so great that Brooks's parents sought refuge with the low-church\nelement in the Episcopal Church. Brooks's education at Harvard College,\nwhere he took his degree in 1855, as also at Alexandria, and still more,\nhis reading and experience, made him sympathetic with that which, in\nEngland in those years, was called the Broad Church party. He was deeply\ninfluenced by Campbell and Maurice. Later well known in England, he was\nthe compeer of the best spirits of his generation there. Deepened by the\nexperience of the great war, he held in succession two pulpits of large\ninfluence, dying as Bishop of Massachusetts in 1893. There is a\ntheological note about his preaching, as in the case of Robertson. Often\nit is the same note. Brooks had passed through no such crisis as had\nRobertson. He had flowered into the greatness of rational belief. His\nsermons are a contribution to the thinking of his age. We have much\nfinished material of this kind from his own hand, and a book or two\nbesides. His service through many years as preacher to his university\nwas of inestimable worth. The presentation of ever-advancing thought to\na great public constituency is one of the most difficult of tasks. It is\nalso one of the most necessary. The fusion of such thoughtfulness with\nspiritual impulse has rarely been more perfectly achieved than in the\npreaching of Phillips Brooks.\n\n\nTHE BROAD CHURCH\n\n\nWe have used the phrase, the Broad Church party. Stanley had employed\nthe adjective to describe the real character of the English Church, over\nagainst the antithesis of the Low Church and the High. The designation\nadhered to a group of which Stanley was himself a type. They were not\nbound together in a party. They had no ecclesiastical end in view. They\nwere of a common spirit. It was not the spirit of evangelicalism. Still\nless was it that of the Tractarians. It was that which Robertson had\nmanifested. It aimed to hold the faith with an open mind in all the\nintellectual movement of the age. Maurice should be enumerated here,\nwith reservations. Kingsley beyond question belonged to this group.\nThere was great ardour among them for the improvement of social\nconditions, a sense of the social mission of Christianity. There grew up\nwhat was called a Christian Socialist movement, which, however, never\nattained or sought a political standing. The Broad Church movement\nseemed, at one time, assured of ascendancy in the Church of England. Its\naims appeared congruous with the spirit of the times. Yet Dean Fremantle\nesteems himself perhaps the last survivor of an illustrious company.\n\nThe men who in 1860 published the volume known as _Essays and Reviews_\nwould be classed with the Broad Church. In its authorship were\nassociated seven scholars, mostly Oxford men. Some one described _Essays\nand Reviews_ as the _Tract Ninety_ of the Broad Church. It stirred\npublic sentiment and brought the authors into conflict with authority in\na somewhat similar way. The living antagonism of the Broad Church was\nsurely with the Tractarians rather than with the evangelicals. Yet the\nmost significant of the essays, those on miracles and on prophecy,\ntouched opinions common to both these groups. Jowett, later Master of\nBalliol, contributed an essay on the 'Interpretation of Scripture.' It\nhardly belongs to Jowett's best work. Yet the controversy then\nprecipitated may have had to do with Jowett's adherence to Platonic\nstudies instead of his devoting himself to theology. The most decisive\nof the papers was that of Baden Powell on the 'Study of the Evidences of\nChristianity.' It was mainly a discussion of the miracle. It was radical\nand conclusive. The essay closes with an allusion to Darwin's _Origin of\nSpecies_, which had then just appeared. Baden Powell died shortly after\nits publication. The fight came on Rowland Williams's paper upon\nBunson's _Biblical Researches_. It was really upon the prophecies and\ntheir use in 'Christian Evidences.' Baron Bunsen was not a great\narchaeologist, but he brought to the attention of English readers that\nwhich was being done in Germany in this field. Williams used the\narchaeological material to rectify the current theological notions\nconcerning ancient history. A certain type of English mind has always\nshown zeal for the interpretation of prophecy. Williams's thesis,\nbriefly put, was this: the Bible does not always give the history of the\npast with accuracy; it does not give the history of the future at all;\nprophecy means spiritual teaching, not secular prognostication. A reader\nof our day may naturally feel that Wilson, with his paper on the\n'National Church,' made the greatest contribution. He built indeed upon\nColeridge, but he had a larger horizon. He knew the arguments of the\ngreat Frenchmen of his day and of their English imitators who, in Benn's\nphrase, narrowed and perverted the ideal of a world-wide humanity into\nthat of a Church founded on dogmas and administered by clericals. Wilson\nargued that in Jesus' teaching the basis of the religious community is\nethical. The Church is but the instrument for carrying out the will of\nGod as manifest in the moral law. The realisation of the will of God\nmust extend beyond the limits of the Church's activity, however widely\nthese are drawn. There arose a violent agitation. Williams and Wilson\nwere prosecuted. The case was tried in the Court of Arches. Williams was\ndefended by no less a person than Fitzjames Stephen. The two divines\nwere sentenced to a year's suspension. This decision was reversed by the\nLord Chancellor. Fitzjames Stephen had argued that if the men most\ninterested in the church, namely, its clergy, are the only men who\nmay be punished for serious discussion of the facts and truths of\nreligion, then respect on the part of the world for the Church is at an\nend. By this discussion the English clergy, even if Anglo-Catholic, are\nin a very different position from the Roman priests, over whom\nencyclicals, even if not executed, are always suspended.\n\nSimilar was the issue in the case of Colenso, Bishop of Natal. Equipped\nmainly with Cambridge mathematics added to purest self-devotion, he had\nbeen sent out as a missionary bishop. In the process of the translation\nof the Pentateuch for his Zulus, he had come to reflect upon the problem\nwhich the Old Testament presents. In a manner which is altogether\nmarvellous he worked out critical conclusions parallel to those of Old\nTestament scholars on the Continent. He was never really an expert, but\nin his main contention he was right. He adhered to his opinion despite\nsevere pressure and was not removed from the episcopate. With such\nguarantees it would be strange indeed if we could not say that biblical\nstudies entered in Great Britain, as also in America, on a development\nin which scholars of these nations are not behind the best scholars of\nthe world. The trials for heresy of Robertson Smith in Edinburgh and of\nDr. Briggs in New York have now little living interest. Yet biblical\nstudies in Scotland and America were incalculably furthered by those\ndiscussions. The publication of a book like _Supernatural Religion_,\n1872, illustrates a proclivity not uncommon in self-conscious liberal\ncircles, for taking up a contention just when those who made it and have\nlived with it have decided to lay it down. However, the names of Hatch\nand Lightfoot alone, not to mention the living, are sufficient to\nwarrant the assertions above made.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMore than once in these chapters we have spoken of the service rendered\nto the progress of Christian thought by the criticism and interpretation\nof religion at the hands of literary men. That country and age may be\nesteemed fortunate in which religion occupies a place such that it\ncompels the attention of men of genius. In the history of culture this\nhas by no means always been the case. That these men do not always speak\nthe language of edification is of minor consequence. What is of infinite\nworth is that the largest minds of the generation shall engage\nthemselves with the topic of religion. A history of thought concerning\nChristianity cannot but reckon with the opinions, for example, of\nCarlyle, of Emerson, of Matthew Arnold--to mention only types.\n\n\nCARLYLE\n\n\nCarlyle has pictured for us his early home at Ecclefechan on the Border;\nhis father, a stone mason of the highest character; his mother with her\nfrugal, pious ways; the minister, from whom he learned Latin, 'the\npriestliest man I ever beheld in any ecclesiastical guise.' The picture\nof his mother never faded from his memory. Carlyle was destined for the\nChurch. Such had been his mother's prayer. He took his arts course in\nEdinburgh. In the university, he says, 'there was much talk about\nprogress of the species, dark ages, and the like, but the hungry young\nlooked to their spiritual nurses and were bidden to eat the east wind.'\nHe entered Divinity Hall, but already, in 1816, prohibitive doubts had\narisen in his mind. Irving sought to help him. Irving was not the man\nfor the task. The Christianity of the Church had become intellectually\nincredible to Carlyle. For a time he was acutely miserable, bordering\nupon despair. He has described his spiritual deliverance: 'Precisely\nthat befel me which the Methodists call their conversion, the\ndeliverance of their souls from the devil and the pit. There burst forth\na sacred flame of joy in me.' With _Sartor Resartus_ his message to the\nworld began. It was printed in _Fraser's Magazine_ in 1833, but not\npublished separately until 1838. His difficulty in finding a publisher\nembittered him. Style had something to do with this, the newness of his\nmessage had more. Then for twenty years he poured forth his message.\nNever did a man carry such a pair of eyes into the great world of London\nor set a more peremptory mark upon its notabilities. His best work was\ndone before 1851. His later years were darkened with much misery of\nbody. No one can allege that he ever had a happy mind.\n\nHe was a true prophet, but, Elijah-like, he seemed to himself to be\nalone. His derision of the current religion seems sometimes needless.\nYet even that has the grand note of sincerity. What he desired he in no\nsmall measure achieved--that his readers should be arrested and feel\nthemselves face to face with reality. His startling intuition, his\nintellectual uprightness, his grasp upon things as they are, his passion\nfor what ought to be, made a great impression upon his age. It was in\nitself a religious influence. Here was a mind of giant force, of\nsternest truthfulness. His untruths were those of exaggeration. His\ninjustices were those of prejudice. He invested many questions of a\nsocial and moral, of a political and religious sort with a nobler\nmeaning than they had had before. His _French Revolution_, his papers on\n_Chartism_, his unceasing comment on the troubled life of the years from\n1830 to 1865, are of highest moment for our understanding of the growth\nof that social feeling in the midst of which we live and work. In his\nbrooding sympathy with the downtrodden he was a great inaugurator of the\nsocial movement. He felt the curse of an aristocratic society, yet no\none has told us with more drastic truthfulness the evils of our\ndemocratic institutions. His word was a great corrective for much\n'rose-water' optimism which prevailed in his day. The note of hope is,\nhowever, often lacking. The mythology of an absentee God had faded from\nhim. Yet the God who was clear to his mature consciousness, clear as the\nsun in the heavens, was a God over the world, to judge it inexorably.\nAgain, it is not difficult to accumulate evidence in his words which\nlooks toward pantheism; but what one may call the religious benefit of\npantheism, the sense that God is in his world, Carlyle often loses.\n\nMaterialism is to-day so deeply discredited that we find it difficult to\nrealise that sixty years ago the problem wore a different look. Carlyle\nwas never weary of pouring out the vials of his contempt on\n'mud-philosophies' and exalting the spirit as against matter. Never was\na man more opposed to the idea of a godless world, in which man is his\nown chief end, and his sensual pleasures the main aims of his existence.\nHis insight into the consequences of our commercialism and luxury and\nabsorption in the outward never fails. Man is God's son, but the effort\nto realise that sonship in the joy and trust of a devout heart and in\nthe humble round of daily life sometimes seems to him cant or\nsuperstition. The humble life of godliness made an unspeakable appeal to\nhim. He had known those who lived that life. His love for them was\nimperishable. Yet he had so recoiled from the superstitions and\nhypocrisies of others, the Eternal in his majesty was so ineffable, all\neffort to approach him so unworthy, that almost instinctively he would\ncall upon the man who made the effort, to desist. So magnificent, all\nhis life long, had been his protest against the credulity and stupidity\nof men, against beliefs which assert the impossible and blink the facts,\nthat, for himself, the great objects of faith were held fast to, so to\nsay, in their naked verity, with a giant's strength. They were\nhalf-querulously denied all garment and embodiment, lest he also should\nbe found credulous and self-deceived. From this titan labouring at the\nfoundations of the world, this Samson pulling down temples of the\nPhilistines on his head, this cyclops heaving hills at ships as they\npass by, it seems a long way to Emerson. Yet Emerson was Carlyle's\nfriend.\n\n\nEMERSON\n\n\nArnold said in one of his American addresses: 'Besides these\nvoices--Newman, Carlyle, Goethe--there came to us in the Oxford of my\nyouth a voice also from this side of the Atlantic, a clear and pure\nvoice which, for my ear at any rate, brought a strain as new and moving\nand unforgetable as those others. Lowell has described the apparition of\nEmerson to your young generation here. He was your Newman, your man of\nsoul and genius, speaking to your bodily ears, a present object for your\nheart and imagination.' Then he quotes as one of the most memorable\npassages in English speech: 'Trust thyself. Accept the place which the\ndivine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries,\nthe connection of events. Great men have always done so, confiding\nthemselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying a perception\nwhich was stirring in their hearts, working through their hands,\ndominating their whole being.' Arnold speaks of Carlyle's grim\ninsistence upon labour and righteousness but of his scorn of happiness,\nand then says: 'But Emerson taught happiness in labour, in righteousness\nand veracity. In all the life of the spirit, happiness and eternal hope,\nthat was Emerson's gospel. By his conviction that in the life of the\nspirit is happiness, by his hope and expectation that this life of the\nspirit will more and more be understood and will prevail, by this\nEmerson was great.'\n\nSeven of Emerson's ancestors were ministers of New England churches. He\ninherited qualities of self-reliance, love of liberty, strenuous virtue,\nsincerity, sobriety and fearless loyalty to ideals. The form of his\nideals was modified by the glow of transcendentalism which passed over\nparts of New England in the second quarter of the nineteenth century,\nbut the spirit in which Emerson conceived the laws of life, reverenced\nthem and lived them, was the Puritan spirit, only elevated, enlarged and\nbeautified by the poetic temperament. Taking his degree from Harvard in\n1821, despising school teaching, stirred by the passion for spiritual\nleadership, the ministry seemed to offer the fairest field for its\nsatisfaction. In 1825 he entered the Divinity School in Harvard to\nprepare himself for the Unitarian ministry. In 1829 he became associate\nminister of the Second Unitarian Church in Boston. He arrived at the\nconviction that the Lord's Supper was not intended by Jesus to be a\npermanent sacrament. He found his congregation, not unnaturally,\nreluctant to agree with him. He therefore retired from the pastoral\noffice. He was always a preacher, though of a singular order. His task\nwas to befriend and guide the inner life of man. The influences of this\nperiod in his life have been enumerated as the liberating philosophy of\nColeridge, the mystical vision of Swedenborg, the intimate poetry of\nWordsworth, the stimulating essays of Carlyle. His address before the\ngraduating class of the Divinity School at Cambridge in 1838 was an\nimpassioned protest against what he called the defects of historical\nChristianity, its undue reliance upon the personal authority of Jesus,\nits failure to explore the moral nature of man. He made a daring plea\nfor absolute self-reliance and new inspiration in religion: 'In the soul\nlet redemption be sought. Refuse the good models, even those which are\nsacred in the imagination of men. Cast conformity behind you. Acquaint\nmen at first hand with deity.' He never could have been the power he was\nby the force of his negations. His power lay in the wealth, the variety,\nthe beauty and insight with which he set forth the positive side of his\ndoctrine of the greatness of man, of the presence of God in man, of the\ndivineness of life, of God's judgment and mercy in the order of the\nworld. One sees both the power and the limitation of Emerson's religious\nteaching. At the root of it lay a real philosophy. He could not\nphilosophise. He was always passing from the principle to its\napplication. He could not systematise. He speaks of his 'formidable\ntendency to the lapidary style.' Granting that one finds his philosophy\nin fragments, just as one finds his interpretation of religion in\nflashes of marvellous insight, both are worth searching for, and either,\nin Coleridge's phrase, finds us, whether we search for it or not.\n\n\nARNOLD\n\n\nWhat shall we say of Matthew Arnold himself? Without doubt the twenty\nyears by which Arnold was Newman's junior at Oxford made a great\ndifference in the intellectual atmosphere of that place, and of the\nEnglish world of letters, at the time when Arnold's mind was maturing.\nHe was not too late to feel the spell of Newman. His mind was hardly one\nto appreciate the whole force of that spell. He was at Oxford too early\nfor the full understanding of the limits within which alone the\nscientific conception of the world can be said to be true. Arnold often\nboasted that he was no metaphysician. He really need never have\nmentioned the fact. The assumption that whatever is true can be verified\nin the sense of the precise kind of verification which science implies\nis a very serious mistake. Yet his whole intellectual strength was\ndevoted to the sustaining, one cannot say exactly the cause of religion,\nbut certainly that of noble conduct, and to the assertion of the elation\nof duty and the joy of righteousness. With all the scorn that Arnold\npours upon the trust which we place in God's love, he yet holds to the\nconviction that 'the power without ourselves which makes for\nrighteousness' is one upon which we may in rapture rely.\n\nArnold had convinced himself that in an ago such as ours, which will\ntake nothing for granted, but must verify everything, Christianity, in\nthe old form of authoritative belief in supernatural beings and\nmiraculous events, is no longer tenable. We must confine ourselves to\nsuch ethical truths as can be verified by experience. We must reject\neverything which goes beyond these. Religion has no more to do with\nsupernatural dogma than with metaphysical philosophy. It has nothing to\ndo with either. It has to do with conduct. It is folly to make religion\ndepend upon the conviction of the existence of an intelligent and moral\ngovernor of the universe, as the theologians have done. For the object\nof faith in the ethical sense Arnold coined the phrase: 'The Eternal not\nourselves which makes for righteousness.' So soon as we go beyond this,\nwe enter upon the region of fanciful anthropomorphism, of extra belief,\n_aberglaube_, which always revenges itself. These are the main\ncontentions of his book, _Literature and Dogma_, 1875.\n\nOne feels the value of Arnold's recall to the sense of the literary\ncharacter of the Scriptural documents, as urged in his book, _Saint Paul\nand Protestantism_, 1870, and again to the sense of the influence which\nthe imagination of mankind has had upon religion. One feels the truth of\nhis assertion of our ignorance. One feels Arnold's own deep earnestness.\nIt was his concern that reason and the will of God should prevail.\nThough he was primarily a literary man, yet his great interest was in\nreligion. One feels so sincerely that his main conclusion is sound, that\nit is the more trying that his statement of it should be often so\nperverse and his method of sustaining it so precarious. It is quite\ncertain that the idea of the Eternal not ourselves which makes for\nrighteousness is far from being the clear idea which Arnold claims. It\nis far from being an idea derived from experience or verifiable in\nexperience, in the sense which he asserts. It seems positively\nincredible that Arnold did not know that with this conception he passed\nthe boundary of the realm of science and entered the realm of\nmetaphysics, which he so abhorred.\n\nHe was the eldest son of Thomas Arnold of Rugby. He was educated at\nWinchester and Rugby and at Balliol College. He was Professor of Poetry\nin Oxford from 1857 to 1867. He was an inspector of schools. The years\nof his best literary labour were much taken up in ways which were\nwasteful of his rare powers. He came by literary intuition to an idea of\nScripture which others had built up from the point of view of a theory\nof knowledge and by investigation of the facts. He is the helpless\npersonification of a view of the relation of science and religion which\nhas absolutely passed away. Yet Arnold died only in 1888. How much a\ndistinguished inheritance may mean is gathered from the fact that a\ngrand-daughter of Thomas Arnold and niece of Matthew Arnold, Mrs.\nHumphry Ward, in her novels, has dealt largely with problems of\nreligious life, and more particularly of religious thoughtfulness. She\nhas done for her generation, in her measure, that which George Eliot did\nfor hers.\n\n\nMARTINEAU\n\nAs the chapter and the book draw to their close we can think of no man\nwhose life more nearly spanned the century, or whose work touched more\nfruitfully almost every aspect of Christian thoughtfulness than did that\nof James Martineau. We can think of no man who gathered into himself\nmore fully the significant theological tendencies of the age, or whose\nutterance entitles him to be listened to more reverently as seer and\nsaint. He was born in 1805. He was bred as an engineer. He fulfilled for\nyears the calling of minister and preacher. He gradually exchanged this\nfor the activity of a professor. He was a religious philosopher in the\nold sense, but he was also a critic and historian. His position with\nreference to the New Testament was partly antiquated before his _Seat of\nAuthority in Religion_, 1890, made its appearance. Evolutionism never\nbecame with him a coherent and consistent assumption. Ethics never\naltogether got rid of the innate ideas. The social movement left him\nalmost untouched. Yet, despite all this, he was in some sense a\nrepresentative progressive theologian of the century.\n\nThere is a parallel between Newman and Martineau. Both busied themselves\nwith the problem of authority. Criticism had been fatal to the\napprehension which both had inherited concerning the authority of\nScripture. From that point onward they took divergent courses. The\narguments which touched the infallible and oracular authority of\nScripture, for Newman established that of the Church; for Martineau they\nhad destroyed that of the Church four hundred years ago. Martineau's\nsense, even of the authority of Jesus, reverent as it is, is yet no\npietistic and mystical view. The authority of Jesus is that of the truth\nwhich he speaks, of the goodness which dwells in him, of God himself and\nGod alone. A real interest in the sciences and true learning in some of\nthem made Martineau able to write that wonderful chapter in his _Seat of\nAuthority_, which he entitled 'God in Nature.' Newman could see in\nnature, at most a sacramental suggestion, a symbol of transcendental\ntruth.\n\nThe Martineaus came of old Huguenot stock, which in England belonged to\nthe liberal Presbyterianism out of which much of British Unitarianism\ncame. The righteousness of a persecuted race had left an austere impress\nupon their domestic and social life. Intellectually they inherited the\nadvanced liberalism of their day. Harriet Martineau's earlier piety had\nbeen of the most fervent sort. She reacted violently against it in later\nyears. She had little of the politic temper and gentleness of her\nbrother. She described one of her own later works as the last word of\nphilosophic atheism. James was, and always remained, of deepest\nsensitiveness and reverence and of a gentleness which stood in high\ncontrast with his powers of conflict, if necessity arose. Out of\nMartineau's years as preacher in Liverpool and London came two books of\nrare devotional quality, _Endeavours after the Christian Life_, 1843 and\n1847, and _Hours of Thought on Sacred Things_, 1873 and 1879. Almost all\nhis life he was identified with Manchester College, as a student when\nthe college was located at York, as a teacher when it returned to\nManchester and again when it was removed to London. With its removal to\nOxford, accomplished in 1889, he had not fully sympathised. He believed\nthat the university itself must some day do justice to the education of\nmen for the ministry in other churches than the Anglican. He was eighty\nyears old when he published his _Types of Ethical Theory_, eighty-two\nwhen he gave to the world his _Study of Religion_, eighty-five when his\n_Seat of Authority_ saw the light. The effect of this postponement of\npublication was not wholly good. The books represented marvellous\nlearning and ripeness of reflection. But they belong to a period\nanterior to the dates they bear upon their title-pages. Martineau's\neducation and his early professional experience put him in touch with\nthe advancing sciences. In the days when most men of progressive spirit\nwere carried off their feet, when materialism was flaunted in men's\nfaces and the defence of religion was largely in the hands of those who\nknew nothing of the sciences, Martineau was not moved. He saw the end\nfrom the beginning. There is nothing finer in his latest work than his\nearly essays--'Nature and God,' 'Science, Nescience and Faith,' and\n'Religion as affected by Modern Materialism.' He died in 1900 in his\nninety-fifth year.\n\nIt is difficult to speak of the living in these pages. Personal\nrelations enforce reserve and brevity. Nevertheless, no one can think of\nManchester College and Martineau without being reminded of Mansfield\nCollege and of Fairbairn, a Scotchman, but of the Independent Church. He\nalso was both teacher and preacher all his days, leader of the movement\nwhich brought Mansfield College from Birmingham to Oxford, by the\nconfession both of Anglicans and of Non-conformists the most learned man\nin his subjects in the Oxford of his time, an historian, touched by the\nsocial enthusiasm, but a religious philosopher, _par excellence_. His\n_Religion and Modern Life_, 1894, his _Catholicism, Roman and Anglican_,\n1899, his _Place of Christ in Modern Theology_, 1893, his _Philosophy of\nthe Christian Religion_, 1902, and his _Studies in Religion and\nTheology_, 1910, indicate the wideness of his sympathies and the scope\nof the application, of his powers. If imitation is homage, grateful\nacknowledgment is here made of rich spoil taken from his books.\n\nPhilosophy took a new turn in Britain after the middle of the decade of\nthe sixties. It began to be conceded that Locke and Hume were dead. Had\nMill really appreciated that fact he might have been a philosopher more\nfruitful and influential than he was. Sir William Hamilton was dead.\nMansel's endeavour, out of agnosticism to conjure the most absurdly\npositivistic faith, had left thinking men more exposed to scepticism, if\npossible, than they had been before. When Hegel was thought in Germany\nto be obsolete, and everywhere the cry was 'back to Kant,' some Scotch\nand English scholars, the two Cairds and Seth Pringle-Pattison, with\nThomas Hill Green, made a modified Hegelianism current in Great Britain.\nThey led by this path in the introduction of their countrymen to later\nGerman idealism. By this introduction philosophy in both Britain and\nAmerica has greatly gained. Despite these facts, John Caird's\n_Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion_, 1880, is still only a\nreligious philosophy. It is not a philosophy of religion. His\n_Fundamental Ideas of Christianity_, 1896, hardly escapes the old\nantitheses among which theological discussion moved, say, thirty years\nago. Edward Caird's _Critical Philosophy of Kant_, 1889, and especially\nhis _Evolution of Religion_, 1892, marked the coming change more\ndefinitely than did any of the labours of his brother. Thomas Hill Green\ngave great promise in his _Introduction to Hume_, 1885, his _Prolegomena\nto Ethics_, 1883, and still more in essays and papers scattered through\nthe volumes edited by Nettleship after Green's death. His contribution\nto religious discussion was such as to make his untimely end to be\ndeeply deplored. Seth Pringle-Pattison's early work, _The Development\nfrom Kant to Hegel_, 1881, still has great worth. His _Hegelianism and\nPersonality_, 1893, deals with one aspect of the topic which needs ever\nagain to be explored, because of the psychological basis which in\nreligious discussion is now assumed.\n\n\nJAMES\n\n\nThe greatest contribution of America to religious discussion in recent\nyears is surely William James's _Varieties of Religious Experience_,\n1902. The book is unreservedly acknowledged in Britain, and in Germany\nas well, to be the best which we yet have upon the psychology of\nreligion. Not only so, it gives a new intimation as to what psychology\nof religion means. It blazes a path along which investigators are\neagerly following. Boyce, in his Phi Beta Kappa address at Harvard in\n1911, declared James to be the third representative philosopher whom\nAmerica has produced. He had the form of philosophy as Emerson never\nhad. He could realise whither he was going, as Emerson in his\nintuitiveness never did. He criticised the dominant monism in most\npregnant way. He recurred to the problems which dualism owned but could\nnot solve. We cannot call the new scheme dualism. The world does not go\nback. Yet James made an over-confident generation feel that the\ncenturies to which dualism had seemed reasonable were not so completely\nwithout intelligence as has been supposed by some. No philosophy may\nclaim completeness as an interpretation of the universe. No more\nconclusive proof of this judgment could be asked than is given quite\nunintentionally in Haeckel's _Weltrathsel_.\n\nAt no point is this recall more earnest than in James's dealing with the\nantithesis of good and evil. The reaction of the mind of the race, and\nprimarily of individuals, upon the fact of evil, men's consciousness of\nevil in themselves, their desire to be rid of it, their belief that\nthere is a deliverance from it and that they have found that\ndeliverance, is for James the point of departure for the study of the\nactual phenomena and the active principle of religion. The truest\npsychological and philosophical instinct of the ago thus sets the\nexperience of conversion in the centre of discussion. Apparently most\nmen have, at some time and in some way, the consciousness of a capacity\nfor God which is unfulfilled, of a relation to God unrealised, which is\nbroken and resumed, or yet to be resumed. They have the sense that their\nown effort must contribute to this recovery. They have the sense also\nthat something without themselves empowers them to attempt this recovery\nand to persevere in the attempt. The psychology of religion is thus put\nin the forefront. The vast masses of material of this sort which the\nreligious world, both past and present, possesses, have been either\nactually unexplored, or else set forth in ways which distorted and\nobscured the facts. The experience is the fact. The best science the\nworld knows is now to deal with it as it would deal with any other fact.\nThis is the epoch-making thing, the contribution to method in James's\nbook. James was born in New York in 1842, the son of a Swedenborgian\ntheologian. He took his medical degree at Harvard in 1870. He began to\nlecture there in anatomy in 1872 and became Professor of Philosophy in\n1885. He was a Gifford and a Hibbert Lecturer. He died in 1910.\n\nWhen James's thesis shall have been fully worked out, much supposed\ninvestigation of primitive religions, which is really nothing but\nimagination concerning primitive religions, will be shown in its true\nworthlessness. We know very little about primitive man. What we learn as\nto primitive man, on the side of his religion, we must learn in part\nfrom the psychology of the matured and civilised, the present living,\nthinking, feeling man in contact with his religion. Matured religion is\nnot to be judged by the primitive, but the reverse. The real study of\nthe history of religions, the study of the objective phenomena, from\nearliest to latest times, has its place. But the history of religions is\nperverted when it takes for fact in the life of primitive man that which\nnever existed save in the imagination of twentieth century students.\nEarly Christianity, on its inner and spiritual side, is to be judged by\nlater Christianity, by present Christianity, by the Christian experience\nwhich we see and know to-day, and not conversely, as men have always\nclaimed. The modern man is not to be converted after the pattern which\nit is alleged that his grandfather followed. For, first, there is the\nquestion as to whether his grandfather did conform to this pattern. And\nbeyond that, it is safer to try to understand the experience of the\ngrandfather, whom we do not know, by the psychology and experience of\nthe grandson, whom we do know, with, of course, a judicious admixture of\nknowledge of the history of the nineteenth century, which would occasion\ncharacteristic differences. The modern saint is not asked to be a saint\nlike Francis. In the first place, how do we know what Francis was like?\nIn the second place, the experience of Francis may be most easily\nunderstood by the aid of modern experience of true revolt from\nworldliness and of consecration to self-sacrifice, as these exist among\nus, with, of course, the proper background furnished by the history of\nthe thirteenth century. Souls are one. Our souls may be, at least in\nsome measure, known to ourselves. Even the souls of some of our fellows\nmay be measurably known to us. What are the facts of the religious\nexperience? How do souls react in face of the eternal? The experience of\nreligion, the experience of the fatherhood of God, of the sonship of\nman, of the moving of the spirit, is surely one experience. How did even\nChrist's great soul react, experience, work, will, and suffer? By what\npossible means can we ever know how he reacted, worked, willed,\nsuffered? In the literature we learn only how men thought that he\nreacted. We must inquire of our own souls. To be sure, Christ belonged\nto the first century, and we live in the twentieth. It is possible for\nus to learn something of the first century and of the concrete outward\nconditions which caused his life to take the shape which it did. We\nlearn this by strict historical research. Assuredly the supreme measure\nin which the spirit of all truth and goodness once took possession of\nthe Nazarene, remains to us a mystery unfathomed and unfathomable.\nDwelling in Jesus, that spirit made through him a revelation of the\ndivine such as the world has never seen. Yet that mystery leads forth\nalong the path of that which is intelligible. And, in another sense,\neven such religious experience as we ourselves may have, poor though it\nbe and sadly limited, leads back into the same mystery.\n\nIt was with this contention that religion is a fact of the inner life of\nman, that it is to be understood through consciousness, that it is\nessentially and absolutely reasonable and yet belongs to the\ntranscendental world, it was with this contention that, in the person of\nImmanuel Kant, the history of modern religious thought began. It is with\nthis contention, in one of its newest and most far-reaching applications\nin the work of William James, that this history continues. For no one\ncan think of the number of questions which recent years have raised,\nwithout realising that this history is by no means concluded. It is\nconceivable that the changes which the twentieth century will bring may\nbe as noteworthy as those which the nineteenth century has seen. At\nleast we may be grateful that so great and sure a foundation has been\nlaid.\n\n\n\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\nWERNLE, PAUL. _Einfuehrung in das theologische Studium._ Tuebingen, 2.\nAufl., 1911.\n\nDIE KULTUR DER GEGENWART. Th. I., Abth. iv. 1. _Geschichte der\nChristlichen Religion_, v. Wellhausen, Juelieber, Harnack u. A., 2. Aufl.\nBerlin, 1909.\n\nDIE KULTUR DER GEGENWART. Th. I., Abth. iv. 2. _Systematische\nChristliche Religion_, v. Troeltsch, Herrmann, Holtzmann u. A., 2. Aufl.\nBerlin, 1909.\n\nPFLEIDERER, OTTO. _The Development of Theology in Germany since Kant,\nand its Progress in Great Britain since_ 1825. Transl., J. FREDERICK\nSMITH. London, 1893.\n\nLICHTENBERGER, F. _Histoire des Idees Religieuses en Allemagne despuis\nle milieu du XVIII' siecle a nos jours._ Paris, 1873. Transl., with\nnotes, W. HASTIE. Edinburgh, 1889.\n\nADENEY, W.F. _A Century of Progress in Religious Life and Thought._\nLondon, 1901.\n\nHARNACK, ADOLF. _Das Wesen des Christenthums._ Berlin, 1900. Transl.,\n_What is Christianity?_ T.B. SAUNDERS. London, 1901.\n\nSTEPHEN, LESLIE. _History of English Thought in the Eighteenth Century._\n2 vols. London, 3rd ed., 1902.\n\nTROELTSCH, ERNST. Art. 'Deismus' in Herzog-Hauck, _Realencyclopaedie fuer\nProtestantische Theologie und Kirche._ 3. Aufl. Leipzig, 4. Bd., 1898,\ns. 532 f.: art. 'Aufklaerung,' 2. Bd., 1897, s. 225 f.: art. 'Idealismus,\ndeutscher,' 8. Bd., 1900, s. 612 f.\n\nMIRBT, CARL. Art. 'Pietiamus' in Herzog-Hauck, _Realencydopaedie_, 15.\nBd., 1904, s. 774 f.\n\nRITSCHL, ALBRECHT. _Geschichte des Pietismus_, 3 Bde. Bonn, 1880-1886.\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nWINDELBAND, W. _Die Geschichte der neueren Philosophie in ihrem\nZusammenhang mit der allgemeinen Kultur und den besouderen\nWissenschaften._ 2 Bde. Leipzig, 1899.\n\nHOeFFDING, HAROLD. _Geschichte der neueren Philosophie._ Uebersetzt v.\nBendixen. 2 Bde. Leipzig, 1896.\n\nEUCKEN, RUDOLF. _Die Lebensanschauungen der grossen Denker._ 8. Anfl.\nLeipzig, 1909. Transl., _The Problem of Human Life as viewed _by the\nGreat Thinkers_, by W.S. HOUGH and W.R. BOYCE GIBSON. New York, 1910.\n\nPRINGLE-PATTISON, A. SETH. _The Development from Kant to Hegel._ London,\n1881.\n\nDREWS, ARTHUR. _Die Deutsche Spekulation seit Kant_ 2 Bde. Berlin, 1893.\n\nROYCE, JOSIAH. _The Spirit of Modern Philosophy._ Boston, 1893. _The\nReligious Aspect of Philosophy._ Boston, 1885. _The World and the\nIndividual._ 2 vols. New York, 1901 and 1904.\n\nPAULSEN, FRIEDRICH. _Immanuel Kant, sein Leben und seine Lehre._\nStuttgart, 3. Aufl., 1899. Transl., CREIGHTON AND LEFEVER. New York,\n1902.\n\nCAIRD, EDWARD. _A Critical Account of the Philosophy of Kant_: with an\nHistorical Introduction. Glasgow, 1877.\n\nFISCHER, KUNO. _Hegels Leben, Werke und Lehre._ 2 Bde. Heidelberg, 1901.\n\nSIEBECK, HERMANN. _Lehrbuch der Religionsphilosophie._ Freiburg, 1893.\n\nEUCKEN, RUDOLF. _Der Wahrheitsgehalt der Religion._ Leipzig, 4. Aufl.,\n1906. Transl., JONES. London, 1911.\n\nTIELE, C.P. _Compendium der Religionsgeschichte._ Uebersetzt v. Weber.\n3. Aufl. umgearbeitet v. Soederblom. Breslau, 1903.\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nVON FRANK, H.R. _Geschichte und Kritik der neueren Theologie\ninsbesondere der systematischen seit Schleiermacher._ Hrsg, v.\nSchaarschmidt. Eriangen, 1898.\n\nSCHWARZ, CARL. _Zur Gesehichte der neuiten Theologie._ Leipzig, 4.\nAufl., 1869.\n\nKATTENBUSCH, FERDINAND. _Von Schleiermacher zu Ritschl._ Giessen, 1892.\n\nBROWN, WILLIAM ADAMS. _The Essence of Christianity: a Study in the\n History of Definition._ New York, 1902.\n\nDILTHEY, WILHELM. _Leben Schleiermachers_, 1. Bd. Berlin, 1870.\n\nGASS, WILHELM. _Geschichte der Protestantischen Dogmatik_, 4 Bde.\nLeipzig, 1854-67.\n\nGARVIE, ALFRED. _The Ritschlian Theology_, 2nd ed. Edinburgh, 1902.\n\nHERRMANN, W. _Der evangeliche Glaube und die Theologie Albrecht\nRitschls._ Marburg, 1896.\n\nPFLEIDERER, OTTO. _Die Ritschlche Theologie kritiech beleuchtet._\nBraunschweig, 1891.\n\nKAFTAN, JULIUS. _Dogmatik._ Tuebingen, 4. Aufl., 1901.\n\nSTEVENS, GEORGE B. _The Christian Doctrine of Salvation._ New York,\n1905.\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\nCARPENTER, J. ESTLIN. _The Bible in the Nineteenth Century._ London,\n1903.\n\nGARDNER, Percy. _A Historic View of the New Testament._ London,1901.\n\nJUeLICHER, ADOLF. _Einleitung in das Neue Testament._ Freiliurg, 6.\nAufl., 1906. Transl., Miss Janet Ward. 1904.\n\nMOORE, EDWARD CALDWELL. _The New Testament in the Christian Church._ New\nYork, 1904.\n\nLIKTZMANN, HANS. _Wie wurden die Buecher des neuen Testaments heilige\nSchrift?_ Tuebingen, 1907.\n\nLOISY, A. _L'Ecangile el I'Eglise._ Paris, 2nd ed., 1903. Transl.,\nLondon, 1904.\n\nWERNLE, PAUL. _Die Anfaenge unserer Religion._ Tuebingen, 1901.\n\nSCHWEITZER, ALBERT. _Von Reimarus zu Wrede, eine Geschichte der\nLeben-Jesu-Forschung._ Tuebingen, 1906.\n\nSANDAY, WILLIAM. _The Life of Christ in Recent Research._ Oxford, 1907.\n\nHOLTZMANN, OSKAR. _Neu-Testamentliche Zeitgeschichte._ Freiburg, 2.\nAufl., 1906.\n\nDRIVER, SAMUEL B. _Introduction to the Literature of the Old Testament._\nEdinburgh, 2nd ed., 1909.\n\nWELLHAUSEN, JULIUS. _Prolegomena sur Geschichte Israels._ Berlin, 5.\nAufl., 1899.\n\nBUDDE, KARL._The Religion of Israel to the Exile._ New York, 1899.\n\nKAUTSCH, E. _Abriss der Geschichte des alt-tentamentlichen Schriftthums\nin seiner 'Heilige Schrift des Alten Testaments.'_ Freiburg, 1894.\nTransl., J.J. TAYLOR, and published separately, New York, 1899.\n\nSMITH, W. ROBERTSON. _The Old Testament in the Jewish Church._ Glasgow,\n2nd ed., 1892. _The Prophets of Israel_, 2nd ed., 1892.\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\nMEHZ, JOHH. _A History of European Thought in the Nineteenth Century._\nVols. 1 and 2, Edinburgh, 1904 and 1903.\n\nWHITE, ANDREW D. _The History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in\nChristendom._ 2 vols. New York, 1896.\n\nOTTO, RUDOLF. _Naturalistisehe und religioese Weltansicht._ Tuebingen, 2.\nAufl., 1909.\n\nWARD, JAMES. _Naturalism and Agnosticism._ 2 vols. London, 1899.\n\nFLINT, ROBERT. _Agnosticism._ Edinburgh, 1903.\n\nTULLOCH, JOHN. _Modern Theories in Philosophy and Religion._ Edinburgh,\n1884.\n\nMARTINEAU, JAMES. _Essays, Reviews and Addresses._ Vols. 1 and 3 London,\n1890.\n\nBOUTROUX, EMILE. _Science et Religion dans la Philosophie\ncontemporaine._ Paris, 1008. Transl., NIELD. London, 1909.\n\nFLINT, ROBERT. _Socialism._ London, 1895.\n\nPEABODY, FRANCIS G. _Jesus Christ and the Social Question._ New York,\n1905.\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n\nHUNT, JOHN. _Religious Thought in England in the Nineteenth Century._\nLondon, 1896.\n\nTULLOCH, JOHN. _Movements of Religious Thought in Britain during the\nNineteenth Century._ London, 1885.\n\nBENN, ALFRED WILLIAM. _The History of English Rationalism in the\nNineteenth Century._ 2 vols. London, 1906.\n\nHUTTON, RICHARD H. _Essays on some of the Modern Guides to English\nThought in Matters of Faith._ London, 1900.\n\nMELLONE, SIDNEY H. _Leaders of Religious Thought in the Nineteenth\nCentury._ Edinburgh, 1902.\n\nBROOKE, STOPFORD A. _Theology in the English Poets._ London, 1896.\n\nSCUDDER, VIDA D. _The Life of the Spirit in the Modern English Poets_.\nBoston, 1899.\n\nCHURCH, R.W. _The Oxford Movement: Twelve Years, 1833-1845._ London,\n1904.\n\nFAIRBAIRN, ANDREW M. _Catholicism, Roman and Anglican._ New York, 1899.\n\nWARD, WILFRID. _Life and Times of Cardinal Newman._ 2 vols. 5th ed.\nLondon, 1900.\n\nWARD, WILFRID. _Life of John Henry, Cardinal Newman._ 2 vols. London,\n1912.\n\nDOLLINGER, J.J. IGNAZ VON. _Das Papstthum; Neubearbeitung von Janus: Der\nPapst und das Concil, von J. Friedrich._ Muenchen, 1892.\n\nGOUT, RAOUL. _L'Affaire Tyrrell._ Paris, 1910.\n\nSABATIER, PAUL. _Modernism_. Transl., MILES. New York, 1908.\n\nSTANLEY, ARTHUR P. _The Life and Correspondence of Thomas Arnold._ 2\nvols. London, 13th ed., 1882.\n\nBROOKE, STOPFORD A. _Life and Letters of Frederick W. Robertson._ 2\nvols. London, 1891.\n\nABBOTT, EVELYN and CAMPBELL, LEWIS. _Life and Letters of Benjamin\nJowett_. 2 vols. London, 1897.\n\nDRUMMOND, JAMES, and UPTON, C.B. _Life and Letters of James Martineau._\n2 vols. London, 1902.\n\nALLEN, ALEXANDER V.G. _Life and Letters of Phillips Brooks._ 2 vols. New\nYork, 1900.\n\nMUNGER, THEODORE T. _Horace Bushnell, Preacher and Theologian._ Boston,\n1899.","title":"An Outline of the History of Christian Thought Since Kant","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":89700}