{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_6123/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_6123","id":"gutenberg_6123","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6123","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","English essays -- 19th century"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHEOLOGICAL ESSAYS AND OTHER PAPERS.\n\nBY THOMAS DE QUINCEY\n\nAUTHOR OF\n\n'CONFESSIONS OF AN ENGLISH OPIUM-EATER,' ETC. ETC.\n\n\nIN TWO VOLUMES.\n\nVOL. I.\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS OF VOLUME I.\n\n\nON CHRISTIANITY AS AN ORGAN OF POLITICAL MOVEMENT\n\nPROTESTANTISM\n\nON THE SUPPOSED SCRIPTURAL EXPRESSION FOR ETERNITY\n\nJUDAS ISCARIOT\n\nON HUME'S ARGUMENT AGAINST MIRACLES\n\nCASUISTRY\n\nGREECE UNDER THE ROMANS\n\n\n\nON CHRISTIANITY, AS AN ORGAN OF POLITICAL MOVEMENT.\n\n[1846.]\n\nFORCES, which are illimitable in their compass of effect, are often,\nfor the same reason, obscure and untraceable in the steps of their\nmovement. Growth, for instance, animal or vegetable, what eye can\narrest its eternal increments? The hour-hand of a watch, who can\ndetect the separate fluxions of its advance? Judging by the past,\nand the change which is registered between that and the present, we\nknow that it must be awake; judging by the immediate appearances,\nwe should say that it was always asleep. Gravitation, again, that\nworks without holiday for ever, and searches every corner of the\nuniverse, what intellect can follow it to its fountains? And yet,\nshyer than gravitation, less to be counted than the fluxions of\nsun-dials, stealthier than the growth of a forest, are the footsteps\nof Christianity amongst the political workings of man. Nothing,\nthat the heart of man values, is so secret; nothing is so potent.\n\nIt is _because_ Christianity works so secretly, that it works\nso potently; it is _because_ Christianity burrows and hides\nitself, that it towers above the clouds; and hence partly it is\nthat its working comes to be misapprehended, or even lost out of\nsight. It is dark to eyes touched with the films of human frailty:\nbut it is 'dark with excessive bright.'[Footnote:  'Dark with\nexcessive bright.' _Paradise Lost_. Book III.] Hence it has\nhappened sometimes that minds of the highest order have entered\ninto enmity with the Christian faith, have arraigned it as a curse\nto man, and have fought against it even upon Christian impulses,\n(impulses of benignity that could not have had a birth except in\nChristianity.) All comes from the labyrinthine intricacy in which\nthe _social_ action of Christianity involves itself to the\neye of a contemporary. Simplicity the most absolute is reconcilable\nwith intricacy the most elaborate. The weather--how simple would\nappear the laws of its oscillations, if we stood at their centre!\nand yet, because we do _not_, to this hour the weather is a\nmystery.  Human health--how transparent is its economy under ordinary\ncircumstances! abstinence and cleanliness, labor and rest, these\nsimple laws, observed in just proportions, laws that may be engrossed\nupon a finger nail, are sufficient, on the whole, to maintain the\nequilibrium of pleasurable existence. Yet, if once that equilibrium\nis disturbed, where is the science oftentimes deep enough to rectify\nthe unfathomable watch-work? Even the simplicities of planetary\nmotions do not escape distortion: nor is it easy to be convinced\nthat the distortion is in the eye which beholds, not in the object\nbeheld. Let a planet be wheeling with heavenly science, upon arches\nof divine geometry: suddenly, to us, it shall appear unaccountably\nretrograde; flying when none pursues; and unweaving its own work.\nLet this planet in its utmost elongations travel out of sight, and\nfor _us_ its course will become incoherent: because _our_\nsight is feeble, the beautiful curve of the planet shall be dislocated\ninto segments, by a parenthesis of darkness; because our earth is\nin no true centre, the disorder of parallax shall trouble the laws\nof light; and, because we ourselves are wandering, the heavens\nshall seem fickle.\n\nExactly in the predicament of such a planet is Christianity: its\nmotions are intermingled with other motions; crossed and thwarted,\neclipsed and disguised, by counter-motions in man himself, and by\ndisturbances that man cannot overrule. Upon lines that are direct,\nupon curves that are circuitous, Christianity is advancing for ever;\nbut from our imperfect vision, or from our imperfect opportunities\nfor applying even such a vision, we cannot trace it continuously. We\nlose it, we regain it; we see it doubtfully, we see it interruptedly;\nwe see it in collision, we see it in combination; in collision\nwith darkness that confounds, in combination with cross lights\nthat perplex. And this in part is irremediable; so that no finite\nintellect will ever retrace the total curve upon which Christianity\nhas moved, any more than eyes that are incarnate will ever see God.\n\nBut part of this difficulty in unweaving the maze, has its source\nin a misconception of the original machinery by which Christianity\nmoved, and of the initial principle which constituted its differential\npower.  In books, at least, I have observed one capital blunder\nupon the relations which Christianity bears to Paganism: and out\nof that one mistake, grows a liability to others, upon the possible\nrelations of Christianity to the total drama of this world. I will\nendeavor to explain my views. And the reader, who takes any interest\nin the subject, will not need to fear that the explanation should\nprove tedious; for the mere want of space, will put me under a\ncoercion to move rapidly over the ground; I cannot be diffuse; and,\nas regards quality, he will find in this paper little of what is\nscattered over the surface of books.\n\nI begin with this question:--What do people mean in a Christian\nland by the word _'religion?'_ My purpose is not to propound\nany metaphysical problem; I wish only, in the plainest possible\nsense, to ask, and to have an answer, upon this one point--how\nmuch is understood by that obscure term,* _'religion,'_ when\nused by a Christian? Only I am punctilious upon one demand, viz.,\nthat the answer shall be comprehensive. We are apt in such cases\nto answer elliptically, omitting, because silently presuming as\nunderstood between us, whatever _seems_ obvious. To prevent\n_that_, we will suppose the question to be proposed by an\nemissary from some remote planet,--who, knowing as yet absolutely\nnothing of us and our intellectual differences, must insist (as\n_I_ insist) upon absolute precision, so that nothing essential\nshall be wanting, and nothing shall be redundant.\n\n*[Footnote: '_That obscure term;_'--i. e. not obscure as\nregards the use of the term, or its present value, but as regards\nits original _genesis_, or what in civil law is called the\n_deductio_. Under what angle, under what aspect, or relation,\nto the field which it concerns did the term _religion_ originally\ncome forward? The general field, overlooked by religion, is the\nground which lies between the spirit of man and the supernatural\nworld. At present, under the humblest conception of religion, the\nhuman spirit is supposed to be interested in such a field by the\nconscience and the nobler affections, But I suspect that originally\nthese great faculties were absolutely excluded from the point of\nview. Probably the relation between spiritual _terrors_ and\nman's power of propitiation, was the problem to which the word\n_religion_ formed the answer. Religion meant apparently, in\nthe infancies of the various idolatries, that _latreia_, or\nservice of sycophantic fear, by which, as the most approved method\nof approach, man was able to conciliate the favor, or to buy off\nthe malice of supernatural powers. In all Pagan nations, it is\nprobable that religion would, an the whole, be a degrading influence;\nalthough I see, even for such nations, two cases, at the least,\nwhere the uses of a religion would be indispensable; viz. for the\nsanction of _oaths_, and as a channel for gratitude not pointing\nto a human object. If so, the answer is easy: religion _was_\ndegrading: but heavier degradations would have arisen from irreligion.\nThe noblest of all idolatrous peoples, viz. the Romans, have left\ndeeply scored in their very use of their word _religlo_, their\ntestimony to the degradation wrought by any religion that Paganism\ncould yield. Rarely indeed is this word employed, by a Latin author,\nin speaking of an individual, without more or less of sneer. Reading\nthat word, in a Latin book, we all try it and ring it, as a petty\nshopkeeper rings a half-crown, before we venture to receive it as\noffered in good faith and loyalty. Even the Greeks are nearly in\nthe same \u03ac\u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1, when they wish to speak of religiosity in\na spirit of serious praise. Some circuitous form, commending the\ncorrectness of a man, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b1 \u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1, _in respect of\ndivine things_, becomes requisite; for all the direct terms,\nexpressing the religious temper, are preoccupied by a taint of\nscorn. The word \u03cc\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, means _pious_,--not as regards\nthe gods, but as regards the dead; and even \u03b5\u03af\u03c3\u03b5\u03b2\u03b7\u03c2, though\nnot used sneeringly, is a world short of our word 'religious.' This\ncondition of language we need not wonder at: the language of life\nmust naturally receive, as in a mirror, the realities of life.\nDifficult it is to maintain a just equipoise in any moral habits,\nbut in none so much as in habits of religious demeanor under a Pagan\n[that is, a degrading] religion. To be a coward, is base: to be a\nsycophant, is base: but to be a sycophant in the service of cowardice,\nis the perfection of baseness: and yet this was the brief analysis\nof a devotee amongst the ancient Romans. Now, considering that\nthe word _religion_ is originally Roman, [probably from the\nEtruscan,] it seems probable that it presented the idea of religion\nunder some one of its bad aspects. Coleridge must quite have forgotten\nthis Paganism of the word, when he suggested as a plausible idea,\nthat originally it had presented religion under the aspect of\na coercion or restraint. Morality having been viewed as the prime\nrestraint or obligation resting upon man, then Coleridge thought that\nreligion might have been viewed as a _religatio_, a reiterated\nrestraint, or secondary obligation. This is ingenious, but it\nwill not do. It is cracked in the ring. Perhaps as many as three\nobjections might be mustered to such a derivation: but the last of\nthe three is conclusive. The ancients never _did_ view morality\nas a mode of obligation: I affirm this peremptorily; and with the\nmore emphasis, because there are great consequences suspended upon\nthat question.]\n\nWhat, then, is religion? Decomposed into its elements, as they are\nfound in Christianity, how many _powers_ for acting on the\nheart of man, does, by possibility, this great agency include?\nAccording to my own view, four.[Footnote: there are _six_,\nin one sense, of religion: viz. 5_thly_, corresponding moral\naffections; 6_thly_, a suitable life. But this applies to\nreligion as _subjectively possessed_ by a man, not to religion\nas _objectively contemplated_. ] I will state them, and number\nthem.\n\n1st. A form of worship, a _cultus_.\n\n2dly. An idea of God; and (pointing the analysis to Christianity\nin particular) an idea not purified merely from ancient pollutions,\nbut recast and absolutely born again.\n\n3dly. An idea of the relation which man occupies to God: and of\nthis idea also, when Christianity is the religion concerned, it\nmust be said, that it is so entirely remodelled, as in no respect\nto resemble any element in any other religion. Thus far we are\nreminded of the poet's expression, 'Pure religion _breathing_\nhousehold laws;' that is, not _teaching_ such laws, not formally\n_prescribing_ a new economy of life, so much as _inspiring_\nit indirectly through a new atmosphere surrounding all objects with\nnew attributes. But there is also in Christianity,\n\n4thly. A _doctrinal_ part, a part directly and explicitly occupied\nwith _teaching_; and this divides into two great sections, \u03b1,\nA system of ethics so absolutely new as to be untranslatable[Footnote:\nThis is not generally perceived. On the contrary, people are ready\nto say, 'Why, so far from it, the very earliest language in which\nthe Gospels appeared, excepting only St. Matthew's, was the Greek.'\nYes, reader; but _what_ Greek? Had not the Greeks been, for\na long time, colonizing Syria under princes of Grecian blood,--had\nnot the Greek language (as a _lingua Hellenistica_) become\nsteeped in Hebrew ideas,--no door of communication could have been\nopened between the new world of Christian feeling, and the old\nworld so deaf to its music. Here, therefore, we may observe two\npreparations made secretly by Providence for receiving Christianity\nand clearing the road before it; first, the diffusion of the Greek\nlanguage through the whole civilized world (\u03ae \u03bf\u03af\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b7)\nsome time before Christ, by which means the Evangelists found\nwings, as it were, for flying abroad through the kingdoms of the\nearth; secondly, the Hebraizing of this language, by which means\nthe Evangelists found a new material made plastic and obedient to\nthese new ideas, which they had to build with, and which they had\nto build upon.] into either of the classical languages; and, \u03b2, A\nsystem of mysteries; as, for instance, the mystery of the Trinity,\nof the Divine Incarnation, of the Atonement, of the Resurrection,\nand others.\n\nHere are great elements; and now let me ask, how many of these\nare found in the Heathen religion of Greece and Rome? This is an\nimportant question; it being my object to show that no religion\nbut the Christian, and precisely through some one or two of its\n_differential_ elements, could have been an organ of political\nmovement.\n\nMost divines who anywhere glance at this question, are here found\nin, what seems to me, the deepest of errors. Great theologians are\nthey, and eminent philosophers, who have presumed that (as a matter\nof course) all religions, however false, are introductory to some\nscheme of morality, however imperfect. They grant you that the\nmorality is oftentimes unsound; but still, they think that some\nmorality there must have been, or else for what purpose was the\nreligion? This I pronounce error.\n\nAll the moral theories of antiquity were utterly disjoined from\nreligion. But this fallacy of a dogmatic or doctrinal part in Paganism\nis born out of Anachronism.  It is the anachronism of unconsciously\nreflecting back upon the ancient religions of darkness, and as if\nessential to _all_ religions, features that never were suspected\nas possible, until they had been revealed in Christianity.[Footnote: Once\nfor all, to save the trouble of continual repetitions, understand\nJudaism to be commemorated jointly with Christianity; the dark root\ntogether with the golden fruitage; whenever the nature of the case\ndoes not presume a contradistinction of the one to the other.]\nReligion, in the eye of a Pagan, had no more relation to morals,\nthan it had to ship-building or trigonometry. But, then, why was\nreligion honored amongst Pagans? How did it ever arise? What was\nits object? Object! it _had_ no object; if by this you mean\nulterior object. Pagan religion arose in no motive, but in an\nimpulse. Pagan religion aimed at no distant prize ahead: it fled\nfrom a danger immediately behind. The gods of the Pagans were wicked\nnatures; but they were natures to be feared, and to be propitiated;\nfor they were fierce, and they were moody, and (as regarded man\nwho had no wings) they were powerful. Once accredited as facts,\nthe Pagan gods could not be regarded as other than terrific facts;\nand thus it was, that in terror, blind terror, as against power\nin the hands of divine wickedness, arose the ancient religions of\nPaganism. Because the gods were wicked, man was religious; because\nOlympus was cruel, earth trembled; because the divine beings were\nthe most lawless of Thugs, the human being became the most abject\nof sycophants.\n\nHad the religions of Paganism arisen teleologically; that is, with a\nview to certain purposes, to certain final causes ahead; had they\ngrown out of _forward_-looking views, contemplating, for\ninstance, the furthering of civilization, or contemplating some\ninterests in a world beyond the present, there would probably have\narisen, concurrently, a section in all such religions, dedicated\nto positive instruction. There would have been a _doctrinal_\npart. There might have been interwoven with the ritual or worship,\na system of economics, or a code of civil prudence, or a code\nof health, or a theory of morals, or even a secret revelation of\nmysterious relations between man and the Deity: all which existed\nin Judaism. But, as the case stood, this was impossible. The gods\nwere mere odious facts, like scorpions or rattlesnakes, having no\nmoral aspects whatever; public nuisances; and bearing no relation\nto man but that of capricious tyrants. First arising upon a basis\nof terror, these gods never subsequently enlarged that basis;\nnor sought to enlarge it. All antiquity contains no hint of a\npossibility that _love_ could arise, as by any ray mingling\nwith the sentiments in a human creature towards a Divine one; not\neven sycophants ever pretended to _love_ the gods.\n\nUnder this original peculiarity of Paganism, there arose two\nconsequences, which I will mark by the Greek letters \u03b1 and \u03b2.\nThe latter I will notice in its order, first calling the reader's\nattention to the consequence marked \u03b1, which is this:--In the\nfull and profoundest sense of the word _believe_, the pagans\ncould not be said to believe in _any_ gods: but, in the\nordinary sense, they did, and do, and must believe, in _all_\ngods. As this proposition will startle some readers, and is yet\nclosely involved in the main truth which I am now pressing, viz.\nthe meaning and effect of a simple _cultus_, as distinguished\nfrom a high doctrinal religion, let us seek an illustration from\nour Indian empire. The Christian missionaries from home, when first\nopening their views to Hindoos, describe themselves as laboring\nto prove that Christianity is a true religion, and as either\nasserting, or leaving it to be inferred, that, on that assumption,\nthe Hindoo religion is a false one. But the poor Hindoo never\ndreamed of doubting that the Christian was a true religion; nor\nwill he at all infer, from your religion being true, that his own\nmust be false. Both are true, he thinks: all religions are true;\nall gods are true gods; and all are _equally_ true. Neither can\nhe understand what you mean by a false religion, or how a religion\n_could_ be false; and he is perfectly right. Wherever religions\nconsist only of a worship, as the Hindoo religion does, there can\nbe no competition amongst them as to truth. _That_ would be\nan absurdity, not less nor other than it would be for a Prussian\nto denounce the Austrian emperor, or an Austrian to denounce the\nPrussian king, as a false sovereign. False! _How_ false? In\nwhat sense false? Surely not as non-existing. But at least, (the\nreader will reply,) if the religions contradict each other, one\nof them _must_ be false. Yes; but _that_ is impossible.\nTwo religions cannot contradict each other, where both contain only\na _cultus_: they could come into collision only by means of a\ndoctrinal, or directly affirmative part, like those of Christianity\nand Mahometanism. But this part is what no idolatrous religion\never had, or will have. The reader must not understand me to mean\nthat, merely as a compromise of courtesy, two professors of different\nidolatries would agree to recognise each other. Not at all. The\ntruth of one does not imply the falsehood of the other.  Both are\ntrue as _facts:_ neither can be false, in any higher sense,\nbecause neither makes any pretence to truth doctrinal.\n\nThis distinction between a religion having merely a worship, and a\nreligion having also a body of doctrinal truth, is familiar to the\nMahometans; and they convey the distinction by a very appropriate\nexpression. Those majestic religions, (as they esteem them,) which\nrise above the mere pomps and tympanies of ceremonial worship, they\ndenominate '_religions of the book_.' There are, of such\nreligions, three, viz., Judaism, Christianity, and Islamism. The\nfirst builds upon the Law and the Prophets; or, perhaps, sufficiently\nupon the Pentateuch; the second upon the Gospel; the last upon the\nKoran. No other religion can be said to rest upon a book; or to\nneed a book; or even to admit of a book. For we must not be duped\nby the case where a lawgiver attempts to connect his own human\ninstitutes with the venerable sanctions of a national religion, or\nthe case where a learned antiquary unfolds historically the record\nof a vast mythology. Heaps of such cases, (both law and mythological\nrecords,) survive in the Sanscrit, and in other pagan languages. But\nthese are books which build upon the religion, not books upon which\nthe religion is built. If a religion consists only of a ceremonial\nworship, in that case there can be no opening for a book; because\nthe forms and details publish themselves daily, in the celebration\nof the worship, and are traditionally preserved, from age to age,\nwithout dependence on a book. But, if a religion has a doctrine,\nthis implies a revelation or message from Heaven, which cannot, in\nany other way, secure the transmission of this message to future\ngenerations, than by causing it to be registered in a book. A book,\ntherefore, will be convertible with a doctrinal religion:--no book,\nno doctrine; and, again, no doctrine, no book.\n\nUpon these principles, we may understand that second consequence\n(marked \u03b2) which has perplexed many men, viz., why it is that the\nHindoos, in our own times; but, equally, why it is that the Greek\nand Roman idolaters of antiquity, never proselytized; no, nor could\nhave viewed such an attempt as rational. Naturally, if a religion\nis doctrinal, any truth which it possesses, as a secret deposit\nconsigned to its keeping by a revelation, must be equally valid\nfor one man as for another, without regard to race or nation. For\na _doctrinal_ religion, therefore, to proselytize, is no more\nthan a duty of consistent humanity. You, the professors of that\nreligion, possess the medicinal fountains. You will not diminish\nyour own share by imparting to others. What churlishness, if you\nshould grudge to others a health which does not interfere with\nyour own! Christians, therefore, Mahometans, and Jews originally,\nin proportion as they were sincere and conscientious, have always\ninvited, or even forced, the unbelieving to their own faith: nothing\nbut accidents of situation, local or political, have disturbed'this\neffort. But, on the other hand, for a mere '_cultus_' to\nattempt conversions, is nonsense. An ancient Roman could have had\nno motive for bringing you over to the worship of Jupiter Capitolinus;\nnor you any motive for going. 'Surely, poor man,' he would have\nsaid, 'you have, some god of your own, who will be quite as good\nfor _your_ countrymen as Jupiter for mine. But, if you have\n_not_, really I am sorry for your case; and a very odd case it\nis: but I don't see how it could be improved by talking nonsense.\nYou cannot beneficially, you cannot rationally, worship a tutelary\nRoman deity, unless in the character of a Roman; and a Roman you may\nbecome, legally and politically. Being such, you will participate\nin all advantages, if any there _are_, or our national religion;\nand, without needing a process of conversion, either in substance\nor in form. _Ipso facto_, and without any separate choice of\nyour own, on becoming a Roman citizen, you become a party to the\nRoman worship.' For an idolatrous religion to proselytize, would,\ntherefore, be not only useless but unintelligible.\n\nNow, having explained _that_ point, which is a great step\ntowards the final object of my paper, viz., the investigation of\nthe reason why Christianity _is_, which no pagan religion ever\n_has_ been, an organ of political movement, I will go on to\nreview rapidly those four constituents of a religion, as they are\nrealized in Christianity, for the purpose of contrasting them with\nthe false shadows, or even blank negations, of these constituents\nin pagan idolatries.\n\nFirst, then, as to the CULTUS, or form of the national worship:--In\nour Christian ritual I recognise these separate acts; viz. A, an\nact of Praise; B, an act of Thanksgiving; C, an act of Confession;\nD, an act of Prayer. In A, we commemorate with adoration the\n_general_ perfections of the Deity. There, all of us have an\nequal interest. In B, we commemorate with thankfulness those special\nqualities of the Deity, or those special manifestations of them,\nby which we, the individual worshippers, have recently benefited.\nIn C, by upright confession, we deprecate. In D, we pray, or ask\nfor the things which we need. Now, in the _cultus_ of the\nancient pagans, B and C (the second act and the third) were wanting\naltogether. No thanksgiving ever ascended, on his own account,\nfrom the lips of an individual; and the state thanksgiving for a\ntriumph of the national armies, was but a mode of ostentatiously\npublishing the news. As to C, it is scarcely necessary to say\nthat this was wanting, when I mention that penitential feelings\nwere unknown amongst the ancients, and had no name; for\n_p\u0153nitentia_[Footnote: In Greek, there is a word for\nrepentance, but not until it had been rebaptized into a Christian\nuse. _Metanoia_, however, is not that word: it is grossly\nto defeat the profound meaning of the New Testament, if John the\nBaptist is translated as though summoning the world to _repentance_;\nit was not _that_ to which he summoned them.] means _regret_,\nnot _penitence_; and _me p\u0153nitet hujus facti_, means, 'I\nrue this act in its consequences,' not 'I repent of this act for\nits moral nature.' A and D, the first act and the last, _appear_\nto be present; but are so most imperfectly. When 'God is praised\naright,' praised by means of such deeds or such attributes as express\na divine nature, we recognise one great function of a national\nworship,--not otherwise.  This, however, we must overlook and pardon,\nas being a fault essential to the religion: the poor creatures\ndid the best they could to praise their god, lying under the curse\nof gods so thoroughly depraved. But in D, the case is different.\nStrictly speaking, the ancients never prayed; and it may be doubted\nwhether D approaches so near to what _we_ mean by prayer,\nas even by a mockery. You read of _preces_, of \u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9, &c.\nand you are desirous to believe that pagan supplications were not\n_always_ corrupt. It is too shocking to suppose, in thinking\nof nations idolatrous yet noble, that never _any_ pure act\nof approach to the heavens took place on the part of man; that\n_always_ the intercourse was corrupt; _always_ doubly corrupt;\nthat eternally the god was bought, and the votary was sold.\nOh, weariness of man's spirit before that unresting mercenariness\nin high places, which neither, when his race clamored for justice,\nnor when it languished for pity, would listen without hire! How\ngladly would man turn away from his false rapacious divinities to\nthe godlike human heart, that so often would yield pardon _before_\nit was asked, and for the thousandth time that would give without\na bribe! In strict propriety, as my reader knows, the classical\nLatin word for a prayer is _votum_; it was a case of contract;\nof mercantile contract; of that contract which the Roman law\nexpressed by the formula--_Do ut des_. Vainly you came before\nthe altars with empty hands. \"But _my_ hands are pure.\" Pure,\nindeed! would reply the scoffing god, let me see what they contain.\nIt was exactly what you daily read in morning papers, viz.:--that,\nin order to appear effectually before that Olympus in London, which\nrains rarities upon us poor abject creatures in the provinces,\nyou must enclose 'an order on the Post-Office or a reference.' It\nis true that a man did not always register his _votum_, (the\nparticular offering which he vowed on the condition of receiving\nwhat he asked,) at the moment of asking. Ajax, for instance, prays\nfor light in the 'Iliad,' and he does not then and there give either\nan order or a reference. But you are much mistaken, if you fancy\nthat even light was to be had _gratis_. It would be 'carried\nto account.' Ajax would be 'debited' with that 'advance.'\n\nYet, when it occurs to a man that, in this _Do ut des_, the\ngeneral _Do_ was either a temple or a sacrifice, naturally it\noccurs to ask what _was_ a sacrifice? I am afraid that the dark\nmurderous nature of the pagan gods is here made apparent. Modern\nreaders, who have had no particular reason for reflecting on the\nnature and management of a sacrifice, totally misconceive it. They\nhave a vague notion that the slaughtered animal was roasted, served\nup on the altars as a banquet to the gods; that these gods by some\nrepresentative ceremony 'made believe' to eat it; and that finally,\n(as dishes that had now become hallowed to divine use,) the several\njoints were disposed of in some mysterious manner: burned, suppose,\nor buried under the altars, or committed to the secret keeping\nof rivers.  Nothing of the sort: when a man made a sacrifice, the\nmeaning was, that he gave a dinner. And not only was every sacrifice\na dinner party, but every dinner party was a sacrifice. This was\nstrictly so in the good old ferocious times of paganism, as may be\nseen in the Iliad: it was not said, 'Agamemnon has a dinner party\nto-day,' but 'Agamemnon sacrifices to Apollo.' Even in Rome, to\nthe last days of paganism, it is probable that some slight memorial\ncontinued to connect the dinner party [_c\u0153na_] with a divine\nsacrifice; and thence partly arose the sanctity of the hospitable\nboard; but to the east of the Mediterranean the full ritual of a\nsacrifice must have been preserved in all banquets, long after it\nhad faded to a form in the less superstitious West. This we may\nlearn from that point of casuistry treated by St. Paul,--whether\na Christian might lawfully eat of things offered to idols.  The\nquestion was most urgent; because a Christian could not accept an\ninvitation to dine with a Grecian fellow-citizen who still adhered\nto paganism, _without_ eating things offered to idols;--the\nwhole banquet was dedicated to an idol. If he would not take\n_that_, he must continue _impransus_. Consequently, the\nquestion virtually amounted to this: Were the Christians to separate\nthemselves altogether from those whose interests were in so many\nways entangled with their own, on the single consideration that these\npersons were heathens? To refuse their hospitalities, _was_\nto separate, and with a hostile expression of feeling.  That would\nbe to throw hindrances in the way of Christianity: the religion could\nnot spread rapidly under such repulsive prejudices; and dangers,\nthat it became un-Christian to provoke, would thus multiply against\nthe infant faith. This being so, and as the gods were really the\nonly parties invited who got nothing at all of the banquet, it\nbecomes a question of some interest,--what _did_ they get?\nThey were merely mocked, if they had no compensatory interest in\nthe dinner! For surely it was an inconceivable mode of honoring\nJupiter, that you and I should eat a piece of roast beef, leaving\nto the god's share only the mockery of a _Barmecide_ invitation,\nassigning him a chair which every body knew that he would never\nfill, and a plate which might as well have been filled with warm\nwater? Jupiter got _something_, be assured; and what _was_\nit? This it was,--the luxury of inhaling the groans, the fleeting\nbreath, the palpitations, the agonies, of the dying victim. This\nwas the dark interest which the wretches of Olympus had in human\ninvitations to dinner: and it is too certain, upon comparing facts\nand dates, that, when left to their own choice, the gods had a\npreference for _man_ as the victim. All things concur to show,\nthat precisely as you ascend above civilization, which continually\nincreased the limitations upon the gods of Olympus, precisely as\nyou go back to that gloomy state in which their true propensities\nhad power to reveal themselves, was man the genuine victim for\n_them_, and the dying anguish of man the best 'nidor' that\nascended from earthly banquets to _their_ nostrils. Their\nstern eyes smiled darkly upon the throbbings of tortured flesh, as\nin Moloch's ears dwelt like music the sound of infants' wailings.\nSecondly, as to the birth of a new idea respecting the nature\nof God:--It may not have occurred to every reader, but none will\nperhaps object to it, when once suggested to his consideration,\nthat--as is the god of any nation, such will be that nation. God,\nhowever falsely conceived of by man, even though splintered into\nfragments by Polytheism, or disfigured by the darkest mythologies,\nis still the greatest of all objects offered to human contemplation.\nMan, when thrown upon his own delusions, may have raised himself,\nor may have adopted from others, the very falsest of ideals, as\nthe true image and reflection of what he calls god. In his lowest\ncondition of darkness, terror may be the moulding principle for\nspiritual conceptions; power, the engrossing attribute which he\nascribes to his deity; and this power may be hideously capricious,\nor associated with vindictive cruelty. It may even happen, that\nhis standard of what is highest in the divinity should be capable\nof falling greatly below what an enlightened mind would figure to\nitself as lowest in man. A more shocking monument, indeed, there\ncannot be than this, of the infinity by which man may descend\nbelow his own capacities of grandeur: the gods, in some systems of\nreligion, have been such and so monstrous by excesses of wickedness,\nas to insure, if annually one hour of periodical eclipse should\nhave left them at the mercy of man, a general rush from their own\nworshippers for strangling them as mad dogs. Hypocrisy, the cringing\nof sycophants, and the credulities of fear, united to conceal this\nmisotheism; but we may be sure that it was widely diffused through\nthe sincerities of the human heart.  An intense desire for kicking\nJupiter, or for hanging him, if found convenient, must have lurked\nin the honorable Koman heart, before the sincerity of human nature\ncould have extorted upon the Roman stage a public declaration,--that\ntheir supreme gods were capable of enormities which a poor,\nunpretending human creature [homuncio] would have disdained.  Many\ntimes the ideal of the divine nature, as adopted by pagan races,\nfell under the contempt, not only of men superior to the national\nsuperstition, but of men partaking in that superstition. Yet, with\nall those drawbacks, an ideal _was_ an ideal. The being set\nup for adoration as god, _was_ such upon the whole to the\nworshipper; since, if there had been any higher mode of excellence\nconceivable for _him_, that higher mode would have virtually\nbecome his deity. It cannot be doubted, therefore, that the nature\nof the national divinities indicated the qualities which ranked\nhighest in the national estimation; and that being contemplated\ncontinually in the spirit of veneration, these qualities must have\nworked an extensive conformity to their own standard. The mythology\nsanctioned by the ritual of public worship, the features of moral\nnature in the gods distributed through that mythology, and sometimes\ncommemorated by gleams in that ritual, domineered over the popular\nheart, even in those cases where the religion had been a derivative\nreligion, and not originally moulded by impulses breathing from\nthe native disposition. So that, upon the whole, such as were the\ngods of a nation, such was the nation: given the particular idolatry,\nit became possible to decipher the character of the idolaters. Where\nMoloch was worshipped, the people would naturally be found cruel;\nwhere the Paphian Venus, it could not be expected that they should\nescape the taint of a voluptuous effeminacy.\n\nAgainst this principle, there could have been no room for demur,\nwere it not through that inveterate prejudice besieging the modern\nmind,--as though all religion, however false, implied some scheme\nof morals connected with it. However imperfectly discharged,\none function even of the pagan priest (it is supposed) must have\nbeen--to guide, to counsel, to exhort, as a teacher of morals. And,\nhad _that_ been so, the practical precepts, and the moral\ncommentary coming after even the grossest forms of worship, or\nthe most revolting mythological legends, might have operated to\nneutralize their horrors, or even to allegorize them into better\nmeanings. Lord Bacon, as a trial of skill, has attempted something of\nthat sort in his 'Wisdom of the Ancients.' But all this is modern\nrefinement, either in the spirit of playful ingenuity or of ignorance.\nI have said sufficiently that there was no _doctrinal_ part in\nthe religion of the pagans. There was a _cultus_, or ceremonial\nworship: _that_ constituted the sum total of religion, in the\nidea of a pagan. There was a necessity, for the sake of guarding\nits traditional usages, and upholding and supporting its pomp, that\nofficial persons should preside in this _cultus_: _that_\nconstituted the duty of the priest. Beyond this ritual of public\nworship, there was nothing at all; nothing to believe, nothing\nto understand. A set of legendary tales undoubtedly there was,\nconnected with the mythologic history of each separate deity. But\nin what sense you understood these, or whether you were at all\nacquainted with them, was a matter of indifference to the priests;\nsince many of these legends were variously related, and some had\napparently been propagated in ridicule of the gods, rather than in\ntheir honor.\n\nWith Christianity a new scene was opened. In this religion the\n_cultus_, or form of worship, was not even the primary business,\nfar less was it the exclusive business. The worship flowed as a\ndirect consequence from the new idea exposed of the divine nature,\nand from the new idea of man's relations to this nature.  Here were\nsuddenly unmasked great doctrines, truths positive and directly\navowed: whereas, in Pagan forms of religion, any notices which then\nwere, or seemed to be, of circumstances surrounding the gods, related\nonly to matters of fact or accident, such as that a particular\ngod was the son or the nephew of some other god; a truth, if it\n_were_ a truth, wholly impertinent to any interest of man.\n\nAs there are some important truths, dimly perceived or not at all,\nlurking in the idea of God,--an idea too vast to be navigable as\nyet by the human understanding, yet here and there to be coasted,--I\nwish at this point to direct the reader's attention upon a passage\nwhich he may happen to remember in Sir Isaac Newton: the passage\noccurs at the end of the 'Optics;' and the exact expressions I do\nnot remember; but the sense is what I am going to state: Sir Isaac\nis speaking of God; and he takes occasion to say, that God is not\ngood, but goodness; is not holy, but holiness; is not infinite,\nbut infinity. This, I apprehend, will have struck many readers as\nmerely a rhetorical _bravura_; sublime, perhaps, and fitted\nto exalt the feeling of awe connected with so unapproachable a\nmystery, but otherwise not throwing any new light upon the darkness\nof the idea as a problem before the intellect. Yet indirectly\nperhaps it _does_, when brought out into its latent sense by\nplacing it in juxtaposition with paganism. If a philosophic theist,\nwho is also a Christian, or who (_not_ being a Christian,)\nhas yet by his birth and breeding become saturated with Christian\nideas and feelings,[Footnote: this case is far from uncommon; and\nundoubtedly, from having too much escaped observation, it has been\nthe cause of much error. Poets I could mention, if it were not\ninvidious to do so, who, whilst composing in a spirit of burning\nenmity to the Christian faith, yet rested for the very sting of\ntheir pathos upon ideas that but for Christianity could never have\nexisted. Translators there have been, English, French, German, of\nMahometan books, who have so colored the whole vein of thinking with\nsentiments peculiar to Christianity, as to draw from a reflecting\nreader the exclamation, 'If this can be indeed the product\nof Islamism, wherefore should Christianity exist?' If thoughts so\ndivine can, indeed, belong to a false religion, what more could\nwe gain from a true one?] attempts to realize the idea of supreme\nDeity, he becomes aware of a double and contradictory movement in\nhis own mind whilst striving towards that result. He demands, in\nthe first place, something in the highest degree generic; and yet\nagain in the opposite direction, something in the highest degree\nindividual; he demands on the one path, a vast ideality, and yet\non the other, in union with a determinate personality. He must not\nsurrender himself to the first impulse, else he is betrayed into a\nmere _anima mundi_; he must not surrender himself to the second,\nelse he is betrayed into something merely human. This difficult\nantagonism, of what is most and what is least generic, must be\nmaintained, otherwise the idea, the possible idea, of that august\nunveiling which takes place in the Judaico-Christian God, is\nabsolutely in clouds. Now, this antagonism utterly collapses in\npaganism. And to a philosophic apprehension, this peculiarity of\nthe heathen gods is more shocking and fearful than what at first\nsight had seemed most so. When a man pauses for the purpose of\nattentively reviewing the Pantheon of Greece and Rome, what strikes\nhim at the first with most depth of impression and with most horror\nis, the _wickedness_ of this Pantheon. And he observes with\nsurprise, that this wickedness, which is at a furnace-heat in the\nsuperior gods, becomes fainter and paler as you descend. Amongst\nthe semi-deities, such as the Oreads or Dryads, the Nereids or\nNaiads, he feels not at all offended. The odor of corruption, the\n_saeva mephitis_, has by this time exhaled. The uproar of\neternal outrage has ceased. And these gentle divinities, if too\nhuman and too beset with infirmities, are not impure, and not vexed\nwith ugly appetites, nor instinct of quarrel: they are tranquil\nas are the hills and the forests; passionless as are the seas and\nthe fountains which they tenant. But, when he ascends to the _dii\nmajorum gentium_, to those twelve gods of the supreme house,\nwho may be called in respect of rank, the Paladins of the classical\nPantheon, secret horror comes over him at the thought that demons,\nreflecting the worst aspects of brutal races, ever _could_\nhave levied worship from his own. It is true they do so no longer\nas regards _our_ planet. But what _has_ been apparently\n_may_ be. God made the Greeks and Romans of one blood with\nhimself; he cannot deny that _intellectually_ the Greeks--he\ncannot deny that _morally_ the Romans--were amongst the foremost\nof human races; and he trembles in thinking that abominations, whose\nsmoke ascended through so many ages to the _supreme_ heavens,\nmay, or might, so far as human resistance is concerned, again\nbecome the law for the noblest of his species. A deep feeling, it\nis true, exists latently in human beings of something perishable\nin evil. Whatsoever is founded in wickedness, according to a deep\nmisgiving dispersed amongst men, must be tainted with corruption.\n_There_ might seem consolation; but a man who reflects is\nnot quite so sure of _that_. As a commonplace resounding in\nschools, it may be justly current amongst us, that what is evil\nby nature or by origin must be transient.  But _that_ may be\nbecause evil in all human things is partial, is heterogeneous; evil\nmixed with good; and the two natures, by their mutual enmity, must\nenter into a collision, which may possibly guarantee the final\ndestruction of the whole compound. Such a result may not threaten\na nature that is purely and totally evil, that is _homogeneously_\nevil. Dark natures there may be, whose _essence_ is evil, that\nmay have an abiding root in the system of the universe not less\nawfully exempt from change than the mysterious foundations of God.\n\nThis is dreadful. Wickedness that is immeasurable, in connection\nwith power that is superhuman, appals the imagination. Yet this is\na combination that might easily have been conceived; and a wicked\ngod still commands a mode of reverence. But that feature of the\npagan pantheon, which I am contrasting with this, viz., that no\npagan deity is an _abstraction_ but a vile _concrete_, impresses\nmyself with a subtler sense of horror; because it blends the\nhateful with a mode of the ludicrous. For the sake of explaining\nmyself to the non-philosophic reader, I beg him to consider what\nis the sort of feeling with which he regards an ancient river-god,\nor the presiding nymph of a fountain. The impression which he\nreceives is pretty much like that from the monumental figure of some\nallegoric being, such as Faith or Hope, Fame or Truth. He hardly\nbelieves that the most superstitious Grecian seriously believed\nin such a being as a distinct personality. He feels convinced that\nthe sort of personal existence ascribed to such an abstraction,\nas well as the human shape, are merely modes of representing and\ndrawing into unity a variety of phenomena and agencies that seem\n_one_, by means of their unintermitting continuity, and because\nthey tend to one common purpose. Now, from such a symbolic god as\nthis, let him pass to Jupiter or Mercury, and instantly he becomes\naware of a revolting individuality. He sees before him the opposite\npole of deity. The river-god had too little of a concrete character.\nJupiter has nothing else. In Jupiter you read no incarnation of\nany abstract quality whatever: he represents nothing whatever in\nthe metaphysics of the universe. Except for the accident of his\npower, he is merely a man. He has a _character_, that is,\na tendency or determination to this quality or that, in excess;\nwhereas a nature truly divine must be _in equilibrio_ as to all\nqualities, and comprehend them all, in the way that a _genus_\ncomprehends the subordinate _species_. He has even a personal\nhistory: he has passed through certain adventures, faced certain\ndangers, and survived hostilities that, at one time, were doubtful\nin their issue. No trace, in short, appears, in any Grecian god, of\nthe generic. Whereas we, in our Christian ideas of God, unconsciously,\nand without thinking of Sir Isaac Newton, realize Sir Isaac's\nconceptions. We think of him as having a sort of allegoric generality,\nliberated from the bonds of the individual; and yet, also, as the\nmost awful among natures, having a conscious personality. He is\ndiffused through all things, present everywhere, and yet not the\nless present locally. He is at a distance unapproachable by finite\ncreatures; and yet, without any contradiction, (as the profound St.\nPaul observes,) 'not very far' from every one of us. And I will\nventure to say, that many a poor old woman has, by virtue of her\nChristian inoculation, Sir Isaac's great idea lurking in her mind;\nas for instance, in relation to any of God's attributes; suppose\nholiness or happiness, she feels, (though analytically she could\nnot explain,) that God is not holy or is not happy by way of\nparticipation, after the manner of other beings: that is, he does\nnot draw happiness from a fountain separate and external to himself,\nand common to other creatures, he drawing more and they drawing\nless; but that he, himself _is_ the fountain; that no other\nbeing can have the least proportion of either one or the other but\nby drawing from that fountain; that as to all other good gifts, that\nas to life itself, they are, in man, not on any separate tenure,\nnot primarily, but derivatively, and only in so far as God enters\ninto the nature of man; that 'we live and move' only so far and so\nlong as the incomprehensible union takes place between the human\nspirit and the fontal abyss of the divine. In short, here, and here\nonly, is found the outermost expansion, the centrifugal, of the\nTO catholic, united with the innermost centripetal of the personal\nconsciousness. Had, therefore, the pagan gods been less detestable,\nneither impure nor malignant, they could not have won a salutary\nveneration--being so merely concrete individuals.\n\nNext, it must have degraded the gods, (and have made them instruments\nof degradation for man,) that they were, one and all, incarnations;\nnot, as even the Christian God is, for a transitory moment and for\nan eternal purpose; but essentially and by overruling necessity.  The\nGreeks could not conceive of spirituality.  Neither can _we_,\nmetaphysically, assign the conditions of the spiritual; but,\npractically, we all feel and represent to our own minds the agencies\nof God, as liberated from bonds of space and time, of flesh and of\nresistance.  This the Greeks could _not_ feel, could _not_\nrepresent.  And the only advantage which the gods enjoyed over the\nworm and the grub was, that they, (or at least the Paladins amongst\nthem--the twelve supreme gods,) could pass, fluently, from one\nincarnation to another.\n\nThirdly. Out of that essential bondage to flesh arose a dreadful\nsuspicion of something worse: in what relation did the pagan gods\nstand to the abominable phenomenon of death? It is not by uttering\npompous flatteries of ever-living and _ambrotos aei_, &c., that\na poet could intercept the searching jealousies of human penetration.\nThese are merely oriental forms of compliment.  And here, by the\nway, as elsewhere, we find Plato vehemently confuted: for it was\nthe undue exaltation of the gods, and not their degradation, which\nmust be ascribed to the frauds of poets. Tradition, and no poetic\ntradition, absolutely pointed to the grave of more gods than one.\nBut waiving all _that_ as liable to dispute, one thing we\nknow, from the ancients themselves, as open to no question, that\nall the gods were _born_; were born infants; passed through\nthe stages of helplessness and growth; from all which the inference\nwas but too fatally obvious. Besides, there were grandfathers,\nand even great-grandfathers in the Pantheon: some of these were\nconfessedly superannuated; nay, some had disappeared. Even men,\nwho knew but little of Olympian records, knew this, at least,\nfor certain, that more than one dynasty of gods had passed over\nthe golden stage of Olympus, had made their _exit_, and were\nhurrying onward to oblivion. It was matter of notoriety, also,\nthat all these gods were and had been liable to the taint of sorrow\nfor the death of their earthly children, (as the Homeric Jupiter\nfor Sarpedon, Thetis for Achilles, Calliope, in Euripides, for\nher blooming Rhesus;) all were liable to fear; all to physical\npain; all to anxiety; all to the indefinite menaces of a danger\nnot measurable.[Footnote: it must not be forgotten that all the\nsuperior gods passed through an infancy (as Jove, &c.) or even an\nadolescence, (as Bacchus,) or even a maturity, (as the majority of\nOlympus during the insurrection of the Titans,) surrounded by perils\nthat required not strength only, but artifice, and even abject\nself-concealment to evade.] Looking backwards or looking forwards,\nthe gods beheld enemies that attacked their existence, or modes of\ndecay, (known and unknown,) which gnawed at their roots. All this\nI take the trouble to insist upon: not as though it could be worth\nany man's trouble, at this day, to expose (on its own account) the\nfrailty of the Pantheon, but with a view to the closer estimate of\nthe Divine idea amongst men; and by way of contrast to the power\nof that idea under Christianity: since I contend that, such as is\nthe God of every people, such, in the corresponding features of\ncharacter, will be that people. If the god (like Moloch) is fierce,\nthe people will be cruel; if (like Typhon) a destroying energy,\nthe people will be gloomy; if (like the Paphian Venus) libidinous,\nthe people will be voluptuously effeminate. When the gods are\nperishable, man cannot have the grandeurs of his nature developed:\nwhen the shadow of death sits upon the highest of what man represents\nto himself as celestial, essential blight will sit for ever upon\nhuman aspirations. One thing only remains to be added on this\nsubject: Why were not the ancients more profoundly afflicted by\nthe treacherous gleams of mortality in their gods? How was it that\nthey could forget, for a moment, a revelation so full of misery?\nSince not only the character of man partly depended upon the quality\nof his god, but also and _a fortiori_, his destiny upon the\ndestiny of his god. But the reason of his indifference to the divine\nmortality was--because, at any rate, the pagan man's connection\nwith the gods terminated at his own death. Even selfish men would\nreconcile themselves to an earthquake, which should swallow up all\nthe world; and the most unreasonable man has professed his readiness,\nat all times, to die with a dying universe--_mundo secum pereunte,\nmori_.\n\nBut, _thirdly_, the gods being such, in what relation to them\ndid man stand? It is a fact hidden from the mass of the ancients\nthemselves, but sufficiently attested, that there was an ancient\nand secret enmity between the whole family of the gods and the\nhuman race. This is confessed by Herodotus as a persuasion spread\nthrough some of the nations amongst which he travelled: there was\na sort of truce, indeed, between the parties; temples, with their\nreligious services, and their votive offerings, recorded this truce.\nBut below all these appearances lay deadly enmity, to be explained\nonly by one who should know the mysterious history of both parties\nfrom the eldest times. It is extraordinary, however, that Herodotus\nshould rely, for this account, upon the belief of distant nations, when\nthe same belief was so deeply recorded amongst his own countrymen\nin the sublime story of Prometheus.  Much[Footnote: not all: for part\nwas due to the obstinate concealment from Jupiter, by Prometheus,\nof the danger which threatened his throne in a coming generation.]\nof the sufferings endured by Prometheus was on account of man,\nwhom he had befriended; and, _by_ befriending, had defeated\nthe malignity of Jove.  According to some, man was even created by\nPrometheus: but no accounts, until lying Platonic philophers arose,\nin far later times, represented man as created by Jupiter.\n\nNow let us turn to Christianity; pursuing it through the functions\nwhich it exercises in common with Paganism, and also through those\nwhich it exercises separately and incommunicably.\n\nI. As to the _Idea of God_,--how great was the chasm dividing\nthe Hebrew God from all gods of idolatrous birth, and with what\nstarry grandeur this revelation of _Supreme_ deity must have\nwheeled upwards into the field of human contemplation, when first\nsurmounting the steams of earth-born heathenism, I need not impress\nupon any Christian audience. To their _knowledge_ little\ncould be added. Yet to _know_ is not always to _feel:_ and\nwithout a correspondent depth of feeling, there is in moral\ncases no effectual knowledge. Not the understanding is sufficient\nupon such ground, but that which the Scriptures in their profound\nphilosophy entitle the 'understanding heart.' And perhaps few readers\nwill have adequately appreciated the prodigious change effected in\nthe theatre of the human spirit, by the transition, sudden as the\nexplosion of light, in the Hebrew cosmogony, when, from the caprice\nof a fleshly god, in one hour man mounted to a justice that knew\nno shadow of change; from cruelty, mounted to a love which was\ninexhaustible; from gleams of _essential_ evil, to a holiness\nthat could not be fathomed; from a power and a knowledge, under\nlimitations so merely and obviously human,[Footnote: It is a natural\nthought, to any person who has not explored these recesses of human\ndegradation, that surely the Pagans must have had it in their power\nto invest their gods with all conceivable perfections, quite as\nmuch as we that are _not_ Pagans. The thing wanting to the\nPagans, he will think, was the _right_: otherwise as regarded\nthe _power_.] to the same agencies lying underneath creation,\nas a root below a plant. Not less awful in power was the transition\nfrom the limitations of space and time to ubiquity and eternity,\nfrom the familiar to the mysterious, from the incarnate to the\nspiritual.  These enormous transitions were fitted to work changes\nof answering magnitude in the human spirit. The reader can hardly\nmake any mistake as to this. He _must_ concede the changes.\nWhat he will be likely to misconceive, unless he has reflected,\nis--the immensity of these changes. And another mistake, which he\nis even more likely to make, is this: he will imagine that a new\nidea, even though the idea of an object so vast as God, cannot\nbecome the ground of any revolution more than intellectual--cannot\nrevolutionize the moral and active principles in man, consequently\ncannot lay the ground of any political movement. We shall see. But\nnext, that is,--\n\nII. Secondly, as to the idea of man's relation to God, this, were\nit capable of disjunction, would be even more of a revolutionary\nidea than the idea of God. But the one idea is enlinked with the\nother. In Paganism, as I have said, the higher you ascend towards\nthe original fountains of the religion, the more you leave behind\nthe frauds, forgeries, and treacheries of philosophy; so much the\nmore clearly you descry the odious truth--that man stood in the\nrelation of a superior to his gods, as respected all moral qualities\nof any value, but in the relation of an inferior as respected\nphysical power.  This was a position of the two parties fatal, by\nitself, to all grandeur of moral aspirations. Whatever was good\nor corrigibly bad, man saw associated with weakness; and power was\nsealed and guaranteed to absolute wickedness.  The evil disposition\nin man to worship success, was strengthened by this mode of superiority\nin the gods. Merit was disjoined from prosperity. Even merit of a\nlower class, merit in things morally indifferent, was not so decidedly\non the side of the gods as to reconcile man to the reasonableness\nof their yoke.  They were compelled to acquiesce in a government\nwhich they did not regard as just. The gods were stronger, but not\nmuch; they had the unfair advantage of standing over the heads of\nmen, and of wings for flight or for manoeuvring. Yet even so, it\nwas clearly the opinion of Homer's age, that, in a fair fight, the\ngods might have been found liable to defeat. The gods again were\ngenerally beautiful: but not more so than the _elite_ of\nmankind; else why did these gods, both male and female, continually\npersecute our race with their odious love? which love, be it\nobserved, uniformly brought ruin upon its objects. Intellectually\nthe gods were undoubtedly below men. They pretended to no great\nworks in philosophy, in legislation, or in the fine arts, except\nonly that, as to one of these arts, viz. poetry, a single god\nvaunted himself greatly in simple ages. But he attempted neither a\ntragedy nor an epic poem. Even in what he did attempt, it is worth\nwhile to follow his career. His literary fate was what might have\nbeen expected. After the Persian war, the reputation of his verses\nrapidly decayed.  Wits arose in Athens, who laughed so furiously\nat his style and his metre, in the Delphic oracles, that at length\nsome echoes of their scoffing began to reach Delphi; upon which\nthe god and his inspired ministers became sulky, and finally took\nrefuge in prose, as the only shelter they could think of from the\ncaustic venom of Athenian malice.\n\nThese were the miserable relations of man to the Pagan gods. Every\nthing, which it is worth doing at all, man could do better. Now it\nis some feature of alleviation in a servile condition, if the lord\nappears by natural endowments superior to his slave; or at least\nit embitters the degradation of slavery, if he does _not_.\nGreatly, therefore, must human interests have suffered, had this\njealous approximation of the two parties been the sole feature\nnoticeable in the relations between them. But there was a worse.\nThere was an original enmity between man and the Pantheon; not the\nsort of enmity which we Christians ascribe to our God; _that_\nis but a figure of speech: and even there is a derivative enmity;\nan enmity founded on something in man _subsequent_ to his\ncreation, and having a ransom annexed to it. But the enmity of the\nheathen gods was original--that is, to the very nature of man, and\nas though man had in some stage of his career been their rival;\nwhich indeed he was, if we adopt Milton's hypothesis of the gods\nas ruined angels, and of man as created to supply the vacancy thus\narising in heaven.\n\nNow, from this dreadful scheme of relations, between the human and\ndivine, under Paganism, turn to the relations under Christianity.\nIt is remarkable that even here, according to a doctrine current\namongst many of the elder divines, man was naturally superior to\nthe race of beings immediately ranking above him. Jeremy Taylor\nnotices the obscure tradition, that the angelic order was, by\noriginal constitution, inferior to man; but this original precedency\nhad been reversed for the present, by the fact that man, in his\nhigher nature, was morally ruined, whereas the angelic race had not\nforfeited the perfection of _their_ nature, though otherwise\nan inferior nature. Waiving a question so inscrutable as this, we\nknow, at least, that no allegiance or homage is required from man\ntowards this doubtfully superior race. And when man first finds\nhimself called upon to pay tributes of this nature as to a being\ninimitably his superior, he is at the same moment taught by a\nrevelation that this awful superior is the same who created him,\nand that in a sense more than figurative, he himself is the child\nof God. There stand the two relations, as declared in Paganism and\nin Christianity,--both probably true. In the former, man is the\nessential enemy of the gods, though sheltered by some conventional\narrangement; in the latter, he is the son of God.  In his own image\nGod made him; and the very central principle of his religion is,\nthat God for a great purpose assumed his own human nature; a mode\nof incarnation which could not be conceivable, unless through\nsome divine principle common to the two natures, and forming the\n_nexus_ between them.\n\nWith these materials it is, and others resembling these, that\nChristianity has carried forward the work of human progression. The\nethics of Christianity it was,--new ethics and unintelligible, in\na degree as yet but little understood, to the old pagan nations,--which\nfurnished the rudder, or guidance, for a human revolution; but the\nmysteries of Christianity it was,--new Eleusinian shows, presenting\nGod under a new form and aspect, presenting man under a new relation\nto God,--which furnished the oars and sails, the moving forces,\nfor the advance of this revolution.\n\nIt was my intention to have shown how this great idea of man's\nrelation to God, connected with the previous idea of God, had first\ncaused the state of _slavery_ to be regarded as an evil. Next,\nI proposed to show how _charitable institutions_, not one of\nwhich existed in pagan ages, hospitals, and asylums of all classes,\nhad arisen under the same idea brooding over man from age to\nage. Thirdly, I should have attempted to show, that from the same\nmighty influence had grown up a _social_ influence of woman,\nwhich did not exist in pagan ages, and will hereafter be applied to\ngreater purposes.  But, for want of room, I confine myself to saying\na few words on war, and the mode in which it will be extinguished\nby Christianity.\n\nWAR.--This is amongst the foremost of questions that concern\nhuman progress, and it is one which, of all great questions, (the\nquestion of slavery not excepted, nor even the question of the\nslave-_trade_,) has travelled forward the most rapidly into\npublic favor.  Thirty years ago, there was hardly a breath stirring\nagainst war, as the sole natural resource of national anger or\nnational competition. Hardly did a wish rise, at intervals, in that\ndirection, or even a protesting sigh, over the calamities of war.\nAnd if here and there a contemplative author uttered such a sigh,\nit was in the spirit of mere hopeless sorrow, that mourned over\nan evil apparently as inalienable from man as hunger, as death, as\nthe frailty of human expectations. Cowper, about sixty years ago,\nhad said,\n\n\n'War is a game which, were their subjects wise,\nKings would not play at.'\n\n\nBut Cowper would not have said this, had he not been nearly related\nto the Whig house of Panshanger.  Every Whig thought it a duty\noccasionally to look fiercely at kings, saying--'D--, who's afraid?'\npretty much as a regular John Bull, in the lower classes, expresses\nhis independence by defying the peerage,--'A lord! do you say?\nwhat care I for a lord? I value a lord no more than a button top;'\nwhilst, in fact, he secretly reveres a lord as being usually amongst\nthe most ancient of landed proprietors, and, secondly, amongst\nthe richest. The scourge of kingship was what Cowper glanced at,\nrather than the scourge of war; and in any case the condition which\nhe annexed to his suggestion of relief, is too remote to furnish\nmuch consolation for cynics like myself, or the reader. If war is\nto cease only when subjects become wise, we need not contract the\nscale of our cannon-founderies until the millennium. Sixty years\nago, therefore, the abolition of war looked as unprosperous a\nspeculation as Dr. Darwin's scheme for improving our British climate\nby hauling out all the icebergs from the polar basin in seasons when\nthe wind sate fair for the tropics; by which means these wretched\nannoyers of our peace would soon find themselves in quarters too\nhot to hold them, and would disappear as rapidly as sugar-candy in\nchildren's mouths. Others, however, inclined rather to the Ancient\nMariner's scheme, by shooting an albatross:--\n\n\n'Twas right, said they, such birds to shoot,\nThat bring the frost and snow.'\n\n\nScarcely more hopeless than these crusades against frost, were any\nof the serious plans which had then been proposed for the extirpation\nof war. St. Pierre contributed '_son petite possible_' to\nthis desirable end, in the shape of an essay towards the idea of a\nperpetual peace; Kant, the great professor of Koenigsberg, subscribed\nto the same benevolent scheme _his_ little essay under the same\ntitle; and others in England subscribed a guinea each to the fund\nfor the suppression of war.  These efforts, one and all, spent their\nfire as vainly as Darwin spent his wrath against the icebergs: the\nicebergs are as big and as cold as ever; and war is still, like a\nbasking snake, ready to rear his horrid crest on the least rustling\nin the forests.\n\nBut in quarters more powerful than either purses of gold or\nscholastic reveries, there has, since the days of Kant and Cowper,\nbegun to gather a menacing thundercloud against war. The nations,\nor at least the great leading nations, are beginning to set their\nfaces against it. War, it is felt, comes under the denunciation of\nChristianity, by the havoc which it causes amongst those who bear\nGod's image; of political economy, by its destruction of property\nand human labor; of rational logic, by the frequent absurdity\nof its pretexts. The wrong, which is put forth as the ostensible\nground of the particular war, is oftentimes not of a nature to be\nredressed by war, or is even forgotten in the course of the war;\nand, secondly, the war prevents another course which _might_\nhave redressed the wrong: viz., temperate negotiation, or neutral\narbitration. These things were always true, and, indeed, heretofore\nmore flagrantly true: but the difference, in favor of our own times,\nis, that they are now felt to be true. Formerly, the truths were\nseen, but not felt: they were inoperative truths, lifeless, and\nunvalued. Now, on the other hand, in England, America, France,\nsocieties are rising for making war upon war; and it is a striking\nproof of the progress made by such societies, that, some two years\nago, a deputation from one of them being presented to King Louis\nPhilippe, received from him--not the sort of vague answer which\nmight have been expected, but a sincere one, expressed in very\nencouraging words.[Footnote: and rather presumptuous words, if the\nnewspapers reported them correctly: for they went the length of\npromising, that he separately, as King of the French, would coerce\nEurope into peace. But, from the known good sense of the king, it\nis more probable that he promised his _negative_ aid,--the\naid of not personally concurring to any war which might otherwise\nbe attractive to the French government. ] Ominous to himself this\nmight have been thought by the superstitious, who should happen to\nrecollect the sequel to a French king, of the very earliest movement\nin this direction: the great (but to this hour mysterious) design\nof Henry IV. in 1610, was supposed by many to be a plan of this very\nnature, for enforcing a general and permanent peace on Christendom,\nby means of an armed intervention; and no sooner had it partially\ntranspired through traitorous evidence, or through angry suspicion,\nthan his own assassination followed.\n\nShall I offend the reader by doubting, after all, whether war is\nnot an evil still destined to survive through several centuries?\nGreat progress has already been made. In the two leading nations of\nthe earth, war can no longer be made with the levity which provoked\nCowper's words two generations back. France is too ready to fight\nfor mere bubbles of what she calls glory. But neither in France\nnor England could a war now be undertaken without a warrant from\nthe _popular_ voice. This is a great step in advance; but the\nfinal step for its extinction will be taken by a new and Christian\ncode of international law. This cannot be consummated until Christian\nphilosophy shall have traversed the earth, and reorganized the\nstructure of society.\n\nBut, finally, and (as regards extent, though not as regards intensity\nof effect) far beyond all other political powers of Christianity,\nis the power, the _demiurgic_ power of this religion over\nthe kingdoms of human opinion. Did it ever strike the reader, that\nthe Greeks and Romans, although so frantically republican, and, in\n_some_ of their institutions, so democratic, yet, on the other\nhand, never developed the idea of _representative_ government,\neither as applied to legislation or to administration?  The elective\nprinciple was widely used amongst them. Nay, the nicer casuistries\nof this principle had been latterly discussed. The separate advantages\nof open or of secret voting, had been the subject of keen dispute\nin the political circles of Rome; and the art was well understood\nof disturbing the natural course of the public suffrage, by varying\nthe modes of combining the voters under the different forms of the\nComitia. Public authority and jurisdiction were created and modified\nby the elective principle; but never was this principle applied to\nthe creation or direction of public opinion. The senate of Rome,\nfor instance, like our own sovereign, represented the national\nmajesty, and, to a certain degree, continued to do so for centuries\nafter this majesty had received a more immediate representative\nin the person of the reigning Caesar. The senate, like our own\nsovereign, represented the grandeur of the nation, the hospitality\nof the nation to illustrious strangers, and the gratitude of the\nnation in the distribution of honors. For the senate continued to\nbe the fountain of honors, even to Caesar himself: the titles of\nGermanicus, Britannicus, Dalmaticus, &c. (which may be viewed as\npeerages,) the privilege of precedency, the privilege of wearing\na laurel diadem, &c. (which may be viewed as the Garter, Bath,\nThistle,) all were honors conferred by the senate. But the senate,\nno more than our own sovereign ever represented, by any one act or\nfunction, the public opinion. How was this? Strange, indeed, that\nso mighty a secret as that of delegating public opinions to the\ncustody of elect representatives, a secret which has changed the\nface of the world, should have been missed by nations applying so\nvast an energy to the whole theory of public administration. But\nthe truth, however paradoxical, is, that in Greece and Rome no body\nof public opinions existed that could have furnished a standing ground\nfor adverse parties, or that consequently could have required to be\nrepresented.  In all the dissensions of Rome, from the secessions\nof the Plebs to the factions of the Gracchi, of Marius and Sylla,\nof Caesar and Pompey; in all the \u03c2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 of the Grecian\nrepublics,--the contest could no more be described as a contest of\nopinion, than could the feuds of our buccaneers in the seventeenth\ncentury, when parting company, or fighting for opposite principles\nof dividing the general booty. One faction has, another sought\nto have, a preponderant share of power: but these struggles never\ntook the shape, even in pretence, of differences that moved through\nthe conflict of principles.  The case was always the simple one of\npower matched against power, faction against faction, usage against\ninnovation. It was not that the patricians deluded themselves by\nany speculative views into the refusal of intermarriages with the\nplebeians: it was not as upon any opinion that they maintained the\ncontest, (such as at this day divides ourselves from the French upon\nthe question of opinion with regard to the social rank of literary\nmen) but simply as upon a fact: they appealed to evidences not to\nspeculations; to usage, not to argument. They were in possession,\nand fought against change, not as inconsistent with a theory, but\nas hostility to an interest. In the contest of Caesar with the\noligarchic knavery of Cicero, Cato, and Pompey, no possible exercise\nof representative functions (had the people possessed them) could\nhave been applied beneficially to the settlement of the question at\nissue. Law, and the abuses of law, good statutes and evil customs,\nhad equally thrown the public power into a settlement fatal to the\npublic welfare. Not any decay of public virtue, but increase of\npoverty amongst the inferior citizens, had thrown the suffrages,\nand consequently the honors and powers of the state, into the hands\nof some forty or fifty houses, rich enough to bribe, and bribing\nsystematically. Caesar, undertaking to correct a state of disease\nwhich would else have convulsed the republic every third year\nby civil war, knew that no arguments could be available against a\ncompetition of mere interests. The remedy lay, not through opposition\nspeeches in the senate, or from the rostra,--not through pamphlets\nor journals,--but through a course of intense cudgelling.\nThis he happily accomplished; and by that means restored Rome for\ncenturies,--not to the aspiring condition which she once held,\nbut to an immunity from annual carnage, and in other respects to\na condition of prosperity which, if less than during her popular\nstate, was greater than any else attainable after that popular state\nhad become impossible, from changes in the composition of society.\n\nHere, and in all other critical periods of ancient republics,\nwe shall find that opinions did not exist as the grounds of feud,\nnor could by any dexterity have been applied to the settlement of\nfeuds. Whereas, on the other hand, with ourselves for centuries,\nand latterly with the French, no public contest has arisen, or does\nnow exist, without fighting its way through every stage of advance\nby appeals to public opinion. If, for instance, an improved tone of\npublic feeling calls for a gradual mitigation of army punishments,\nthe quarrel becomes instantly an intellectual one: and much information\nis brought forward, which throws light upon human nature generally.\nBut in Rome, such a discussion would have been stopped summarily,\nas interfering with the discretional power of the Praetorium. To\ntake the _vitis_, or cane, from the hands of the centurion,\nwas a perilous change; but, perilous or not, must be committed to\nthe judgment of the particular imperator, or of his legatus. The\nexecutive business of the Roman exchequer, again, could not have\nbeen made the subject of public discussion; not only because no\nsufficient material for judgment could, under the want of a public\npress, have been gathered, except from the parties interested in\nall its abuses, but also because these parties (a faction amongst\nthe equestrian order) could have effectually overthrown any\ncounter-faction formed amongst parties not personally _affected_\nby the question.  The Roman institution of _clientela_--which\nhad outlived its early uses--does any body imagine that this was\nopen to investigation? The influence of murderous riots would easily\nhave been brought to bear upon it, but not the light of public\nopinion. Even if public opinion could have been evoked in those\ndays, or trained to combined action, insuperable difficulties would\nhave arisen in adjusting its force to the necessities of the Roman\nprovinces and allies. Any arrangement that was practicable, would\nhave obtained an influence for these parties, either dangerous\nto the supreme section of the empire, or else nugatory for each\nof themselves. It is a separate consideration, that through total\ndefect of cheap instruments for communication, whether personally\nor in the way of thought, public opinion must always have moved in\nthe dark: what I chiefly assert is, that the feuds bearing at all\nupon public interests, never _did_ turn, or could have turned,\nupon any collution of opinions. And two things must strengthen the\nreader's conviction upon this point, viz. first, that no public\nmeetings (such as with us carry on the weight of public business\nthroughout the empire) were ever called in Rome; secondly, that\nin the regular and 'official' meetings of the people, no social\ninterest was ever discussed, but only some political interest.\n\nNow, on the other hand, amongst ourselves, every question, that is\nlarge enough to engage public interest, though it should begin as\na mere comparison of strength with strength, almost immediately\ntravels forward into a comparison of right with rights, or of duty\nwith duty.  A mere fiscal question of restraint upon importation\nfrom this or that particular quarter, passes into a question of\ncolonial rights. Arrangements of convenience for the management\nof the pauper, or the debtor, or the criminal, or the war-captive,\nbecome the occasions of profound investigations into the rights\nof persons occupying those relations. Sanatory ordinances for the\nprotection of public health; such as quarantine, fever hospitals,\ndraining, vaccination, &c., connect themselves, in the earliest\nstages of their discussion, with the general consideration of the\nduties which the state owes to its subjects. If education is to\nbe promoted by public counsels, every step of the inquiry applies\nitself to the consideration of the knowledge to be communicated,\nand of the limits within which any section of religious partisanship\ncan be safely authorized to interfere. If coercion, beyond the\nwarrant of the ordinary law, is to be applied as a remedy for local\noutrages, a tumult of opinions arises instantly, as to the original\ncauses of the evil, as to the sufficiency of the subsisting laws\nto meet its pressure, and as to the modes of connecting enlarged\npowers in the magistrate with the _minimum_ of offence to the\ngeneral rights of the subject.\n\nEverywhere, in short, some question of duty and responsibility\narises to face us in any the smallest public interest that _can_\nbecome the subject of public opinion.  Questions, in fact, that fall\nshort of this dignity; questions that concern public convenience\nonly, and do not wear any moral aspect, such as the bullion question,\nnever _do_ become subjects of public opinion. It cannot be\nsaid in which direction lies the bias of public opinion.  In the\nvery possibility of interesting the public judgment, is involved\nthe certainty of wearing some relation to moral principles. Hence\nthe ardor of our public disputes; for no man views, without concern,\na great moral principle darkened by party motives, or placed in risk\nby accident: hence the dignity and benefit of our public disputes;\nhence, also, their ultimate relation to the Christian faith. We\ndo not, indeed, in these days, as did our homely ancestors in the\nsixteenth and seventeenth centuries, cite texts of Scripture as\nthemes for senatorial commentary or _exegesis_; but the virtual\nreference to scriptural principles is now a thousand times more\nfrequent. The great principles of Christian morality are now so\ninterwoven with our habits of thinking, that we appeal to them no\nlonger as scriptural authorities, but as the natural suggestions\nof a sound judgment. For instance, in the case of any wrong offered\nto the Hindoo races, now so entirely dependent upon our wisdom\nand justice, we British [Footnote: It may be thought that, in the\nprosecution of Verres, the people of Rome acknowledged something\nof the same high responsibility. Not at all. The case came before\nRome, not as a case of injury to a colonial child, whom the general\nmother was bound to protect and avenge; but as an appeal, by way of\nspecial petition, from Sicilian clients. It was no grand political\nmovement, but simply judicial. Verres was an ill-used man and the\nvictim of private intrigues. Or, whatever _he_ might be, Rome\ncertainly sate upon the cause, not in any character of maternal\nprotectress, taking up voluntarily the support of the weak, but\nas a sheriff assessing damages in a case forced upon his court by\nthe plaintiff.] immediately, by our solemnity of investigation,\ntestify our sense of the deep responsibility to India with which\nour Indian supremacy has invested us. We make no mention of the\nChristian oracles. Yet where, then, have we learned this doctrine\nof far-stretching responsibility?  In all pagan systems of morality,\nthere is the vaguest and slightest appreciation of such relations\nas connect us with our colonies. But, from the profound philosophy\nof Scripture, we have learned that no relations whatever, not even\nthose of property, can connect us with even a brute animal, but\nthat we contract concurrent obligations of justice and mercy.\n\nIn this age, then, public interests move and prosper through conflicts\nof opinion. Secondly, as I have endeavored to show, public opinion\ncannot settle, powerfully, upon any question that is _not_\nessentially a moral question. And, thirdly, in all moral questions,\nwe, of Christian nations, are compelled, by habit and training, as\nwell as other causes, to derive our first principles, consciously\nor not, from the Scriptures. It is, therefore, through the\n_doctrinality_ of our religion that we derive arms for all\nmoral questions; and it is as moral questions that any political\ndisputes much affect us, The daily conduct, therefore, of all\ngreat political interests, throws us unconsciously upon the first\nprinciples which we all derive from Christianity. And, in this\nrespect, we are more advantageously placed, by a very noticeable\ndistinction, than the professors of the two other doctrinal religions.\nThe Koran having pirated many sentiments from the Jewish and the\nChristian systems, could not but offer some rudiments of moral\njudgment; yet, because so much of these rudiments is stolen, the\nwhole is incoherent, and does not form a _system_ of ethics.\nIn Judaism, again, the special and insulated situation of the Jews\nhas unavoidably impressed an exclusive bias upon its principles. In\nboth codes the rules are often of restricted and narrow application.\nBut, in the Christian Scriptures, the rules are so comprehensive and\nlarge as uniformly to furnish the major proposition of a syllogism;\nwhilst the particular act under discussion, wearing, perhaps, some\nmodern name, naturally is not directly mentioned: and to bring\nthis, in the minor proposition, under the principle contained\nin the major, is a task left to the judgment of the inquirer in\neach particular case. Something is here intrusted to individual\nunderstanding; whereas in the Koran, from the circumstantiality\nof the rule, you are obliged mechanically to rest in the letter of\nthe precept. The Christian Scriptures, therefore, not only teach,\nbut train the mind to habits of _self_-teaching in all moral\nquestions, by enforcing more or less of activity in applying\nthe rule; that is, in subsuming the given case proposed under the\nscriptural principle.\n\nHence it is certain, and has been repeatedly illustrated, that whilst\nthe Christian faith, in collision with others, would inevitably\nrouse to the most active fermentation of minds, the Mahometan (as\nalso doctrinal but unsystematical) would have the same effect, in\nkind, but far feebler in degree; and an idolatrous religion would\nhave no such effect at all. Agreeably to this scale, some years ago,\na sect of reforming or fanatical Mahometans, in Bengal,[Footnote:\nAt Baraset, if I remember rightly.] commenced a persecution of the\nsurrounding Hindoos. At length, a reaction took place on the part\nof the idolaters, but in what temper? Bitter enough, and so far\nalarming as to call down a government interference with troops and\nartillery, but yet with no signs of _religious_ retaliation.\nThat was a principle of movement which the Hindoos could not\nunderstand: their retaliation was simply to the personal violence\nthey had suffered.  Such is the inertia of a mere _cultus_.\nAnd, in the other extreme, if we Christians, in our intercourse\nwith both Hindoos and Mahometans, were not sternly reined up by the\nvigilance of the local governments, no long time would pass before\nall India would be incurably convulsed by disorganizing feuds.\n\n\n\n\nPROTESTANTISM. [Footnote: A Vindication of Protestant Principles.\nBy Phileleutheros Anglicanus. London: Parker. 1847.]\n\n[1847.]\n\n\nThe work whose substance and theme are thus briefly abstracted\nis, at this moment, making a noise in the world. It is ascribed by\nreport to two bishops--not jointly, but alternatively--in the sense\nthat, if one did _not_ write the book, the other _did_.\nThe Bishops of Oxford and St. David's, Wilberforce and Thirlwall,\nare the two pointed at by the popular finger; and, in some quarters,\na third is suggested, viz., Stanley, Bishop of Norwich. The betting,\nhowever, is altogether in favor of Oxford. So runs the current of\n_public_ gossip. But the public is a bad guesser, 'stiff in\nopinion' it is, and almost 'always in the wrong.' Now let _me_\nguess.  When I had read for ten minutes, I offered a bet of seven\nto one (no takers) that the author's name began with H. Not out of\nany love for that amphibious letter; on the contrary, being myself\nwhat Professor Wilson calls a _hedonist_, or philosophical\nvoluptuary, and murmuring, with good reason, if a rose leaf lies\ndoubled below me, naturally I murmur at a letter that puts one to\nthe expense of an aspiration, forcing into the lungs an extra charge\nof raw air on frosty mornings.  But truth is truth, in spite of\nfrosty air. And yet, upon further reading, doubts gathered upon\nmy mind. The H. that I mean is an Englishman; now it happens that\nhere and there a word, or some peculiarity in using a word, indicates,\nin this author, a Scotchman; for instance, the expletive 'just,'\nwhich so much infests Scotch phraseology, written or spoken, at\npage 1; elsewhere the word '_short-comings_,' which, being\nhorridly tabernacular, and such that no gentleman could allow himself\nto touch it without gloves, it is to be wished that our Scottish\nbrethren would resign, together with '_backslidings_,' to the\nuse of field preachers.  But worse, by a great deal, and not even\nintelligible in England, is the word _thereafter_, used as an\nadverb of time, _i.e._, as the correlative of _hereafter_.\n_Thereafter_, in pure vernacular English, bears a totally\ndifferent sense. In 'Paradise Lost,' for instance, having heard\nthe character of a particular angel, you are told that he spoke\n_thereafter_, _i.e._, spoke agreeably to that character.\n'How a score of sheep, Master Shallow?' The answer is, '_Thereafter_\nas they be.' Again, 'Thereafter as a man sows shall he reap.' The\nobjections are overwhelming to the Scottish use of the word; first,\nbecause already in Scotland it is a barbarism transplanted from\nthe filthy vocabulary of attorneys, locally called _writers_;\nsecondly, because in England it is not even intelligible, and,\nwhat is worse still, sure to be _mis_-intelligible. And yet,\nafter all, these exotic forms may be a mere blind. The writer is,\nperhaps, purposely leading us astray with his '_thereafters_,'\nand his horrid '_short-comings_.' Or, because London newspapers,\nand Acts of Parliament, are beginning to be more and more polluted\nwith these barbarisms, he may even have caught them unconsciously.\n\nAnd, on looking again at one case of '_thereafter_,' viz.  at\npage 79, it seems impossible to determine whether he uses it in the\nclassical English sense, or in the sense of leguleian barbarism.\nThis question of authorship, meantime, may seem to the reader\nof little moment. Far from it! The weightier part of the interest\ndepends upon that very point. If the author really _is_\na bishop, or supposing the public rumor so far correct as that he\nis a man of distinction in the English church, then, and by that\nsimple fact, this book, or this pamphlet, interesting at any rate\nfor itself, becomes separately interesting through its authorship,\nso as to be the most remarkable phenomenon of the day; and why?\nBecause the most remarkable expression of a movement, accomplished\nand proceeding in a quarter that, if any on this earth, might be\nthought sacred from change. Oh, fearful are the motions of time,\nwhen suddenly lighted up to a retrospect of thirty years! Pathetic\nare the ruins of time in its slowest advance! Solemn are the\nprospects, so new and so incredible, which time unfolds at every\nturn of its wheeling flight! Is it come to this? Could any man, one\ngeneration back, have anticipated that an English dignitary, and\nspeaking on a very delicate religious question, should deliberately\nappeal to a writer confessedly infidel, and proud of being an\ninfidel, as a 'triumphant' settler of Christian scruples?  But if\nthe infidel is right, a point which I do not here discuss--but if\nthe infidel is a man of genius, a point which I do not deny--was\nit not open to cite him, even though the citer were a bishop? Why,\nyes--uneasily one answers, _yes_; but still the case records\na strange alteration, and still one could have wished to hear such\na doctrine, which ascribes human infirmity (nay, human criminality)\nto _every_ book of the Bible, uttered by anybody rather than\nby a father of the Church, and guaranteed by anybody rather than\nby an infidel, in triumph. A boy may fire his pistol unnoticed;\nbut a sentinel, mounting guard in the dark, must remember the\ntrepidation that will follow any shot from _him_, and the\ncertainty that it will cause all the stations within hearing to get\nunder arms immediately. Yet why, if this bold opinion _does_\ncome from a prelate, he being but one man, should it carry so alarming\na sound? Is the whole bench of bishops bound and compromised by\nthe audacity of any one amongst its members? Certainly not. But\nyet such an act, though it should be that of a rash precursor,\nmarks the universal change of position; there is ever some sympathy\nbetween the van and the rear of the same body at the same time;\nand the boldest could not have dared to go ahead so rashly, if the\nrearmost was not known to be pressing forward to his support, far\nmore closely than thirty years ago he could have done. There have\nbeen, it is true, heterodox professors of divinity and free-thinking\nbishops before now. England can show a considerable list of such\npeople--even Rome has a smaller list. Rome, that weeds all libraries,\nand is continually burning books, in effigy, by means of her vast\n_Index Expurgatorius_,[Footnote: A question of some interest\narises upon the casuistical construction of this Index. We, that\nare not by name included, may we consider ourselves indirectly\nlicensed? Silence, I should think, gives consent. And if it wasn't\nthat the present Pope, being a horrid Radical, would be sure to\nblackball _me_ as an honest Tory, I would send him a copy of\nmy _Opera Omnia_, requesting his Holiness to say, by return of\npost, whether I ranked amongst the chaff winnowed by St.  Peter's\nflail, or had his gracious permission to hold myself amongst the pure\nwheat gathered into the Vatican garner.] which index, continually,\nshe is enlarging by successive supplements, needs also an _Index\nExpurgatorius_ for the catalogue of her prelates.  Weeds there\nare in the very flower-garden and conservatory of the church. Fathers\nof the church are no more to be relied on, as safe authorities,\nthan we rascally lay authors, that notoriously will say anything.\nAnd it is a striking proof of this amongst our English bishops,\nthat the very man who, in the last generation, most of all won the\npublic esteem as the champion of the Bible against Tom Paine, was\nprivately known amongst us connoisseurs in heresy (that are always\nprying into ugly secrets) to be the least orthodox thinker, one or\nother, amongst the whole brigade of fifteen thousand contemporary\nclerks who had subscribed the Thirty-nine Articles. Saving your\npresence, reader, his lordship was no better than a bigoted Socinian,\nwhich, in a petty diocese that he never visited, and amongst South\nWelshmen, that are all incorrigible Methodists, mattered little,\nbut would have been awkward had he come to be Archbishop of York;\nand that he did _not_, turned upon the accident of a few weeks\ntoo soon, by which the Fates cut short the thread of the Whig\nministry in 1807. Certainly, for a Romish or an English bishop\nto be a Socinian is _un peu fort_.  But I contend that it is\nquite possible to be far less heretical, and yet dangerously bold;\nyes, upon the free and spacious latitudes, purposely left open by the\nEnglish Thirty-nine Articles (ay, or by any Protestant Confession),\nto plant novelties not less startling to religious ears than\nSocinianism itself. Besides (which adds to the shock), the dignitary\nnow before us, whether bishop or no bishop, does not write in the\ntone of a conscious heretic; or, like Archdeacon Blackburne[Footnote:\nHe was the author of _The Confessional,_ which at one time\nmade a memorable ferment amongst all those who loved as sons, or\nwho hated as nonconformists, the English Establishment. This was\nhis most popular work, but he wrote many others in the same temper,\nthat fill six or seven octavos.] of old, in a spirit of hostility\nto his own fellow-churchmen; but, on the contrary, in the tone\nof one relying upon support from his clerical brethren, he stands\nforward as expositor and champion of views now prevailing amongst\nthe _elite_ of the English Church.  So construed, the book\nis, indeed, a most extraordinary one, and exposes a history that\nalmost shocks one of the strides made in religious speculation.\nOpinions change slowly and stealthily. The steps of the changes are\ngenerally continuous; but sometimes it happens that the notice of\nsuch steps, the publication of such changes, is not continuous,\nthat it comes upon us _per saltum_, and, consequently, with\nthe stunning effect of an apparent treachery. Every thoughtful man\nraises his hands with an involuntary gesture of awe at the revolutions\nof so revolutionary an age, when thus summoned to the spectacle\nof an English prelate serving a piece of artillery against what\nonce were fancied to be main outworks of religion, and at a station\nsometimes considerably in advance of any occupied by Voltaire.[Footnote:\nLet not the reader misunderstand me; I do not mean that the clerical\nwriter now before us (bishop or not bishop) is more hostile to\nreligion than Voltaire, or is hostile at all. On the contrary, he\nis, perhaps, profoundly religious, and he writes with neither levity\nnor insincerity. But this conscientious spirit, and this piety, do\nbut the more call into relief the audacity of his free-thinking--do\nbut the more forcibly illustrate the prodigious changes wrought by\ntime, and by the contagion from secular revolutions, in the spirit\nof religious philosophy.]\n\nIt is this audacity of speculation, I apprehend, this _etalage_\nof bold results, rather than any success in their development, which\nhas fixed the public attention.  Development, indeed, applied to\nphilosophic problems, or research applied to questions of erudition,\nwas hardly possible within so small a compass as one hundred and\nseventeen pages, for _that_ is the extent of the work, except\nas regards the notes, which amount to seventy-four pages more. Such\nbrevity, on such a subject, is unseasonable, and almost culpable.\nOn such a subject as the Philosophy of Protestantism--'_satius\nerat silere, quam parcius, dicere_.' Better were absolute silence,\nmore respectful as regards the theme, less tantalizing as regards\nthe reader, than a style of discussion so fragmentary and so rapid.\n\nBut, before we go farther, what are we to call this bold man? One\nmust have some name for a man that one is reviewing; and, as he\ncomes abroad _incognito_, it is difficult to see what name\n_could_ have any propriety. Let me consider: there are three\nbishops in the field, Mr. H., and the Scotchman--that makes five.\nBut every one of these, you say, is represented equally by the\nname in the title--_Phileleutheros Anglicanus_.  True, but\n_that's_ as long as a team of horses.  If it had but _Esquire_\nat the end, it would measure against a Latin Hendecasyllable verse.\nI'm afraid that we must come at last to _Phil_. I've been\nseeking to avoid it, for it's painful to say 'Jack' or 'Dick'\neither _to_ or _of_ an ecclesiastical great gun. But if\nsuch big wigs _will_ come abroad in disguise, and with names\nas long as Fielding's Hononchrononthononthologus, they must submit\nto be hustled by pickpockets and critics, and to have _their_\nnames docked as well as profane authors.\n\n_Phil,_ then, be it--that's settled. Now, let us inquire what\nit is that _Phil._ has been saying, to cause such a sensation\namongst the Gnostics. And, to begin at the beginning, what\nis _Phil.'s_ capital object? _Phil._ shall state it himself--these\nare his opening words:--\n\n\n'In the following pages we propose to vindicate the fundamental\nand inherent _principles_ of Protestantism.'\n\n\nGood; but what _are_ the fundamental principles of Protestantism?\n'They are,' says _Phil._, 'the sole sufficiency of Scripture,'[Footnote:\nThis is much too elliptical a way of expressing the Protestant\nmeaning. Sufficiency for what? 'Sufficiency for salvation' is the\nphrase of many, and I think elsewhere of _Phil_. But _that_ is\nobjectionable on more grounds than one; it is redundant, and it is\naberrant from the true point contemplated. _Sufficiency for itself,\nwithout alien helps_, is the thing contemplated. The Greek\n_autarkeia_, self-sufficiency, or, because that phrase, in English,\nhas received a deflexion towards a bad meaning, the word _self-\nufficingness_ might answer; sufficiency for the exposition of its\nown most secret meaning, out of fountains within itself; needing,\ntherefore, neither the supplementary aids of tradition, on the one\nhand, nor the complementary aids on the other, (in the event of\nunprovided cases, or of dilemmas arising,) from the infallibility\nof a _living_ expounder.] the right of private judgment in its\ninterpretation, and the authority of individual conscience in\nmatters of religion.' Errors of logic show themselves more often\nin a man's terminology, and his antithesis, and his subdivisions,\nthan anywhere else.  _Phil._ goes on to make this distinction,\nwhich brings out his imperfect conception. 'We,' says he (and, by\nthe way, if _Phil._ is _we_, then it must he my duty to call him\n_they_), 'we do not propose to defend the varieties of _doctrine_\nheld by the different communities of Protestants.' Why, no; that\nwould be a sad task for the most skilful of funambulists or\ntheological tumblers, seeing that many of these varieties stand\nrelated to each other as categorical affirmative and categorical\nnegative: it's heavy work to make _yes_ and _no_ pull together in\nthe same proposition. But this, fortunately for himself, _Phil._\ndeclines. You are to understand that he will not undertake the\ndefence of Protestantism in its _doctrines_, but only in its\n_principles_. That won't do; that antithesis is as hollow as a\ndrum; and, if the objection were verbal only, I would not make it.\nBut the contradistinction fails to convey the real meaning.  It is\nnot that he has falsely expressed his meaning, but that he has\nfalsely developed that meaning to his own consciousness. Not the\nword only is wrong; but the wrong word is put forward for the\nsake of hiding the imperfect idea. What he calls _principles_\nmight almost as well be called _doctrines_; and what he calls\n_doctrines_ as well be called _principles_. Out of these terms,\napart from the rectifications suggested by the context, no man\ncould collect his drift, which is simply this. Protestantism, we\nmust recollect, is not an absolute and self-dependent idea; it\nstands in relation to something antecedent, against which it\nprotests, viz., Papal Rome. And under what phasis does it protest\nagainst Rome? Not against the Christianity of Rome, because every\nProtestant Church, though disapproving a great deal of _that_,\ndisaproves also a great deal in its own sister churches of the\nprotesting household; and because every Protestant Church holds\na great deal of Christian truth, in common with Rome. But what\nfurnishes the matter of protest is--the _deduction of the title_\nupon which Rome plants the right to be church at all. This deduction\nis so managed by Rome as to make herself, not merely a true church\n(which many Protestants grant), but the exclusive church. Now, what\n_Phil._ in effect undertakes to defend is not principles by\npreference to doctrines (for they are pretty nearly the same thing),\nbut the question of title to teach at all, in preference to the\nquestion of what is the thing taught. _There_ is the distinction,\nas I apprehend it. All these terms--'principle,' 'doctrine,' 'system,'\n'theory,' 'hypothesis'--are used nearly always most licentiously, and\nas arbitrarily as a Newmarket jockey selects the colors for his\nriding-dress.  It is true that one shadow of justification offers\nitself for _Phil.'s_ distinction. All principles are doctrines,\nbut all doctrines are not principles; which, then, in particular?\nWhy, those properly are principles which contain the _principia_,\nthe beginnings, or starting-points of evolution, out of which\nany system of truth is evolved. Now, it may seem that the very\nstarting-point of our Protestant pretensions is, first of all, to\nargue our _title_ or right to be a church _sui juris_; apparently\nwe must begin by making good our _locus standi_, before we can be\nheard upon our doctrines.  And upon this mode of approach, the\npleadings about the _title_, or right to teach at all, taking\nprecedency of the pleadings about the particular things taught,\nwould be the _principia_, or beginning of the whole process, and\nso far would be entitled by preference to the name of _principles_.\nBut such a mode of approach is merely an accident, and contingent\nupon our being engaged in a polemical discussion of Protestantism\nin relation to Popery. _That_, however, is a pure matter of choice;\nProtestantism may be discussed, 'as though Rome were not, in relation\nto its own absolute merits; and this treatment is the logical\ntreatment, applying itself to what is permanent in the _nature_\nof the object; whereas the other treatment applies itself to what\nis casual and vanishing in the _history_ (or the origin) of Protestantism.\nFor, after all, it would be no great triumph to Protestantism that she\nshould prove her birthright to revolve as a primary planet in the solar\nsystem; that she had the same original right as Rome to wheel about the\ngreat central orb, undegraded to the rank of satellite or secondary\nprojection--if, in the meantime, telescopes should reveal the fact\nthat she was pretty nearly a sandy desert. _What_ a church\nteaches is true or not true, without reference to her independent\nright of teaching; and eventually, when the irritations of earthly\nfeuds and political schisms shall be soothed by time, the philosophy\nof this whole question will take an inverse order. The credentials of\na church will not be put in first, and the quality of her doctrine\ndiscussed as a secondary question. On the contrary, her credentials\nwill be sought _in_ her doctrine. The Protesting Church will\nsay, I have the _right_ to stand separate, because I stand;\nand from my holy teaching I deduce my title to teach. _Jus est ibi\nsummum docendi, ubi est fons purissimus doctrinae_. That inversion\nof the Protestant plea with Rome is even now valid with many; and,\nwhen it becomes universally current, then the _principles_,\nor great beginnings of the controversy, will be transplanted from\nthe _locus_, or centre, where _Phil._ places them, to the very\n_locus_ which he neglects.\n\nThere is another expression of _Phil.'s_ (I am afraid\n_Phil._ is getting angry by this time) to which I object.  He\ndescribes the doctrines held by all the separate Protestant churches\nas doctrines of Protestantism. I would not delay either _Phil._\nor myself for the sake of a trifle; but an impossibility is _not_\na trifle. If from orthodox Turkey you pass to heretic Persia, if\nfrom the rigor of the _Sonnees to the laxity of the _Sheeahs_,\nyou could not, in explaining those schisms, go on to say, 'And\nthese are the doctrines _of Islamism;' for they destroy each\nother. Both are supported by earthly powers; but one only could\nbe supported by central Islamism. So of Calvinism and Arminianism;\nyou cannot call them doctrines _of_ Protestantism, as if growing\nout of some reconciling Protestant principles; one of the two,\nthough not manifested to human eyes in its falsehood, must secretly\nbe false; and a falsehood cannot be a doctrine of Protestantism.\nIt is more accurate to say that the separate creeds of Turkey and\nPersia are _within Mahommedanism; such, viz., as that neither\nexcludes a man from the name of Mussulman; and, again, that Calvinism\nand Arminianism are doctrines _within_ the Protestant Church--as\na church of general toleration for all religious doctrines not\nde-monstrably hostile to any cardinal truth of Christianity.\n\n_Phil.,_ then, we all understand, is not going to traverse the\nvast field of Protestant opinions as they are distributed through\nour many sects; _that_ would be endless; and he illustrates\nthe mazy character of the wilderness over which these sects are\nwandering,\n\n\n  --'ubi passim\n  Palantes error recto de tramite pellit,'\n\n\nby the four cases of--1, the Calvinist; 2, the Newmanite; 3, the\nRomanist;[Footnote: What, amongst Protestant sects? Ay, even so.\nIt's _Phil.'s_ mistake, not mine. He will endeavor to doctor\nthe case, by pleading that he was speaking universally of Christian\nerror; but the position of the clause forbids this plea.  Not\nonly in relation to what immediately precedes, the passage must be\nsupposed to contemplate _Protestant_ error; but the immediate\ninference from it, viz., that 'the world may well be excused for\ndoubting whether there is, after all, so much to be gained by that\nliberty of private judgment, which is the essential characteristic\nof Protestantism; whether it be not, after all, merely a liberty to\nfall into error,' nails _Phil_. to that construction--argues\ntoo strongly that it is an oversight of indolence. _Phil._\nwas sleeping for the moment, which is excusable enough towards the\nend of a book, but hardly in section I. P.S.--I have since observed\n(which _not_ to have observed is excused, perhaps, by the too\ncomplex machinery of hooks and eyes between the text and the notes\ninvolving a double reference--first, to the section; second, to the\nparticular clause of the section) that _Phil._ has not here\ncommitted an inadvertency; or, if he _has,_ is determined\nto fight himself through his inadvertency, rather than break up\nhis quaternion of cases. 'In speaking of Romanism as arising from\na misapplication of Protestant principles; we refer, not to those\nwho were born, but to those who have become members of the Church\nof Rome.' What is the name of those people? And where do they live? I\nhave heard of many who think (and there _are_ cases in which\nmost of us, that meddle with philosophy, are apt to think) occasional\nprinciples of Protestantism available for the defence of certain\nRoman Catholic mysteries too indiscriminately assaulted by the\nProtestant zealot; but, with this exception, I am not aware of any\nparties professing to derive their Popish learnings _from_\nProtestantism; it is _in spite of_ Protestantism, as seeming\nto _them_ not strong enough, or through principles omitted\nby Protestantism, which therefore seems to _them_ not careful\nenough or not impartial enough, that Protestants have lapsed to\nPopery. Protestants have certainly been known to become Papists, not\nthrough Popish arguments, but simply through their own Protestant\nbooks; yet never, that I heard of, through an _affirmative_\nprocess, as though any Protestant argument involved the rudiments\nof Popery, but by a _negative_ process, as fancying the\nProtestant reasons, though lying in the right direction, not going\nfar enough; or, again, though right partially, yet defective as a\nwhole. _Phil._ therefore, seems to me absolutely caught in a\nsort of _Furcae Caudinae_, unless he has a dodge in reserve to\npuzzle us all. In a different point, I, that hold myself a _doctor\nseraphicus_, and also _inexpugnabilis_ upon quillets of\nlogic, justify _Phil._, whilst also I blame him. He defends\nhimself rightly for distinguishing between the Romanist and Newmanite\non the one hand, between the Calvinist and the Evangelican man on\nthe other, though perhaps a young gentleman, commencing his studies\non the _Organon_, will fancy that here he has _Phil._ in a trap,\nfor these distinctions, he will say, do not entirely exclude to\neach other as they ought to do. The class calling itself\nEvangelical, for instance, may also be Calvinistic; the Newmanite\nis not, _therefore_, anti-Romanish. True, says _Phil_.;\nI am quite aware of it. But to be aware of an objection is not\nto answer it. The fact seems to be, that the actual combinations\nof life, not conforming to the truth of abstractions, compel\nus to seeming breaches of logic. It would be right practically\nto distinguish the Radical from the Whig; and yet it might shock\n_Duns_ or _Lombardus_, the _magister sententiarum_, when he came\nto understand that partially the principles of Radicals and Whigs\ncoincide. But, for all that, the logic which distinguishes\nthem is right; and the apparent error must be sought in the fact,\nthat all cases (political or religious) being cases of life, are\n_concretes_, which never conform to the exquisite truth of\nabstractions. Practically, the Radical _is_ opposed to the\nWhig, though casually the two are in conjunction continually; for,\nas _acting_ partisans, they work _from_ different centres,\nand finally, _for_ different results.] 4, the Evangelical\nenthusiast--as holding systems of doctrine, 'no one of which is\ncapable of recommending itself to the favorable opinion of an impartial\njudge.' Impartial! but what Christian _can_ be impartial? To\nbe free from all bias, and to begin his review of sects in that\ntemper, he must begin by being an infidel. Vainly a man endeavors\nto reserve in a state of neutrality any preconceptions that he\nmay have formed for himself, or prepossessions that he may have\ninherited from 'mamma;' he cannot do it any more than he can dismiss\nhis own shadow. And it is strange to contemplate the weakness of\nstrong minds in fancying that they can.  Calvin, whilst amiably\nengaged in hunting Servetus to death, and writing daily letters\nto his friends, in which he expresses his hope that the executive\npower would not think of burning the poor man, since really justice\nwould be quite satisfied by cutting his head off, meets with some\ncorrespondents who conceive (idiots that they were!) even that little\namputation not indispensable.  But Calvin soon settles _their_\nscruples. You don't perceive, he tells them, what this man has been\nabout. When a writer attacks Popery, it's very wrong in the Papists\nto cut his head off; and why? Because he has only been attacking\nerror. But here lies the difference in this case; Servetus had\nbeen attacking the TRUTH. Do you see the distinction, my friends?\nConsider it, and I am sure you will be sensible that this quite\nalters the case. It is shocking, it is perfectly ridiculous,\nthat the Bishop of Rome should touch a hair of any man's head for\ncontradicting _him;_ and why? Because, do you see? _he_\nis wrong. On the other hand, it is evidently agreeable to philosophy,\nthat I, John Calvin, should shave off the hair, and, indeed, the\nhead itself (as I heartily hope[Footnote: The reader may imagine\nthat, in thus abstracting Calvin's epistolary sentiments, I am a\nlittle improving them. Certainly they would bear improvement, but\nthat is not my business.  What the reader sees here is but the\nresult of bringing scattered passages into closer juxtaposition;\nwhilst, as to the strongest (viz., the most sanguinary) sentiments\nhere ascribed to him, it will be a sufficient evidence of my fidelity\nto the literal truth, if I cite three separate sentences. Writing\nto Farrel, he says, '_Spero_ capitale saltern fore judicium.'\nSentence of the court, he _hopes_, will, at any rate, reach\nthe life of Servetus. Die he must, and die he shall. But why should\nhe die a cruel death? \"Paenoe vero atrocitatem remitti cupio.\"\nTo the same purpose, when writing to Sultzer, he expresses his\nsatisfaction in being able to assure him that a principal civic\nofficer of Geneva was, in this case, entirely upright, and animated\nby the most virtuous sentiments.  Indeed! what an interesting\ncharacter! and in what way now might this good man show thia\nbeautiful tenderness of conscience? Why; by a fixed resolve that\nServetus should not in any case escape the catastrophe which I, John\nCalvin, am longing for, ('ut saltem exitum, _quem optamus_,\nnoa fugiat.') Finally, writing to the same Sultzer, he remarks\nthat--when we see the Papists such avenging champions of their own\nsuperstitious fables as not to falter in shedding innocent blood,\n'pudeat Christianos magistratus [as if the Roman Catholic magistrates\nwere not Christians] in tuenda _certa_ veritate nihil prorsus\nhabere animi'--'Christian magistrates ought to be ashamed of\nthemselves for manifesting no energy at all in the vindication of\ntruth undeniable;' yet really since these magistrates had at that\ntime the full design, which design not many days after they executed,\nof maintaining truth by fire and faggot, one does not see the call\nupon them for blushes so very deep as Calvin requires. Hands so\ncrimson with blood might compensate the absence of crimson cheeks.]\nwill be done in this present case) of any man presumptuous enough\nto contradict _me;_ but then, why? For a reason that makes all\nthe difference in the world, and which, one would think, idiocy\nitself could not overlook, viz., that I, John Calvin, am right--right,\nthrough three degrees of comparison--right, righter, or more right,\nrightest, or most right. Calvin fancied that he could demonstrate\nhis own impartiality.\n\nThe self-sufficingness of the Bible, and the right of private\njudgment--here, then, are the two great charters in which Protestantism\ncommences; these are the bulwarks behind which it intrenches itself\nagainst Rome. And it is remarkable that these two great preliminary\nlaws, which soon diverge into fields so different, at the first are\nvirtually one and the same law. The refusal of an oracle alien to\nthe Bible, extrinsic to the Bible, and claiming the sole interpretation\nof the Bible; the refusal of an oracle that reduced the Bible to\na hollow masque, underneath which fraudulently introducing itself\nany earthly voice could mimic a heavenly voice, was in effect to\nrefuse the coercion of this false oracle over each man's conscientious\njudgment; to make the Bible independent of the Pope, was to make man\nindependent of all religious controllers. The _self-sufficingness\nof Scripture_, its independency of any external interpreter,\npassed in one moment into the other great Protestant doctrine of\n_Toleration_. It was but the same triumphal monument under a\nnew angle of sight, the golden and silver faces of the same heraldic\nshield. The very same act which denies the right of interpretation\nto a mysterious Papal phoenix, renewed from generation to generation,\nhaving the antiquity and the incomprehensible omniscience of the\nSimorg in Southey, transferred this right of mere necessity to the\nindividuals of the whole human race. For where else could it have\nbeen lodged? Any attempt in any other direction was but to restore\nthe Papal power in a new impersonation.  Every man, therefore,\nsuddenly obtained the right of interpreting the Bible for himself.\nBut the word '_right_' obtained a new sense. Every man has the\nright, under the Queen's Bench, of publishing an unlimited number\nof metaphysical systems; and, under favor of the same indulgent\nBench, we all enjoy the unlimited right of laughing at him. But not\nthe whole race of man has a right to _coerce_, in the exercise\nof his intellectual rights, the humblest of individuals. The rights\nof men are thus unspeakably elevated; for, being now freed from all\nanxiety, being sacred as merely _legal_ rights, they suddenly\nrise into a new mode of responsibility as _intellectual_\nrights. As a Protestant, every mature man has the same dignified\nright over his own opinions and profession of faith that he has\nover his own hearth.  But his hearth can rarely be abused; whereas\nhis religious system, being a vast kingdom, opening by immeasurable\ngates upon worlds of light and worlds of darkness, now brings him\nwithin a new amenability--called upon to answer new impeachments,\nand to seek for new assistances. Formerly another was answerable\nfor his belief; if that were wrong, it was no fault of his. Now he\nhas new rights, but these have burthened him with new obligations.\nNow he is crowned with the glory and the palms of an intellectual\ncreature, but he is alarmed by the certainty of corresponding\nstruggles. Protestantism it is that has created him into this child\nand heir of liberty; Protestantism it is that has invested him with\nthese unbounded privileges of private judgment, giving him in one\nmoment the sublime powers of a Pope within his own conscience; but\nProtestantism it is that has introduced him to the most dreadful\nof responsibilities.\n\nI repeat that the twin maxims, the columns of Hercules through\nwhich Protestantism entered the great sea of human activities, were\noriginally but two aspects of one law: to deny the Papal control\nover men's conscience being to affirm man's self-control, was,\ntherefore, to affirm man's universal right to toleration, which\nagain implied a corresponding _duty_ of toleration. Under\nthis bi-fronted law, generated by Protestantism, but in its turn\nregulating Protestantism, _Phil._ undertakes to develope all\nthe principles that belong to a Protestant church. The _seasonableness_\nof such an investigation--its critical application to an evil now\nspreading like a fever through Europe--he perceives fully, and in\nthe following terms he expresses this perception:--\n\n\n'That we stand on the brink of a great theological crisis, that\nthe problem must soon be solved, how far orthodox Christianity\nis possible for those who are not behind their age in scholarship\nand science; this is a solemn fact, which may be ignored by the\npartisans of short-sighted bigotry, but which is felt by all, and\nconfessed by most of those who are capable of appreciating its reality\nand importance. The deep Sibylline vaticinations of Coleridge's\nphilosophical mind, the practical working of Arnold's religious\nsentimentalism, and the open acknowledgment of many divines who are\nliving examples of the spirit of the age, have all, in different\nways, foretold the advent of a Church of the Future.'\n\n\nThis is from the preface, p. ix., where the phrase, _Church of the\nFuture_, points to the Prussian minister's (Bunsen's) _Kirche\nder Zukunft;_ but in the body of the work, and not far from its\nclose, (p. 114,) he recurs to this crisis, and more circumstantially.\n\n_Phil._ embarrasses himself and his readers in this development\nof Protestant principles. His own view of the task before him\nrequires that he should separate himself from the consideration of\nany particular church, and lay aside all partisanship--plausible\nor not plausible.  It is his own overture that warrants us in\nexpecting this. And yet, before we have travelled three measured\ninches, he is found entangling himself with Church of Englandism.\nLet me not be misunderstood, as though, borrowing a Bentham word,\nI were therefore a Jerry Benthamite: I, that may describe myself\ngenerally as _Philo-Phil._, am not less a son of the 'Reformed\nAnglican Church' than _Phil._ Consequently, it is not likely\nthat, in any vindication of that church, simply _as_ such,\nand separately for itself, I should be the man to find grounds of\nexception. Loving most of what _Phil._ loves, loving _Phil._\nhimself, and hating (I grieve to say), with a theological hatred,\nwhatever _Phil._ hates, why should I demur at this particular\npoint to a course of argument that travels in the line of my own\npartialities? And yet I _do_ demur.  Having been promised\na philosophic defence of the principles concerned in the great\nEuropean schism of the sixteenth century, suddenly we find ourselves\ncollapsing from that altitude of speculation into a defence of\none individual church. Nobody would complain of _Phil._ if,\n_after_ having deduced philosophically the principles upon\nwhich all Protestant separation from Rome should revolve, he had\ngone forward to show, that in some one of the Protestant churches,\nmore than in others, these principles had been asserted with\npeculiar strength, or carried through with special consistency,\nor associated pre-eminently with the other graces of a Christian\nchurch, such as a ritual more impressive to the heart of man, or\na polity more symmetrical with the structure of English society.\nOnce having unfolded from philosophic grounds the primary conditions\nof a pure scriptural church, _Phil._ might then, without blame,\nhave turned sharp round upon us, saying, such being the conditions\nunder which the great idea of a true Christian church must be\n_constructed_, I now go on to show that the Church of England\nhas conformed to those conditions more faithfully than any other.\nBut to entangle the pure outlines of the idealizing mind with the\npractical forms of any militant church, embarrassed (as we know\nall churches to have been) by preoccupations of judgment, derived\nfrom feuds too local and interests too political, moving too (as\nwe know all churches to have moved) in a spirit of compromise,\noccasionally from mere necessities of position; this is in the\nresult to injure the object of the writer doubly: first, as leaving\nan impression of partisanship the reader is mistrustful from\nthe first, as against a judge that, in reality, is an advocate;\nsecond, without reference to the effect upon the reader, directly\nto _Phil._ it is injurious, by fettering the freedom of his\nspeculations, or, if leaving their freedom undisturbed, by narrowing\ntheir compass.\n\nAnd, if _Phil._, as to the general movement of his Protestant\npleadings, modulates too little in the transcendental key, sometimes\nhe does so too much. For instance, at p. 69, sec. 35, we find him\nhalf calling upon Protestantism to account for her belief in God;\nhow then? Is this belief special to Protestants? Are Roman Catholics,\nare those of the Greek, the Armenian, and other Christian churches,\natheistically given?  We used to be told that there is no royal\nroad to geometry.  I don't know whether there is or not; but I am\nsure there is no Protestant by-road, no Reformation short-cut, to\nthe demonstration of Deity. It is true that _Phil._ exonerates\nhis philosophic scholar, when throwing himself in Protestant freedom\nupon pure intellectual aids, from the vain labor of such an effort.\nHe consigns him, however philosophic, to the evidence of 'inevitable\nassumptions, upon axiomatic postulates, which the reflecting mind\nis compelled to accept, and which no more admit of doubt and cavil\nthan of establishment by formal proof.' I am not sure whether I\nunderstand _Phil._ in this section. Apparently he is glancing\nat Kant. Kant was the first person, and perhaps the last, that ever\nundertook formally to demonstrate the indemonstrability of God.\nHe showed that the three great arguments for the existence of the\nDeity were virtually one, inasmuch as the two weaker borrowed their\nvalue and _vis apodeictica_ from the more rigorous metaphysical\nargument. The physico-theological argument he forced to back, as it\nwere, into the cosmological, and _that_ into the ontological.\nAfter this reluctant _regressus_ of the three into one, shutting\nup like a spying-glass, which (with the iron hand of Hercules forcing\nCerberus up to daylight) the stern man of Koenigsberg resolutely\ndragged to the front of the arena, nothing remained, now that\nhe had this pet scholastic argument driven up into a corner, than\nto break its neck--which he did. Kant took the conceit out of all\nthe three arguments; but, if this is what _Phil._ alludes to,\nhe should have added, that these three, after all, were only the\narguments of speculating or _theoretic_ reason. To this faculty\nKant peremptorily denied the power of demonstrating the Deity; but\nthen that same _apodeixis_, which he had thus inexorably torn\nfrom reason under one manifestation, Kant himself restored to the\nreason in another (the _praktische vernunft_.) God he asserts\nto be a postulate of the human reason, as speaking through the\nconscience and will, not proved _ostensively_, but indirectly\nproved as being _wanted_ indispensably, and presupposed\nin other necessities of our human nature. This, probably, is what\n_Phil._ means by his short-hand expression of 'axiomatic\npostulates.' But then it should not have been said that the case\ndoes not 'admit of formal proof,' since the proof is as 'formal'\nand rigorous by this new method of Kant as by the old obsolete\nmethods of Sam. Clarke and the schoolmen.[Footnote: The method of\nDes Cartes was altogether separate and peculiar to himself; it is\na mere conjuror's juggle; and yet, what is strange, like some other\naudacious sophisms, it is capable of being so stated as most of\nall to baffle the subtle dialectician; and Kant himself, though not\ncheated, was never so much perplexed in his life as in the effort\nto make its hollowness apparent.]\n\nBut it is not the too high or the too low--the two much or the too\nlittle--of what one might call by analogy the _transcendental_\ncourse, which I charge upon _Phil._ It is, that he is too\ndesultory--too eclectic.  And the secret purpose, which seems to\nme predominant throughout his work, is, not so much the defence of\nProtestantism, or even of the Anglican Church, as a report of the\nlatest novelties that have found a roosting-place in the English\nChurch, amongst the most temperate of those churchmen who keep\npace with modern philosophy; in short, it is a selection from\nthe classical doctrines of religion, exhibited under their newest\nrevision; or, generally, it is an attempt to show, from what is\ngoing on amongst the most moving orders in the English Church, how\nfar it is possible that strict orthodoxy should bend, on the one\nside, to new impulses, derived from an advancing philosophy, and\nyet, on the other side, should reconcile itself, both verbally and\nin spirit, with ancient standards. But if _Phil._ is eclectic,\nthen _I_ will be eclectic; if _Phil._ has a right to be\ndesultory, then _I_ have a right. _Phil._ is my leader.\nI can't, in reason, be expected to be better than _he_ is.\nIf I'm wrong, _Phil._ ought to set me a better example.  And\nhere, before this honorable audience of the public, I charge all my\nerrors (whatever they may be, past or coming) upon _Phil.'s_\nmisconduct.\n\nHaving thus established my patent of vagrancy, and my license for\npicking and choosing, I choose out these three articles to toy\nwith:--first, Bibliolatry; second, Development applied to the Bible\nand Christianity; third, Philology, as the particular resource\nagainst false philosophy, relied on by _Phil._\n\n_Bibliolatry._--We Protestants charge upon the Ponteficii, as\nthe more learned of our fathers always called the Roman Catholics,\n_Mariolatry_; they pay undue honors, say we, to the Virgin.\nThey in return charge upon us, _Bibliolatry_, or a superstitious\nallegiance--an idolatrous homage--to the words, syllables,\nand punctuation of the Bible. They, according to _us_, deify\na woman; and we, according to _them_, deify an arrangement\nof printer's types. As to _their_ error, we need not mind _that:_\nlet us attend to our own. And to this extent it is evident at a\nglance that Bibliolatrists _must_ be wrong, viz., because, as a\npun vanishes on being translated into another language, even so\nwould, and must melt away, like ice in a hot-house, a large majority\nof those conceits which every Christian nation is apt to ground upon\nthe verbal text of the Scriptures in its own separate vernacular\nversion. But once aware that much of their Bibliolatry depends upon\nignorance of Hebrew and Greek, and often upon peculiarity of idiom\nor structures in their mother dialect, cautious people begin to\nsuspect the whole. Here arises a very interesting, startling, and\nperplexing situation for all who venerate the Bible; one which must\nalways have existed for prying, inquisitive people, but which has\nbeen incalculably sharpened for the apprehension of these days by\nthe extraordinary advances made and making in Oriental and Greek\nphilology. It is a situation of public scandal even to the deep\nreverencers of the Bible; but a situation of much more than scandal,\nof real grief, to the profound and sincere amongst religious people.\nOn the one hand, viewing the Bible as the word of God, and not\nmerely so in the sense of its containing most salutary counsels,\nbut, in the highest sense, of its containing a revelation of the\nmost awful secrets, they cannot for a moment listen to the pretence\nthat the Bible has benefited by God's inspiration only as other good\nbooks may be said to have done. They are confident that, in a much\nhigher sense, and in a sense incommunicable to other books, it is\ninspired. Yet, on the other hand, as they will not tell lies, or\ncountenance lies, even in what seems the service of religion, they\ncannot hide from themselves that the materials of this imperishable\nbook are perishable, frail, liable to crumble, and actually _have_\ncrumbled to some extent, in various instances. There is, therefore,\nlying broadly before us, something like what Kant called an\nantinomy--a case where two laws equally binding on the mind are,\nor seem to be, in collision. Such cases occur in morals--cases\nwhich are carried out of the general rule, and the jurisdiction\nof that rule, by peculiar deflexions; and from the word _case_ we\nderive the word _casuistry_, as a general science dealing with such\nanomalous cases. There is a casuistry, also, for the speculative\nunderstanding, as well as for the moral (which is the _practical_)\nunderstanding. And this question, as to the inspiration of the Bible,\nwith its apparent conflict of forces, repelling it and yet affirming\nit, is one of its most perplexing and most momentous problems.\n\nMy own solution of the problem would reconcile all that is urged\nagainst an inspiration with all that the internal necessity of the\ncase would plead in behalf of an inspiration. So would _Phil.'s_.\nHis distinction, like mine, would substantially come down to\nthis--that the grandeur and extent of religious truth is not of a\nnature to be affected by verbal changes such as _can_ be made\nby time, or accident, or without treacherous design. It is like\nlightning, which could not be mutilated, or truncated, or polluted.\nBut it may be well to rehearse a little more in detail, both\n_Phil.'s_ view and my own.  Let my principal go first; make\nway, I desire, for my leader: let _Phil._ have precedency,\nas, in all reason, it is my duty to see that he has.\n\nWhilst rejecting altogether any inspiration as attaching to the\nseparate words and phrases of the Scriptures, _Phil._ insists\n(sect. 25, p. 49) upon such an inspiration as attaching to the\nspiritual truths and doctrines delivered in these Scriptures. And\nhe places this theory in a striking light, equally for what it\naffirms and for what it denies, by these two arguments--first (in\naffirmation of the real spiritual inspiration), that a series of\nmore than thirty writers, speaking in succession along a vast line\nof time, and absolutely without means of concert, yet all combine\nunconsciously to one end--lock like parts of a great machine into\none system--conspire to the unity of a very elaborate scheme, without\nbeing at all aware of what was to come after. Here, for instance,\nis one, living nearly one thousand six hundred years before the\nlast in the series, who lays a foundation (in reference to man's\nruin, to God's promises and plan for human restoration), which\nis built upon and carried forward by all, without exception, that\nfollow.  Here come a multitude that prepare each for his successor--that\nunconsciously integrate each other--that, finally, when reviewed,\nmake up a total drama, of which each writer's separate share would\nhave been utterly imperfect without corresponding parts that he could\nnot have foreseen. At length all is finished. A profound piece of\nmusic, a vast oratorio, perfect and of elaborate unity, has resulted\nfrom a long succession of strains, each for itself fragmentary. On\nsuch a final creation resulting from such a distraction of parts,\nit is indispensable to suppose an overruling inspiration, in order\nat all to account for the final result of a most elaborate harmony.\nBesides, which would argue some inconceivable magic, if we did not\nassume a providential inspiration watching over the coherencies,\ntendencies, and intertessellations (to use a learned word) of the\nwhole,--it happens that, in many instances, typical things are\nrecorded--things ceremonial, that could have no meaning to the person\nrecording--prospective words, that were reported and transmitted\nin a spirit of confiding faith, but that could have little meaning\nto the reporting parties for many hundreds of years. Briefly, a\ngreat mysterious _word_ is spelt as it were by the whole sum\nof the scriptural books--every separate book forming a letter or\nsyllable in that secret and that unfinished word, as it was for\nso many ages. This cooperation of ages, not able to communicate\nor concert arrangements with each other, is neither more nor less\nan argument of an overruling inspiration, than if the separation\nof the contributing parties were by space, and not by time. As\nif, for example, every island at the same moment were to send its\ncontribution, without previous concert, to a sentence or chapter of\na book; in which case the result, if full of meaning, much more\nif full of awful and profound meaning, could not be explained\nrationally without the assumption of a supernatural overruling of\nthese unconscious co-operators to a common result. So far on behalf\nof inspiration.  Yet, on the other hand, as an argument in denial\nof any blind mechanic inspiration cleaving to words and syllables,\n_Phil._ notices this consequence as resulting from such\nan assumption, viz., that if you adopt any one gospel, St. John's\nsuppose, or any one narrative of a particular transaction, as\ninspired in this minute and pedantic sense, then for every other\nreport, which, adhering to the spiritual _value_ of the\ncircumstances, and virtually the same, should differ in the least\nof the details, there would instantly arise a solemn degradation.\nAll parts of Scripture, in fact, would thus be made active and\noperative in degrading each other.\n\nSuch is _Phil._'s way of explaining \u03be\u03b5\u03bf\u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1[Footnote:\nI must point out to _Phil_. an oversight of his as to this word\nat p. 45; he there describes the doctrine of _theopneustia_ as\nbeing that of 'plenary and _verbal_ inspiration,' But this he\ncannot mean, for obviously this word _theopneustia_ comprehends\nequally the verbal inspiration which he is denouncing, and the\ninspiration of power or spiritual virtue which he is substituting.\nNeither _Phil_., nor any one of his school, is to be understood\nas rejecting _theopneustia_, but as rejecting that particular\nmode of _theopneustia_ which appeals to the eye by mouldering\nsymbols, in favor of that other mode which appeals to the heart by\nincorruptible radiations of inner truth.] (_theopneustia_),\nor divine prompting, so as to reconcile the doctrine affirming a\n_virtual_ inspiration, an inspiration as to the truths revealed,\nwith a peremptory denial of any inspiration at all, as to the mere\nverbal vehicle of those revelations. He is evidently as sincere\nin regard to the inspiration which he upholds as in regard to that\nwhich he denies. _Phil._ is honest, and _Phil._ is able.\nNow comes _my_ turn. I rise to support my leader, and shall\nattempt to wrench this notion of a verbal inspiration from the\nhands of its champions by a _reductio ad absurdum_, viz., by\nshowing the monstrous consequences to which it leads--which form of\nlogic _Phil._ also has employed briefly in the last paragraph\nof last month's paper; but mine is different and more elaborate.\nYet, first of all, let me frankly confess to the reader, that some\npeople allege a point-blank assertion by Scripture itself of its\nown verbal inspiration; which assertion, if it really _had_ any\nexistence, would summarily put down all cavils of human dialectics.\n_That_ makes it necessary to review this assertion. This famous\npassage of Scripture, this _locus classicus_, or prerogative\ntext, pleaded for the _verbatim et literatim_ inspiration of\nthe Bible, is the following; and I will so exhibit its very words as\nthat the reader, even if no Grecian, may understand the point in\nlitigation. The passage is this: \u03a0\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1 \u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03b7 \u03be\u03b5\u03bf\u03c0\u03b9\u03b5\u03bd\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\n\u03c7\u03b1\u03af \u03ce\u03c6\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2, &c., taken from St. Paul, (2 Tim.\niii. 16.) Let us construe it literally, expressing the Greek by\nLatin characters: _Pasa graphe_, all written lore (or every\nwriting)--_theopneustos_, God-breathed, or, God-prompted--_kai_,\nand (or, also)--_ophelimos_, serviceable--_pros_, towards,\n_didaskalian_, doctrinal truth. Now this sentence, when thus\nrendered into English according to the rigor of the Grecian letter,\nwants something to complete its sense--it wants an _is_. There\nis a subject, as the logicians say, and there is a predicate (or,\nsomething affirmed of that subject), but there is no _copula_\nto connect them--we miss the _is_. This omission is common\nin Greek, but cannot be allowed in English. The _is_ must be\nsupplied; but _where_ must it be supplied? That's the very\nquestion, for there is a choice between two places; and, according\nto the choice, will the word _theopneustos_ become part of\nthe subject, or part of the predicate; which will make a world of\ndifference. Let us try it both ways:--\n\n1. All writing inspired by God (_i.e._ being inspired by God,\nsupposing it inspired, which makes _theopneustos_ part of the\nsubject) _is_ also profitable for teaching, &c.\n\n2. All writing _is_ inspired by God, and profitable, &c. (which\nmakes _theopneustos_ part of the predicate.)\n\nNow, in this last way of construing the text, which is the way\nadopted by our authorized version, one objection strikes everybody\nat a glance, viz., that St. Paul could not possibly mean to say of\nall writing, indiscriminately, that it was divinely inspired, this\nbeing so revoltingly opposed to the truth. It follows, therefore,\nthat, on this way of interpolating the _is_, we must understand\nthe Apostle to use the word _graphe_, writing, in a restricted\nsense, not for writing generally, but for sacred writing, or\n(as our English phrase runs) '_Holy Writ;_' upon which will\narise three separate demurs--_first_, one already stated\nby _Phil._, viz., that, when _graphe_ is used in this sense, it is\naccompanied by the article; the phrase is either \u03ae\u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03b7,\n'the writing,' or else (as in St. Luke) \u03ac\u03b9 \u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03b1\u03b9,\n'the writings,' just as in English it is said, 'the Scripture,'\nor 'the Scriptures.' _Secondly_, that, according to the Greek\nusage, this would not be the natural place for introducing the\n_is_.  _Thirdly_--which disarms the whole objection from\nthis text, _howsoever_ construed--that, after all, it leaves\nthe dispute with the bibliolaters wholly untouched. We also, the\nanti-bibliolaters, say that all Scripture is inspired, though we\nmay not therefore suppose the Apostle to be here insisting on that\ndoctrine. But no matter whether he is or not, in relation to this\ndispute. Both parties are contending for the inspiration--so far\nthey are agreed; the question between them arises upon quite another\npoint, viz., as to the _mode_ of that inspiration, whether\nincarnating its golden light in the corruptibilities of perishing\nsyllables, or in the sanctities of indefeasible, word-transcending\nideas. Now, upon that question, the apostolic words, torture them\nhow you please, say nothing at all.\n\nThere is, then, no such dogma (or, to speak _Germanice_, no\nsuch _macht-spruch_) in behalf of verbal inspiration as has\nbeen ascribed to St. Paul, and I pass to my own argument against it.\nThis argument turns upon the self-confounding tendency of the common\nform ascribed to \u03be\u03b5\u03bf\u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1, or divine inspiration.  When\ntranslated from its true and lofty sense of an inspiration--brooding,\nwith outstretched wings, over the mighty abyss of _secret_\ntruth--to the vulgar sense of an inspiration, burrowing, like a\nrabbit or a worm, in grammatical quillets and syllables, mark how\nit comes down to nothing at all; mark how a stream, pretending to\nderive itself from a heavenly fountain, is finally lost and confounded\nin a morass of human perplexities.\n\nFirst of all, at starting, we have the inspiration (No.  1) to the\noriginal composers of the sacred books. _That_ I grant, though\ndistinguishing as to its nature.\n\nNext, we want another inspiration (No. 2) for the countless\n_translators_ of the Bible. Of what use is it to a German, to\na Swiss, or to a Scotsman, that, three thousand years before the\nReformation, the author of the Pentateuch was kept from erring\nby a divine restraint over his words, if the authors of this\nReformation--Luther, suppose, Zwingle, John Knox--either making\ntranslations themselves, or relying upon translations made by\nothers under no such verbal restraint, have been left free to bias\nhis mind, pretty nearly as much as if the original Hebrew writer\nhad been resigned to his own human discretion?\n\nThirdly, even if we adopt the inspiration No. 2, _that_ will\nnot avail us; because many _different_ translators exist. Does\nthe very earliest translation of the Law and the Prophets, viz.,\nthe Greek translation of the Septuagint, always agree verbally with\nthe Hebrew?  Or the Samaritan Pentateuch always with the Hebrew?\nOr do the earliest Latin versions of the entire Bible agree\n_verbally_ with modern Latin versions? Jerome's Latin version,\nfor instance, memorable as being that adopted by the Romish Church,\nand known under the name of the _Vulgate_, does it agree\nverbally with the Latin versions of the Bible or parts of the Bible\nmade since the Reformation? In the English, again, if we begin with\nthe translation still sleeping in MS., made five centuries ago, and\npassing from that to the first _printed_ translation (which\nwas, I think, Coverdale's, in 1535), if we thence travel down to\nour own day, so as to include all that have confined themselves to\nseparate versions of some one book, or even of some one cardinal\ntext, the versions that differ--and to the idolater of words all\ndifferences are important--may be described as countless. Here,\nthen, on that doctrine of inspiration which ascribes so much to the\npower of _verbal_ accuracy, we shall want a fourth inspiration,\nNo. 4, for the guidance of each separate Christian applying himself\nto the Scriptures in his mother tongue; he will have to select\nnot one (where is the one that has been uniformly correct?) but\na multitude; else the same error will again rush in by torrents\nthrough the license of interpretation assumed by these many adverse\ntranslators.\n\nFourthly, as these differences of version arise often tinder the\n_same_ reading of the original text; but as, in the meantime,\nthere are many _different_ readings, here a fifth source of\npossible error calls for a fifth inspiration overruling us to the\nproper choice amongst various readings. What may be called a 'textual'\ninspiration for _selecting_ the right reading is requisite\nfor the very same reason, neither more nor less, which supposes any\nverbal inspiration originally requisite for _constituting_ a\nright reading. It matters not in which stage of the Bible's progress\nthe error commences; first stage and last stage are all alike in\nthe sight of God. There was, reader, as perhaps you know, about\nsix score years ago, another _Phil._, not the same as this\n_Phil._ now before us (who would be quite vexed if you fancied\nhim as old as all _that_ comes to--oh dear, no! he's not near\nas old)--well, that earlier _Phil._ was Bentley, who wrote\n(under the name of _Phileleutheros Lipsiansis_) a pamphlet\nconnected with this very subject, partly against an English infidel\nof that day. In that pamphlet, _Phil._ the first pauses to\nconsider and value this very objection from textual variation to the\nvalidity of Scripture: for the infidel (as is usual with infidels)\nbeing no great scholar, had argued as though it were impossible to\nurge anything whatever for the word of God, since so vast a variety\nin the readings rendered it impossible to know what _was_ the\nword of God. Bentley, though rather rough, from having too often\nto deal with shallow coxcombs, was really and unaffectedly a pious\nman. He was shocked at this argument, and set himself seriously to\nconsider it. Now, as all the various readings were Greek, and as\nBentley happened to be the first of Grecians, his deliberate review\nof this argument is entitled to great attention. There were, at\nthat moment when Bentley spoke, something more (as I recollect) than\nten thousand varieties of reading in the text of the New Testament;\nso many had been collected in the early part of Queen Anne's reign\nby Wetstein, the Dutchman, who was then at the head of the collators.\nMill, the Englishman, was at that very time making further collations.\nHow many he added, I cannot tell without consulting books--a thing\nwhich I very seldom do. But since that day, and long after Bentley\nand Mill were in their graves, Griesbach, the German, has risen\nto the top of the tree, by towering above them all in the accuracy\nof his collations. Yet, as the harvest comes before the gleanings,\nwe may be sure that Wetstein's barn housed the very wealth of all\nthis variety.  Of this it was, then, that Bentley spoke. And what\n_was_ it that he spoke? Why, he, the great scholar, pronounced,\nas with the authority of a Chancery decree, that the vast majority\nof various readings made no difference at all in the sense. In the\n_sense_, observe; but many things _might_ make a difference\nin the sense which would still leave the doctrine undisturbed. For\ninstance, in the passage about a camel going through the eye of a\nneedle, it will make a difference in the sense, whether you read in\nthe Greek word for _camel_ the oriental animal of that name,\nor a ship's cable; but no difference at all arises in the spiritual\ndoctrine. Or, illustrating the case out of Shakspeare, it makes no\ndifference as to the result, whether you read in Hamlet 'to take\narms against a _sea_ of troubles,' or (as has been suggested),\n'against a _siege_ of troubles;' but it makes a difference\nas to the integrity of the image.[Footnote: _'Integrity of the\nmetaphor_.'--One of the best notes ever written by Warburton\nwas in justification of the old reading, _sea_. It was true,\nthat against a _sea_ it would be idle to take _arms_. We,\nthat have lived since Warburton's day, have learned by the solemn\nexample of Mrs. Partington, (which, it is to be hoped, none of us will\never forget,) how useless, how vain it is to take up a mop against\nthe Atlantic Ocean. Great is the mop, great is Mrs. Partington, but\ngreater is the Atlantic. Yet, though all arms must be idle against\nthe sea considered literally, and \u03c7\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd\nunder that image, Warburton contended justly that all images, much\nemployed, _evanesce_ into the ideas which they represent.\nA _sea_ of troubles comes to mean only a _multitude_ of troubles.\nNo image of the _sea_ is suggested; and arms, incongruous in relation\nto the literal sea, is not so in relation to a multitude; besides,\nthat the image _arms_ itself, evanesces for the same reason into\n_resistance_. For this one note, which I cite from boyish remembrance,\nI have always admired the subtlety of Warburton.] What has a sea to do\nwith arms? What has a camel,[Footnote: Meantime, though using this case\nas an illustration, I believe that _camel_ is, after all, the true\ntranslation; first, on account of the undoubted proverb in the East about\nthe _elephant_ going through the needle's eye; the relation\nis that of _contrast_ as to magnitude; and the same relation\nholds as to the camel and the needle's eye; secondly, because the\nproper word for a cable, it has been alleged, is not 'cam_e_lus,'\nbut 'cam_i_lus.'] the quadruped, to do with a needle? A\nprodigious minority, therefore, there is of such various readings\nas slightly affect the _sense;_ but this minority becomes next\nto nothing, when we inquire for such as affect any _doctrine_.\nThis was Bentley's opinion upon the possible disturbance offered\nto the Christian by various readings in the New Testament. You\nthought that the carelessness, or, at times, even the treachery of\nmen, through so many centuries, must have ended in corrupting the\noriginal truth; yet, after all, you see the light burns as brightly\nand steadily as ever. We, now, that are not bibliolatrists, no more\nbelieve that, from the disturbance of a few words here or there,\nany evangelical truth can have suffered a wound or mutilation, than\nwe believe that the burning of a wood, or even of a forest, which\nhappens in our vast American possessions, sometimes from natural\ncauses (lightning, or spontaneous combustion), sometimes from an\nIndian's carelessness, can seriously have injured botany. But for\n_him_, who conceives an inviolable sanctity to have settled upon\neach word and particle of the original record, there _should_\nhave been strictly required an inspiration (No. 5) to prevent the\npossibility of various readings arising. It is too late, however,\nto pray for _that_; the various readings _have_ arisen;\nhere they are; and what's to be done now? The only resource for the\nbibliolatrist is--to invoke a new inspiration (No.4) for helping him\nout of his difficulty, by guiding his choice. We, anti-bibliolaters,\nare not so foolish as to believe that God having once sent a deep\nmessage of truth to man, would suffer it to lie at the mercy of a\ncareless or a wicked copyist. Treasures so vast would not be left\nat the mercy of accidents so vile. Very little more than two hundred\nyears ago, a London compositor, not wicked at all, but simply drunk,\nin printing Deuteronomy, left out the most critical of words; the\nseventh commandment he exhibited thus-'Thou _shalt_ commit\nadultery;' in which form the sheet was struck off. And though in\nthose days no practical mischief could arise from this singular\n_erratum,_ which English Griesbachs will hardly enter upon\nthe roll of various readings, yet, harmless as it was, it met with\npunishment.  'Scandalous!' said Laud, 'shocking! to tell men in\nthe seventeenth century, as a biblical rule, that they positively\nmust commit adultery!' The brother compositors of this drunken\nbiblical reviser, being too honorable to betray the individual\ndelinquent, the Star Chamber fined the whole 'chapel.' Now, the\ncopyists of MSS. were as certain to be sometimes drunk as this\ncompositor--famous by his act--utterly forgotten in his person--whose\ncrime is remembered--the record of whose name has perished. We\ntherefore hold, that it never was in the power, or placed within\nthe discretion, of any copyist, whether writer or printer, to injure\nthe sacred oracles. But the bibliolatrist cannot say _that_;\nbecause, if he does, then he is formally unsaying the very principle\nwhich is meant by bibliolatry. He therefore must require another\nsupplementary inspiration, viz., No. 4, to direct him in his\nchoice of the true reading amongst so many as continually offer\nthemselves.[Footnote: [Footnote: I recollect no variation in the\ntest of Scripture which makes any startling change, even to the\namount of an eddy in its own circumjacent waters, except that famous\npassage about the three witnesses--'_There are three that bare\nrecord in heaven_,' &c.  This has been denounced with perfect\nfury as an interpolation; and it is impossible to sum up the quart\nbottles of ink, black and blue, that have been shed in the dreadful\nskirmish. Person even, the all-accomplished Grecian, in his letters\nto Archdeacon Travis, took a conspicuous part in the controversy;\nhis wish was, that men should think of him as a second Bentley\ntilting against Phalaris; and he stung like a hornet. To be a\nCambridge man in those days was to be a hater of all Establishments\nin England; things and persons were hated alike. I hope the same\nthing may not be true at present. It may chance that on this subject\nMaster Porson will get stung through his coffin, before he is many\nyears deader. However, if this particular variation troubles the\nwaters just around itself (for it would desolate a Popish village\nto withdraw its local saint), yet carrying one's eye from this\nEpistle to the whole domains of the New Testament--yet, looking\naway from that defrauded village to universal Christendom, we must\nexclaim--What does one miss? Surely Christendom is not disturbed\nbecause a village suffers wrong; the sea is not roused because an\neddy in a corner is boiling; the doctrine of the Trinity is not in\ndanger because Mr. Porson is in a passion.]\n\nFifthly, as all words cover ideas, and many a word covers a choice\nof ideas, and very many ideas split into a variety of modifications,\nwe shall, even after a fourth inspiration has qualified us\nfor selecting the true reading, still be at a loss how, upon this\nright reading, to fix the right acceptation. So _there,_ at\nthat fifth stage, in rushes the total deluge of human theological\ncontroversies. One church, or one sect, insists upon one sense;\nanother, and another, 'to the end of time,' insists upon a different\nsense. Babel is upon us; and, to get rid of Babel, we shall need\na fifth inspiration.  No. 5 is clamorously called for.[Footnote:\nOne does not wish to be tedious; or, if one _has_ a gift in\nthat way, naturally one does not wish to bestow it _all_ upon\na perfect stranger, as 'the reader' usually is, but to reserve a\npart for the fireside, and the use of one's most beloved friends;\nelse I could torment the reader by a longer succession of numbers,\nand perhaps drive him to despair. But one more of the series,\nviz., No. 6, as a parting _gage d' amitie_, he must positively\npermit me to drop into his pocket. Supposing, then, that No. 5\nwere surmounted, and that, supernaturally, you knew the value to\na hair's breadth, of every separate word (or, perhaps, composite\nphrase made up from a constellation of words)--ah, poor traveller\nin trackless forests, still you are lost again--for, oftentimes,\nand especially in St. Paul, the words may be known, their sense\nmay be known, but their _logical relation_ is still doubtful.\nThe word X and the word Y are separately clear; but has Y the\ndependency of a consequence upon X, or no dependency at all? Is the\nclause which stands eleventh in the series a direct prolongation\nof that which stands tenth? or is the tenth wholly independent and\ninsulated? or does it occupy the place of a parenthesis, so as to\nmodify the ninth clause? People that have pracised composition as\nmuch, and with as vigilant an eye as myself, know also, by thousands\nof cases, how infinite is the disturbance caused in the logic of\na thought by the mere position of a word as despicable as the word\n_even_. A mote, that is itself invisible, shall darken the\naugust faculty of sight in a human eye--the heavens shall be hidden\nby a wretched atom that dares not show itself--and the station\nof a syllable shall cloud the judgment of a council. Nay, even an\nambiguous emphasis falling to the right-hand word, or the left-hand\nword, shall confound a system.] But we all know, each knows by his\nown experience, that No. 5 is not forthcoming; and, in the absence\nof _that,_ what avail for _us_ the others? 'Man overboard!'\nis the cry upon deck; but what avails it for the poor drowning\ncreature that a rope being thrown to him is thoroughly secured at\none end to the ship, if the other end floats wide of his grasp? We\nare in prison: we descend from our prison-roof, that seems high as\nthe clouds, by knotting together all the prison bed-clothes, and\nall the aids from friends outside. But all is too short: after\nswarming down the line, in middle air, we find ourselves hanging:\nsixty feet of line are still wanting. To reascend--_that_ is\nimpossible: to drop boldly--alas! _that_ is to die.\n\nMeantime, what need of this eternal machinery, that eternally\nis breaking like ropes of sand? Or of this earth resting on an\nelephant, that rests on a tortoise, that, when all is done, must\nstill consent to rest on the common atmosphere of God? These chains\nof inspiration are needless. The great ideas of the Bible protect\nthemselves. The heavenly truths, by their own imperishableness,\ndefeat the mortality of languages with which for a moment they\nare associated. Is the lightning enfeebled or dimmed, because for\nthousands of years it has blended with the tarnish of earth and the\nsteams of earthly graves? Or light, which so long has travelled in\nthe chambers of our sickly air, and searched the haunts of impurity--is\nthat less pure than it was in the first chapter of Genesis? Or\nthat more holy light of truth--the truth, suppose, written from\nhis creation upon the tablets of man's heart--which truth never was\nimprisoned in any Hebrew or Greek, but has ranged for ever through\ncourts and camps, deserts and cities, the original lesson of justice\nto man and piety to God--has that become tainted by intercourse with\nflesh?  or has it become hard to decipher, because the very heart,\nthat human heart where it is inscribed, is so often blotted with\nfalsehoods? You are aware, perhaps, reader, that in the Mediterranean\nSea, off the coast of Asia Minor (and, indeed, elsewhere), through\nthe very middle of the salt-sea billows, rise up, in shining columns,\nfountains of fresh water.[Footnote: See Mr. Yates's 'Annotations\nupon Fellowes's Researches in Anatolia,' as _one_ authority\nfor this singular phenomenon.] In the desert of the sea are found\nArabian fountains of Ishmael and Isaac!  Are these fountains poisoned\nfor the poor victim of fever, because they have to travel through\na contagion of waters not potable? Oh, no! They bound upwards like\narrows, cleaving the seas above with as much projectile force as\nthe glittering water-works of Versailles cleave the air, and rising\nas sweet to the lip as ever mountain torrent that comforted the\nhunted deer.\n\nIt is impossible to suppose that any truth, launched by God upon\nthe agitations of things so unsettled as languages, _can_\nperish. The very frailty of languages is the strongest proof of\nthis; because it is impossible to suppose that anything so great\ncan have been committed to the fidelity of anything so treacherous.\nThere is laughter in heaven when it is told of man, that he fancies\nhis earthly jargons, which, to heavenly ears, must sound like the\nchucklings of poultry, equal to the task of hiding or distorting\nany light of revelation.  Had _words_ possessed any authority\nor restraint over scriptural truth, a much worse danger would have\nthreatened it than any malice in the human will, suborning false\ncopyists, or surreptitiously favoring depraved copies. Even a\ngeneral conspiracy of the human race for such a purpose would avail\nagainst the Bible only as a general conspiracy to commit suicide\nmight avail against the drama of God's providence.  Either conspiracy\nwould first become dangerous when first either became possible.\nBut a real danger seems to lie in the insensible corruption going\non for ever within all languages, by means of which they are eternally\ndying away from their own vital powers; and that is a danger which\nis travelling fast after all the wisdom and the wit, the eloquence\nand the poetry of this earth, like a mountainous wave, and will\nfinally overtake them--their very vehicles being lost and confounded\nto human sensibilities. But such a wave will break harmlessly\nagainst scriptural truth; and not merely because that truth will\nfor ever evade such a shock by its eternal transfer from language\nto language--from languages dying out to languages in vernal\nbloom--but also because, if it could _not_ evade the shock,\nsupreme truth would surmount it for a profounder reason. A danger\nanalogous to this once existed in a different form. The languages\ninto which the New Testament was first translated offered an\napparent obstacle to the translation that seemed insurmountable.\nThe Latin, for instance, did not present the spiritual words which\nsuch a translation demanded; and how _should_ it, when the\ncorresponding ideas had no existence amongst the Romans? Yet, if\nnot spiritual, the language of Rome was intellectual; it was the\nlanguage of a cultivated and noble race. But what shall be done if\nthe New Testament wishes to drive a tunnel through a rude forest\nrace, having an undeveloped language, and understanding nothing\nbut war? Four centuries after Christ, the Gothic Bishop Ulphilas\nset about translating the Gospels for his countrymen. He had no\nwords for expressing spiritual relations or spiritual operations.\nThe new nomenclature of moral graces, humility, resignation, the\nspirit of forgiveness, &c., hitherto unrecognised for such amongst\nmen, having first of all been shown in blossom, and distinguished\nfrom weeds, by Christian gardening, had to be reproduced in the\nGothic language, with apparently no means whatever of effecting it.\nIn this earliest of what we may call ancestral translations, (for\nthe Goths were of our own blood,) and, therefore, by many degrees,\nthis most interesting of translations, may be seen to this day,\nafter fourteen centuries and upwards have passed, _how_ the\ngood bishop succeeded, to what extent he succeeded, and by what\nmeans. I shall take a separate opportunity for investigating that\nproblem; but at present I will content myself with noticing a\nremarkable principle which applies to the case, and illustrating it\nby a remarkable anecdote. The principle is this--that in the grander\nparts of knowledge, which do not deal much with petty details,\nnearly all the _building_ or constructive ideas (those ideas\nwhich build up the system of that particular knowledge) lie involved\nwithin each other; so that any one of the series, being awakened\nin the mind, is sufficient (given a multitude of minds) to lead\nbackwards or forwards, analytically or synthetically, into many of\nthe rest. That is the principle;[Footnote: I am afraid, on reviewing\nthis passage, that the reader may still say, '_What_ is the\nprinciple?' I will add, therefore, the shortest explanation of my\nmeaning.  If into any Pagan language you had occasion to translate\nthe word _love_, or _purity_, or _penitence_, &c., you could not do\nit.  The Greek language itself, perhaps the finest (all things\nweighed and valued) that man has employed, could not do it. The\n_scale_ was not so pitched as to make the transfer possible. It\nwas to execute organ music on a guitar. And, hereafter, I will\nendeavor to show how scandalous an error has been committed on\nthis subject, not by scholars only, but by religious philosophers.\nThe relation of Christian ethics (which word ethics, however, is\nitself most insufficient) to natural or universal ethics is a field\nyet uncultured by a rational thought. The first word of sense has\nyet to be spoken. There lies the difficulty; and the principle\nwhich meets it is this, that what any one idea could never effect\nfor itself (insulated, it must remain an unknown quality for ever),\nthe total system of the ideas developed from its centre would\neffect for each separately. To know the part, you must first know\nthe whole, or know it, at least, by some outline. The idea of\n_purity_, for instance, in its Christian altitude, would be\nutterly incomprehensible, and, besides, could not sustain itself\nfor a moment if by any glimpse it were approached. But when\na _ruin_ was unfolded that had affected the human race, and\nmany things heretofore unobserved, _because uncombined_, were\ngathered into a unity of evidence to that ruin, spread through\ninnumerable channels, the great altitude would begin dimly to\nreveal itself by means of the mighty depth in correspondence. One\ndeep calleth to another. One after one the powers lodged in the\nawful succession of uncoverings would react upon each other; and\nthus the feeblest language would be as capable of receiving and\nreflecting the system of truths (because the system is an arch\nthat supports itself) as the richest and noblest; and for the same\nreason that makes geometry careless of language. The vilest jargon\nthat ever was used by a shivering savage of Terra del Fuego is as\ncapable of dealing with the sublime and eternal affections of space\nand quantity, with up and down, with more and less, with circle and\nradius, angle and tangent, as is the golden language of Athens.] and\nthe story which illustrates it is this:--A great work of Apollonius,\nthe sublime geometer, was supposed in part to have perished: seven\nof the eight books remained in the original Greek; but the eighth\nwas missing. The Greek, after much search, was not recovered; but\nat length there was found (in the Bodleian, I think,) an Arabic\ntranslation of it. An English mathematician, Halley, knowing not\none word of Arabic, determined (without waiting for that Arabic\nkey) to pick the lock of this MS. And he did so. Through strength\nof preconception, derived equally from his knowledge of the general\nsubject, and from his knowledge of this particular work in its\nearlier sections, using also to some extent the subtle art of the\ndecipherer, [Footnote: An art which, in the preceding century, had\nbeen greatly improved by Wallis, Savilian professor of geometry at\nOxford, the improver of analytic mathematics, and the great historian\nof algebra. Algebra it was that suggested to him his exquisite\ndeciphering skill, and the parliamentary war it was that furnished\nhim with a sufficient field of practice. The King's private cabinet\nof papers, all written in cipher, and captured in the royal coach on\nthe decisive day of Naseby (June, 1645), was (I believe) deciphered\nby Wallis, _proprio marte_.] now become so powerful an instrument\nof analysis, he translated the whole Arabic MS. He printed it--he\npublished it. He tore--he extorted the truth from the darkness of\nan unknown language--he would not suffer the Arabic to benefit by\nits own obscurity to the injury of mathematics. And the book remains\na monument to this day, that a system of ideas, having internal\ncoherency and interdependency, is vainly hidden under an unknown\ntongue; that it may be illuminated and restored chiefly through\ntheir own reciprocal involutions. The same principle applies, and\n_a fortiori_ applies, to religious truth, as one which lies\nfar deeper than geometry in the spirit of man, one to which the\ninner attestation is profounder, and to which the key-notes of\nScripture (once awakened on the great organ of the heart) are sure\nto call up corresponding echoes. It is not in the power of language\nto arrest or to defeat this mode of truth; because, when once the\nfundamental base is furnished by revelation, the human heart itself\nis able to co-operate in developing the great harmonies of the system,\nwithout aid from language, and in defiance of language--without\naid from human learning, and in defiance of human learning.\n\nFinally, there is another security against the suppression or\ndistortion of any great biblical truth by false readings, which I\nwill state in the briefest terms. The reader is aware of the boyish\nsport sometimes called 'drake-stone;' a flattish stone is thrown\nby a little dexterity so as to graze the surface of a river, but\nso, also, as in grazing it to dip below the surface, to rise again\nfrom this dip, again to dip, again to ascend, and so on alternately,\n_a plusieurs reprises_. In the same way, with the same effect\nof alternate resurrections, all scriptural truths reverberate and\ndiffuse themselves along the pages of the Bible; none is confined\nto one text, or to one mode of enunciation; all parts of the scheme\nare eternally chasing each other, like the parts of a fugue; they\nhide themselves in one chapter, only to restore themselves in\nanother; they diverge, only to recombine; and under such a vast\nvariety of expressions, that even in that way, supposing language\nto have powers over religious truth--which it never had, or can\nhave--any abuse of such a power would be thoroughly neutralized.\nThe case resembles the diffusion of vegetable seeds through the\nair and through the waters; draw a _cordon sanitaire_ against\ndandelion or thistledown, and see if the armies of earth would\nsuffice to interrupt this process of radiation, which yet is but\nthe distribution of weeds. Suppose, for instance, the text about\nthe _three heavenly witnesses_ to have been eliminated finally\nas an interpolation. The first thought is--_there_ goes to wreck\na great doctrine! Not at all.  That text occupied but a corner of\nthe garden. The truth, and the secret implications of the truth,\nhave escaped at a thousand points in vast arches above our heads,\nrising high above the garden wall, and have sown the earth with\nmemorials of the mystery which they envelope.\n\nThe final inference is this--that scriptural truth is endowed with\na self-conservative and a self-restorative virtue; it needs no long\nsuccessions of verbal protection by inspiration; it is self-protected;\nfirst, internally, by the complex power which belongs to the\nChristian _system_ of involving its own integrations, in the\nsame way as a musical chord involves its own successions of sound,\nand its own resolutions; secondly, in an external and obvious\nway, it is protected by its prodigious iteration, and secret\n_presupposed_ in all varieties of form.  Consequently, as the\nperil connected with language is thus effectually barred, the call\nfor any verbal inspiration (which, on separate grounds, is shown\nto be self-confounding) shows itself now, in a _second_ form,\nto be a gratuitous delusion, since, in effect, it is a call for\nprotection against a danger which cannot have any existence.\n\nThere is another variety of bibliolatry arising in a different\nway--not upon errors of language incident to human infirmity, but\nupon deliberate errors indispensable to divine purposes. The case\nis one which has been considered with far too little attention,\nelse it could never have been thought strange that Christ should\ncomply in things indifferent with popular errors.  A few Words will\nput the reader in possession of my view. Speaking of the Bible,\n_Phil._ says, 'We admit that its separate parts are the work\nof frail and fallible human beings. We do not seek to build upon it\nsystems of cosmogony, chronology, astronomy, and natural history.\nWe know no reason of internal or external probability which should\ninduce us to believe that such matters could ever have been the\nsubjects of direct revelation.' Is _that_ all? There is no\nreason, certainly, for expectations so foolish; but is there no\nadamantine reason against them? It is no business of the Bible,\nwe are told, to teach science. Certainly not; but that is far too\nlittle. It is an obligation resting upon the Bible, if it is to\nbe consistent with itself, that it should _refuse_ to teach\nscience; and, if the Bible ever _had_ taught any one art,\nscience, or process of life, capital doubts would have clouded our\nconfidence in the authority of the book. By what caprice, it would\nhave been asked, is a divine mission abandoned suddenly for a human\nmission?  By what caprice is this one science taught, and others\nnot? Or these two, suppose, and not all? But an objection, even\ndeadlier, would have followed. It is clear as is the purpose of\ndaylight, that the whole body of the arts and sciences composes\none vast machinery for the irritation and development of the\nhuman intellect. For this end they exist. To see God, therefore,\ndescending into the arena of science, and contending, as it were,\nfor his own prizes, by teaching science in the Bible, would be to\nsee him intercepting from their self-evident destination, (viz.,\nman's intellectual benefit,) his own problems by solving them\nhimself.  No spectacle could more dishonor the divine idea. _The\nBible must not teach anything that man can teach himself._ Does\nthe doctrine require a revelation?--then nobody but God _can_\nteach it. Does it require none?--then in whatever case God\nhas qualified man to do a thing for himself, he has in that very\nqualification silently laid an injunction upon man to do it, by\ngiving the power. But it is fancied that a divine teacher, without\ndescending to the unworthy office of teaching science, might yet\nhave kept his own language free from all collusion with human error.\nHence, for instance, it was argued at one time, that any language\nin the Bible implying the earth to be stationary, and central to\nour system, could not not have been a compliance with the popular\nerrors of the time, but must be taken to express the absolute truth.\nAnd so grew the anti-Galilean fanatics. Out of similar notions have\nrisen the absurdities of a polemic Bible chronology, &c. [Footnote:\nThe Bible cosmology stands upon another footing. _That_\nis not gathered from a casual expression, shaped to meet popular\ncomprehension, but is delivered directly, formally, and elaborately,\nas a natural preface to the history of man and his habitation.\nHere, accordingly, there is no instance of accommodation to vulgar\nignorance; and the persuasion gains ground continually that the\norder of succession in the phenomena of creation will be eventually\nconfirmed by scientific geology, so far as this science may ever\nsucceed in unlinking the steps of the process. Nothing, in fact,\ndisturbs the grandeur and solemnity of the Mosaical cosmogony,\nexcept (as usual) the ruggedness of the bibliolater. He, finding\nthe English word _day_ employed in the measurement of the\nintervals, takes it for granted that this must mean a _nychthemeron_\nof twenty-four hours; imports, therefore, into the biblical text\nthis conceit; fights for his own opinion, as for a revelation from\nheaven; and thus disfigures the great inaugural chapter of human\nhistory with this single feature of a fairy-tale, where everything\nelse is told with the most majestic simplicity. But this word, which\nso ignorantly he presumes to be an ordinary human day, bears that\nmeaning only in common historical transactions between man and man;\nbut never once in the great prophetic writings, where God comes\nforward as himself the principal agent. It then means always a\nvast and mysterious duration--undetermined, even to this hour, in\nDaniel. The _heptameron_ is not a week, but a shadowy adumbration\nof a week.] Meantime, if a man sets himself steadily to contemplate\nthe consequences which must inevitably have followed any deviation\nfrom the usual erroneous phraseology, he will see the utter\nimpossibility that a teacher (pleading a heavenly mission) could\nallow himself to deviate by one hair's breadth (and why should\nhe wish to deviate?) from the ordinary language of the times.  To\nhave uttered one syllable for instance, that implied motion in the\nearth, would have issued into the following ruins:--_First_,\nit would have tainted the teacher with the suspicion of lunacy;\nand, _secondly_, would have placed him in this inextricable\ndilemma. On the one hand, to answer the questions prompted by his\nown perplexing language, would have opened upon him, as a necessity,\none stage after another of scientific cross-examination, until\nhis spiritual mission would have been forcibly swallowed up in the\nmission of natural philosopher; but, on the other hand, to pause\nresolutely at any one stage of this public examination, and to\nrefuse all further advance, would be, in the popular opinion, to\nretreat as a baffled disputant from insane paradoxes which he had\nnot been able to support. One step taken in that direction was\nfatal, whether the great envoy retreated from his own words to leave\nbehind the impression that he was defeated as a rash speculator,\nor stood to these words, and thus fatally entangled himself in the\ninexhaustible succession of explanations and justifications. In\neither event the spiritual mission was at an end: it would have\nperished in shouts of derision, from which there could have been no\nretreat, and no retrieval of character. The greatest of astronomers,\nrather than seem ostentatious or unseasonably learned, will stoop\nto the popular phrase of the sun's rising, or the sun's motion in\nthe ecliptic. But God, for a purpose commensurate with man's eternal\nwelfare, is by these critics supposed incapable of the same petty\nabstinence.\n\nThe same line of argument applies to all the compliances of Christ\nwith the Jewish prejudices (partly imported from the Euphrates)\nas to demonology, witchcraft, &c. By the way, in this last word,\n'witchcraft,' and the too memorable histories connected with it,\nlies a perfect mine of bibliolatrous madness. As it illustrates the\nfolly and the wickedness of the biliolaters, let us pause upon it.\n\nThe word _witch_, these bibliolaters take it for granted, must\nmean exactly what the original Hebrew means, or the Greek word\nchosen by the LXX.; so much, and neither more nor less. That is,\nfrom total ignorance of the machinery by which language moves,\nthey fancy that every idea and word which exists, or has existed,\nfor any nation, ancient or modern, must have a direct interchangeable\nequivalent in all other languages; and that, if the dictionaries\ndo not show it, _that_ must be because the dictionaries are\nbad. Will these worthy people have the goodness, then, to translate\n_coquette_ into Hebrew, and _post-office_ into Greek? The\nfact is, that all languages, and in the ratio of their development,\noffer ideas absolutely separate and exclusive to themselves. In\nthe highly cultured languages of England, France, and Germany, are\nwords, by thousands, which are strictly untranslatable. They may\nbe approached, but cannot be reflected as from a mirror.  To take\nan image from the language of eclipses, the correspondence between\nthe disk of the original word and its translated representative\nis, in thousands of instances, not _annular;_ the centres do\nnot coincide; the words overlap; and this arises from the varying\nmodes in which different nations _combine_ ideas. The French\nword shall combine the elements, _l, m, n, o_--the nearest\nEnglish word, perhaps, _m, n, o, p_. For instance, in all\nwords applied to the _nuances_ of manners, and generally to\n_social_ differences, how prodigious is the wealth of the French\nlanguage! How merely untranslatable for all Europe! I suppose, my\nbibliolater, you have not yet finished your Hebrew or Samaritan\ntranslation of _coquette_. Well, you shall be excused from _that_,\nif you will only translate it into English. You cannot: you are\nobliged to keep the French word; and yet you take for granted,\nwithout inquiry, that in the word 'witchcraft,' and in the word\n'witch,' applied to the sorceress of Endor, our authorized\nEnglish Bible of King James's day must be correct.  And your\nwicked bibliolatrous ancestors proceeded on that idea throughout\nChristendom to murder harmless, friendless, and oftentimes crazy\nold women.  Meantime the witch of Endor in no respect resembled our\nmodern domestic witch.[Footnote: _'The domestic witch.'_--It\nis the common notion that the superstition of the _evil eye_,\nso widely diffused in the Southern lands, and in some, not a slumbering,\nbut a fiercely operative superstition, is unknown in England and\nother Northern latitudes. On the contrary, to my thinking, the regular\nold vulgar witch of England and Scotland was but an impersonatrix\nof the very same superstition. Virgil expresses this mode of sorcery\nto the letter, when his shepherd says--\n\n\n  'Nescio quis teneros _oculus_ mihi fascinat agnos?'\n\n\nPrecisely in that way it was that the British witch operated.\nShe, _by her eye_, blighted the natural powers of growth\nand fertility. By the way, I ought to mention, as a case parallel\nto that of the Bible's recognising witchcraft, and of enlightened\nnations continuing to punish it, that St. Paul himself, in an equal\ndegree, recognises the _evil eye;_ that is, he uses the idea,\n(though certainly not meaning to accredit such an idea,) as one\nthat briefly and energetically conveyed his meaning to those whom\nhe was addressing. 'Oh, foolish Galatians, who hath bewitched you?'\nThat is, literally, who has fascinated your senses by the evil\neye? For the Greek is, _tis umas ebaskanen?_ Now the word\n_ebaskanen_ is a past tense of the verb _baskaino_, which\nwas the technical term for the action of the evil eye. Without\nhaving written a treatise on the \u00c6olic digamma, probably the\nreader is aware that F is V, and that, in many languages, B and\nV are interchangeable letters through thousands of words, as the\nItalian _tavola_, from the Latin _tabula_. Under that little process\nit was that the Greek _baskaino_ transmigrated into the Latin\n_fascino_; so that St. Paul's word, in speaking to the Galatians,\nis the very game word as Virgil's, in speaking of the shepherd's\nflock as charmed by the evil eye.] There was as much difference as\nbetween a Roman Proconsul, surrounded with eagle-bearers, and a\ncommercial Consul's clerk with a pen behind his ear. Apparently\nshe was not so much a Medea as an Erichtho. (See the _Pharsalia_.)\nShe was an _Evocatrix_, or female necromancer, evoking phantoms\nthat stood in some unknown relation to dead men; and then by some\nartifice (it has been supposed) of ventriloquism,[Footnote: I am\nnot referring to German infidels. Very pious commentators have\nconnected her with the _engastrimuthoi_ (\u03b5\u03b3\u03b3\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03bc\u03c5\u03b8\u03bf\u03b9)\nor ventriloquists.] causing these phantoms to deliver oracular\nanswers upon great political questions. Oh, that one had lived in\nthe times of those New-England wretches that desolated whole\ndistricts and terrified vast provinces by their judicial murders\nof witches, under plea of a bibliolatrous warrant; until at last\nthe fiery furnace, which they had heated for women and children,\nshot forth flames that, like those of Nebuchadnezzar's furnace,\nseizing upon his very agents, began to reach some of the murderous\njudges and denouncers!\n\nYet, after all, are there not express directions in Scripture to\nexterminate witches from the land? Certainly; but _that_ does\nnot argue any scriptural recognition of witchcraft as a possible\noffence. An imaginary crime may imply a criminal intention that is\n_not_ imaginary; but also, which much more directly concerns\nthe interests of a state, a criminal purpose, that rests upon a\npure delusion, may work by means that are felonious for ends that\nare fatal. At this moment, we English and the Spaniards have laws,\nand severe ones, against witchcraft, viz., in the West Indies, and\nindispensable it is that we should. The Obeah man from Africa can\ndo no mischief to one of us. The proud and enlightened white man\ndespises his arts; and for _him_, therefore, these arts have\nno existence, for they work only through strong preconceptions of\ntheir reality, and through trembling faith in their efficacy.  But\nby that very agency they are all-sufficient for the ruin of the\npoor credulous negro; he is mastered by original faith, and has\nperished thousands of times under the knowledge that _Obi_\nhad been set for him.  Justly, therefore, do our colonial courts\npunish the Obeah sorcerer, who (though an impostor) is not the\nless a murderer. Now the Hebrew witchcraft was probably even worse;\nequally resting on delusions, nevertheless, equally it worked for\nunlawful ends, and (which chiefly made it an object of divine wrath)\nit worked _through_ idolatrous agencies. It must, therefore,\nhave kept up that connection with idolatry which it was the\nunceasing effort of the Hebrew polity to exterminate from the land.\nConsequently, the Hebrew commonwealth might, as consistently as\nour own, denounce and punish witchcraft without liability to the\ninference that it therefore recognised the pretensions of witches\nas real, in the sense of working their bad ends by the means which\nthey alleged. Their magic was causatively of no virtue at all, but,\nbeing believed in, through this belief it became the occasional\nmeans of exciting the imagination of its victims; after which the\nconsequences were the same as if the magic had acted physically\naccording to its pretences. [Footnote: Does that argument not cover\n'the New England wretches' so unreservedly denounced in a preceding\nparagraph?--ED.]\n\nII. _Development_, as applicable to Christianity, is a doctrine\nof the very days that are passing over our heads, and due to Mr.\nNewman, originally the ablest son of Puseyism, but now a powerful\narchitect of religious philosophy on his own account. I should have\ndescribed him more briefly as a 'master-builder,' had my ear been\nable to endure a sentence ending with two consecutive trochees,\nand each of those trochees ending with the same syllable _er_.\nAh, reader! I would the gods had made thee rhythmical, that thou\nmightest comprehend the thousandth part of my labors in the evasion\nof cacophon. _Phil_. has a general dislike to the Puseyites,\nthough he is too learned to be ignorant, (as are often the Low-Church,\nor Evangelical, party in England,) that, in many of their supposed\ninnovations, the Puseyites were really only restoring what the\ntorpor of the eighteenth century had suffered to go into disuse. They\nwere _reforming_ the Church in the sense sometimes belonging\nto the particle _re_, viz., _retroforming_ it, moulding\nit back into compliance with its original form and model. It is\ntrue that this effort for quickening the Church, and for adorning\nher exterior service, moved under the impulse of too undisguised\na sympathy with Papal Rome. But there is no great reason to mind\n_that_ in our age and our country. Protestant zealotry may\nbe safely relied on in this island as a match for Popish bigotry.\nThere will be no love lost between them--be assured of _that_--and\njustice will be done to both, though neither should do it to her\nrival; for philosophy, which has so long sought only amusement\nin either, is in these latter days of growing profundity applying\nherself steadily to the profound truths which dimly are descried\nlurking in both. It is these which Mr. Newman is likely to illuminate,\nand not the faded forms of an obsolete ceremonial that cannot now\nbe restored effectually, were it even important that they should.\nStrange it is, however, that he should open his career by offering\nto Rome, as a mode of homage, this doctrine of development, which\nis the direct inversion of her own. Rome founds herself upon the\nidea, that to _her_, by tradition and exclusive privilege,\nwas communicated, once for all, the whole truth from the beginning.\nMr. Newman lays his corner-stone in the very opposite idea of a\ngradual development given to Christianity by the motion of time,\nby experience, by expanding occasions, and by the progress of\ncivilization.  Is Newmanism likely to prosper? Let me tell a little\nanecdote. Twenty years ago, roaming one day (as I had so often the\nhonor to do) with our immortal Wordsworth, 1 took the liberty of\ntelling him, at a point of our walk, where nobody could possibly\noverhear me, unless it were old Father Helvellyn, that I feared\nhis theological principles were not quite so sound as his friends\nwould wish. They wanted repairing a little. But, what was worse,\nI did not see how they _could_ be repaired in the particular\ncase which prompted my remark, for in that place, to repair, or\nin any respect to alter, was to destroy. It was a passage in the\n'Excursion,' where the Solitary had described the baptismal rite\nas washing away the taint of original sin, and, in fact, working\nthe effect which is called technically _regeneration_. In\nthe 'Excursion' this view was advanced, not as the poet's separate\nopinion, but as the avowed doctrine of the English Church, to which\nChurch Wordsworth and myself yielded gladly a filial reverence. But\n_was_ this the doctrine of the English Church? _That_ I\ndoubted--not that I pretended to any sufficient means of valuing\nthe preponderant opinion between two opinions in the Church; a\nprocess far more difficult than is imagined by historians, always\nso ready to tell us fluently what 'the nation' or 'the people'\nthought upon a particular question, (whilst, in fact, a whole life\nmight be often spent vainly in collecting the popular opinion); but,\njudging by my own casual experience, I fancied that a considerable\nmajority in the Church gave an interpretation to this Sacrament\ndiffering by much from that in the 'Excursion.' Wordsworth was startled\nand disturbed at hearing it whispered even before Helvellyn, who is\nold enough to keep a secret, that his divinity might possibly limp\na little.  I, on _my_ part, was not sure that it _did_,\nbut I feared so; and, as there was no chance that I should be\nmurdered for speaking freely, (though the place was lonely, and the\nevening getting dusky,) I stood to my disagreeable communication\nwith the courage of a martyr. The question between us being one\nof mere fact, (not what _ought_ to be the doctrine, but what\n_was_ the doctrine of our Church at that time,) there was no\nopening for any discussion; and, on Wordsworth's suggestion, it was\nagreed to refer the point to his learned brother, Dr.  Christopher\nWordsworth, just then meditating a visit to his native lakes. That\nvisit in a short time 'came off,' and then, without delay, our\ndispute 'came on' for judgment. I had no bets upon the issue--one\ncan't bet with Wordsworth--and I don't know that I should have\nventured to back myself in a case of that nature.  However, I felt\na slight anxiety on the subject, which was very soon and kindly\nremoved by Dr. Wordsworth's deciding, 'sans phrase,' that I, the\noriginal mover of the strife, was wrong, wrong as wrong could be.\nTo this decision I bowed at once, on a principle of courtesy. One\nought always to presume a man right within his own _profession_\neven if privately one should think him wrong. But I could not think\n_that_ of Dr. Wordsworth. He was a D.D.; he was head of Trinity\nCollege, which has _my_ entire permission to hold its head up\namongst twenty and more colleges, as the leading one in Cambridge,\n(provided it can obtain St. John's permission), 'and which,' says\n_Phil_., 'has done more than any other foundation in Europe for\nthe enlightenment of the world, and for the overthrow of literary,\nphilosophical, and religious superstitions,' I quarrel not with\nthis bold assertion, remembering reverentially that Isaac Barrow,\nthat Isaac Newton, that Richard Bentley belonged to Trinity, but\nI wish to understand it. The total pretensions of the College can\nbe known only to its members; and therefore, _Phil_. should have\nexplained himself more fully.  He _can_ do so, for _Phil_.\nis certainly a Trinity man. If the police are in search of him,\nthey'll certainly hear of him at Trinity. Suddenly it strikes me\nas a dream, that Lord Bacon belonged to this College. Don't laugh\nat me, _Phil_., if I'm wrong, and still less (because then\nyou'll laugh even more ferociously) if I happen to be right. Can\none remember everything? Ah! the worlds of distracted facts that\none ought to remember.  Would to heaven that I remembered nothing\nat all, and had nothing to remember! This thing, however, I certainly\n_do_ remember, that Milton was _not_ of Trinity, nor Jeremy\nTaylor; so don't think to hoax me there, my parent! Dr. Wordsworth\nwas, or had been, an examining chaplain to the Archbishop of\nCanterbury.  If Lambeth could be at fault on such a question, then\nit's of no use going to Newcastle for coals. Delphi, we all know,\nand Jupiter Ammon had vanished. What other court of appeal was\nknown to man? So I submitted as cheerfully as if the learned Doctor,\ninstead of kicking me out of court, had been handing me in.  Yet,\nfor all that, as I returned musing past Rydal Water, I could not\nhelp muttering to myself--Ay, now, what rebellious thought was\nit that I muttered? You fancy, reader, that perhaps I said, 'But\nyet, Doctor, in spite of your wig, I am in the right.' No; you're\nquite wrong; I said nothing of the sort. What I _did_ mutter\nwas this--'The prevailing doctrine of the Church must be what Dr.\nWordsworth says, viz., that baptism _is_ regeneration--he\ncannot be mistaken as to _that_--and I have been misled by\nthe unfair proportion of Evangelical people, bishops, and others,\nwhom accident has thrown in my way at Barley Wood (Hannah More's).\nThese, doubtless, form a minority in the Church; and yet, from the\nstrength of their opinions, from their being a moving party, as\nalso from their being a growing party, I prophesy this issue, that\nmany years will not pass before this very question, now slumbering,\nwill rouse a feud within the English Church.  There is a quarrel\nbrewing. Such feuds, long after they are ripe for explosion, sometimes\nslumber on, until accident kindles them into flame.' That accident\nwas furnished by the tracts of the Puseyites, and since then,\naccording to the word which I spoke on Rydal Water, there has been\nopen war raging upon this very point.\n\nAt present, with even more certainty, I prophesy that mere necessity,\na necessity arising out of continual collisions with sceptical\nphilosophy, will, in a few years, carry all churches enjoying a\nlearned priesthood into the disputes connected with this doctrine\nof development.  _Phil_., meantime, is no friend to that Newmanian\ndoctrine; and in sect.31, p.66, he thus describes it:--'According\nto these writers' (viz., the writers 'who advocate the theory of\ndevelopment'), 'the progressive and gradual development of religious\ntruth, which appears to _us_' (_us_, meaning, I suppose,\nthe _Old_-mannians,) 'to have been terminated by the final\nrevelation of the Gospel, has been going on ever since the foundation\nof the Church, is going on still, and must continue to advance.\nThis theory presumes that the Bible does not contain a full and\nfinal exposition of a complete system of religion; that the Church\nhas developed from the Scriptures true doctrines not explicitly\ncontained therein,' &c. &c.\n\nBut, without meaning to undertake a defence of Mr.  Newman (whose\nbook I am as yet too slenderly acquainted with), may I be allowed,\nat this point, to intercept a fallacious view of that doctrine, as\nthough essentially it proclaimed some imperfection in Christianity.\nThe imperfection is in us, the Christians, not in Christianity.\nThe impression given by _Phil._ to the hasty reader is, that,\naccording to Newmanism, the Scriptures make a good beginning to which\nwe ourselves are continually adding--a solid foundation, on which\nwe ourselves build the superstructure. Not so. In the course of a\nday or a year, the sun passes through a vast variety of positions,\naspects, and corresponding powers, in relation to ourselves. Daily\nand annually he is _developed_ to us--he runs a cycle of\ndevelopment.  Yet, after all, this practical result does not argue\nany change or imperfection, growth or decay, in the sun.  This great\norb is stationary as regards his place, and unchanging as regards\nhis power. It is the subjective change in ourselves that projects\nitself into this endless succession of phantom changes in the\nobject. Not otherwise on the scheme of development; the Christian\ntheory and system are perfect from the beginning.  In itself,\nChristianity changes not, neither waxing nor waning; but the\nmotions of time and the evolutions of experience continually uncover\nnew parts of its stationary disk. The orb _grows_, so far as\npractically we are speaking of our own benefit; but absolutely,\nas regards itself, the orb, eternally the same, has simply more\nor fewer of its digits exposed. Christianity, perfect from the\nbeginning, had a curtain over much of its disk, which Time and\nSocial Progress are continually withdrawing.  This I say not as any\ndeliberate judgment on development, but merely as a suspending, or\n_ad interim_ idea, by way of barring too summary an interdict\nagainst the doctrine at this premature stage. _Phil_., however,\nhardens his face against Newman and all his works.  Him and them\nhe defies; and would consign, perhaps secretly, to the care of a\nwell-known (not new, but) old gentleman, if only he had any faith\nin that old gentleman's existence. On that point, he is a fixed\ninfidel, and quotes with applause the answer of Robinson, the once\ncelebrated Baptist clergyman, who being asked if he believed in\nthe devil, replied, 'Oh, no; I, for my part, believe in God--don't\n_you_?'\n\n_Phil_., therefore, as we have seen, in effect, condemns\ndevelopment. But, at p. 33, when as yet he is not thinking of Mr.\nNewman, he says,' If knowledge is progressive, the development\nof Christian doctrine must be progressive likewise.' I do not see\nthe _must_; but I see the Newmanian cloven foot. As to the\n_must_, knowledge is certainly progressive; but the development\nof the multiplication table is not therefore progressive, nor\nof anything else that is finished from the beginning. My reason,\nhowever, for quoting the sentence is, because here we suddenly\ndetect _Phil_. in laying down the doctrine which in Mr. Newman\nhe had regarded as heterodox. _Phil_. is taken red-hand, as the\nEnglish law expresses it, crimson with, the blood of his offence;\nassuming, in fact, an original imperfection _quoad_ the\n_scire_, though not _quoad_ the _esse;_ as to the\n'_exposition_ of the system,' though not as to the '_system_'\nof Christianity. Mr. Newman, after all, asserts (I believe) only\none mode of development as applicable to Christianity. _Phil_.\nhaving broke the ice, may now be willing to allow of two developments;\nwhilst I, that am always for going to extremes, should be disposed\nto assert three, viz:--\n\n_First._ The _Philological_ development. And this is a\npoint on which I, _Philo-Phil_. (or, as for brevity you may\ncall me, _Phil-Phil_.) shall, without wishing to do so, vex\n_Phil_. It's shocking that one should vex the author of one's\nexistence, which _Phil_. certainly is in relation to me,\nwhen considered as _Phil-Phil_. Still it is past all denial,\nthat, to a certain extent, the Scriptures must benefit, like any\nother book, by an increasing accuracy and compass of learning in\nthe _exegesis_ applied to them. But if all the world denied\nthis, _Phil_., my parent, is the man that cannot; since he it\nis that relies upon philological knowledge as the one resource of\nChristian philosophy in all circumstances of difficulty for any\nof its interests, positive or negative.  Philology, according to\n_Phil_, is the sheet-anchor of Christianity. Already it is\nthe author of a Christianity more in harmony with philosophy; and,\nas regards the future, _Phil_., it is that charges Philology\nwith the whole service of divinity. Wherever anything, being right,\nneeds to be defended--wherever anything, being amiss, needs to be\nimproved--oh! what a life he will lead this poor Philology! Philology,\nwith _Phil_., is the great benefactress for the past, and\nthe sole trustee for the future. Here, therefore, _Phil_., is\ncaught in a fix, _habemus confitentem_. He denounces development\nwhen dealing with the Newmanites; he relies on it when vaunting the\nfunctions of Philology; and the only evasion for _him_ would\nbe to distinguish about the modes of development, were it not that,\nby insinuation, he has apparently denied all modes.\n\n_Secondly_. There is the _Philosophic_ development, from\nthe reaction upon the Bible of advancing knowledge.  This is a\nmode of development continually going on, and reversing the steps\nof past human follies.  In every age, man has imported his own\ncrazes into the Bible, fancied that he saw them there, and then\ndrawn sanctions to his wickedness or absurdity from what were nothing\nelse than fictions of his own. Thus did the Papists draw a plenary\njustification of intolerance, or even of atrocious persecution,\nfrom the evangelical '_Compel them to come in!_' The right of\nunlimited coercion was read in those words. People, again, that were\ndemocratically given, or had a fancy for treason, heard a trumpet\nof insurrection in the words '_To your tents, oh Israel!_' But\nfar beyond these in multitude were those that drew from the Bible\nthe most extravagant claims for kings and rulers.  'Rebellion was\nas the sin of witchcraft.' This was a jewel of a text; it killed\ntwo birds with one stone.  Broomsticks were proved out of it most\nclearly, and also the atrocity of representative government. What\na little text to contain so much! Look into Algernon Sidney, or into\nLocke's controversy with Sir Eobert Filmer's 'Patriarcha,'[Footnote:\nI mention the _book_ as the antagonist, and not the man,\nbecause (according to my impression) Sir Robert was dead when Locke\nwas answering him.] or into any books of those days on political\nprinciples, and it will be found that Scripture was so used as to\nform an absolute bar against human progress. All public benefits\nwere, in the strictest sense of the word, _precarious_, as\ndepending upon prayers and entreaties to those who had an interest\nin refusing them. All improvements were elcemosynary; for the\ninitial step in all cases belonged to the Crown. 'The right divine\nof kings to govern wrong' was in those days what many a man would\nhave died for--what many a man _did_ die for; and all in pure\nsimplicity of heart--faithful to the Bible, but to the Bible of\nmisinterpretation. They obeyed (often to their own ruin) an order\nwhich they had misread.  Their sincerity, the disinterestedness of\ntheir folly, is evident; and in that degree is evident the opening\nfor Scripture development. Nobody could better obey Scripture as\n_they_ had understood it. Change in the obedience, there could\nbe none for the better; it demanded only that there should be a\nchange in the interpretation, and that change would be what is meant\nby a development of Scripture. Two centuries of enormous progress\nin the relations between subjects and rulers have altered the whole\nreading. '_How readest thou?_' was the question of Christ\nhimself; that is, in what meaning dost thou read the particular\nScripture that applies to this case? All the texts and all the\ncases remain at this hour just as they were for our ancestors; and\nour reverence for these texts is as absolute as theirs; but we,\napplying lights of experience which _they_ had not, construe\nthese texts by a different logic. _There_ now is development\napplied to the Bible in one of its many _strata_--that _stratum_\nwhich connects itself most with civil polity. Again, what a\ndevelopment have we made of Christian truth; how differently do\nwe now read our Bibles in relation to the poor tenants of dungeons\nthat once were thought, even by Christian nations, to have no\nrights at all!--in relation to 'all prisoners and captives;' and in\nrelation to slaves! The New Testament had said nothing _directly_\nupon the question of slavery; nay, by the misreader it was rather\nsupposed _indirectly_ to countenance that institution.  But\nmark--it is Mohammedanism, having little faith in its own laws,\nthat dares not confide in its children for developing anything, but\nmust tie them up for every contingency by the _letter_ of a\nrule. Christianity--how differently does _she_ proceed! She\nthrows herself broadly upon the pervading spirit which burns within\nher morals. 'Let them alone,' she says of nations; 'leave them to\nthemselves. I have put a new law into their hearts; and if it is\nreally there, and really cherished, that law will tell them--will\ndevelop for them--what it is that they ought to do in every case as\nit arises, when once its consequences are comprehended.' No need,\ntherefore, for the New Testament _explicitly_ to forbid slavery;\nsilently and _implicitly_ it is forbidden in many passages of\nthe New Testament, and it is at war with the spirit of all. Besides,\nthe religion which trusts to formal and literal rules breaks down\nthe very moment that a new case arises not described in the rules.\nSuch a case is virtually unprovided for, if it does not answer to\na circumstantial textual description; whereas _every_ case\nis provided for, as soon as its tendencies and its moral relations\nare made known, by a religion that speaks through a spiritual organ\nto a spiritual apprehension in man. Accordingly, we find that,\nwhenever a new mode of intoxication is introduced, not depending\nupon grapes, the most devout Mussulmans hold themselves absolved\nfrom the restraints of the Koran. And so it would have been with\nChristians, if the New Testament had laid down _literal_\nprohibitions of slavery, or of the slave traffic.  Thousands of\nvariations would have been developed by time which no _letter_\nof Scripture could have been comprehensive enough to reach. Were\nthe domestic servants of Greece, the \u03be\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 (_thetes_),\nwithin the description? Were the _serfs_ and the _ascripti\nglebae_ of feudal Europe to be accounted slaves? Or those amongst\nour own brothers and sisters, that within so short a period were\nborn subterraneously,[Footnote: See, for some very interesting\nsketches of this Pariah population, the work (title I forget) of\nMr. Bald, a Scottish engineer, well known and esteemed in Edinburgh\nand Glasgow. He may be relied on. What he tells against Scotland\nis violently against his own will, for he is intensely national, of\nwhich I will give the reader one instance that may make him smile.\nMuch of the rich, unctuous coal, from Northumberland and Durham,\ngives a deep ruddy light, verging to a blood-red, and certainly is\nrather sullen, on a winter evening, to the eye. On the other hand,\nthe Scottish coal or most of it, being far poorer as to heat, throws\nout a very beautiful and animated scarlet blaze; upon which hint,\nMr.  Bald, when patriotically distressed at not being able to deny\nthe double power of the eastern English coal, suddenly revivifies\nhis Scottish heart that had been chilled, perhaps, by the Scottish\ncoals in his fire-grate, upon recurring to this picturesque difference\nin the two blazes--'Ah!' he says gratefully, 'that Newcastle blaze\nis well enough for a \"gloomy\" Englishman, but it wouldn't do at\nall for cheerful Scotland.'] in Scottish mines, or in the English\ncollieries of Cumberland, and were supposed to be _ascripti\nmetallo_, sold by nature to the mine, and indorsed upon its\nmachinery for the whole term of their lives; in whom, therefore,\nit was a treason to see the light of upper day--would _they_,\nwould these poor Scotch and English Pariahs, have stood within any\nscriptural privilege if the New Testament had legislated by name\nand letter for this class of _douloi_ (slaves)?  No attorney\nwould have found them entitled to plead the benefit of the\nBible statute. Endless are the variations of the conditions that\nnew combinations of society would bring forward; endless would be\nthe virtual restorations of slavery that would take place under a\nMahometan literality; endless would be the defeats that such restorations\nmust sustain under a Christianity relying on no _letter_, but\non the _spirit_ of God's commandments, and that will understand\nno equivocations with the secret admonitions of the heart. Meantime,\nthis sort of development, it may be objected, is not a light that\nScripture throws out upon human life so much as a light that human\nlife and its development throw back upon Scripture. True; but then\nhow was it possible that life and the human intellect should be\ncarried forward to such developments? Solely through the training\nwhich both had received under the discipline of Christian truth.\nChristianity utters some truth widely applicable to society. This\ntruth is caught up by some influential organ of social life--is\nexpanded prodigiously by human experience, and, when travelling\nback as an illustrated or improved text to the Bible, is found to\nbe made up, in all its details, of many human developments.  Does\nthat argue anything disparaging to Christianity, as though _she_\ncontributed little and man contributed much? On the contrary, man\nwould have contributed nothing at all but for that _nucleus_\nby which Christianity started and moulded the principle. To give\none instance--Public charity, when did it commence?--who first\nthought of it? Who first noticed hunger and cold as awful realities\nafflicting poor women and innocent children? Who first made\na public provision to meet these evils?--Constantine it was, the\nfirst Christian that sat upon a throne. Had, then, rich Pagans before\nhis time no charity--no pity?--no money available for hopeless\npoverty? Not much--very little, I conceive; about so much as\nShakspeare insinuates that there is of milk in a male tiger. Think,\nfor instance, of that black-hearted reprobate, Cicero, the moralist.\nThis moral knave, who wrote such beautiful Ethics, and _was_\nso wicked--who spoke so charmingly and acted so horribly--mentions,\nwith a petrifying coolness, that he knew of desolate old women in\nRome who passed three days in succession without tasting food. Did\nnot the wretch, when thinking of this, leap up, and tumble down\nstairs in his anxiety to rush abroad and call a public meeting\nfor considering so dreadful a case? Not he; the man continued to\nstrut about his library, in a huge toga as big as the _Times_\nnewspaper, singing out, '_Oh! fortunatam natam me Consule\nRomam!_' and he mentioned the fact at all only for the sake of\nNatural Philosophers or of the curious in old women. Charity, even\nin that sense, had little existence--nay, as a duty, it had no\nplace or rubric in human conceptions before Christianity, Thence\ncame the first rudiments of all public relief to starving men and\nwomen; but the idea, the principle, was all that the Bible furnished,\nneeded to furnish, or could furnish. The practical arrangements,\nthe endless details for carrying out this Christian idea--these\nwere furnished by man; and why not? This case illustrates only one\namongst innumerable modes of development applicable to the Bible;\nand this power of development, in general, proves also one other\nthing of the last importance to prove, viz. the power of Christianity\nto work in co-operation with time and social progress; to work\nvariably according to the endless variations of time and place; and\n_that_ is the exact _shibboleth_ of a true and spiritual\nreligion--for, on reviewing the history of false religions, and\ninquiring what it was that ruined them, rarely is it found that any\nof them perished by external violence. Even the dreadful fury of\nthe early Mahometan Sultans in India, before the house of Timour,\nfailed to crush the monstrous idolatries of the Hindoos. All\nfalse religions have perished by their own hollowness, under that\nsearching trial applied by social life and its changes, which awaits\nevery mode of religion. One after another they have sunk away, as\nby palsy, from new aspects of society and new necessities of man\nwhich they were not able to face. Commencing in one condition of\nsociety, in one set of feelings, and in one system of ideas, they\nsank uniformly under any great change in these elements, to which\nthey had no natural power of accommodation. A false religion\nfurnished a key to one subordinate lock; but a religion that is true\nwill prove a master-key for all locks alike. This transcendental\nprinciple, by which Christianity transfers herself so readily from\nclimate to climate,[Footnote: Sagacious Mahometans have been often\nscandalized and troubled by the secret misgiving that, after all,\ntheir Prophet must have been an ignorant fellow. It is clear that\nthe case of a cold climate had never occurred to him; and even a\nhot one had been conceived most narrowly. Many of the Bedouin Arabs\ncomplain of ablutions not adapted to their waterless condition.\nThese evidences of oversight would have been fatal to Islamism, had\nIslamism produced a high civilization.] from century to century,\nfrom the simplicity of shepherds to the utmost refinement of\nphilosophers, carries with it a necessity, corresponding to such\ninfinite flexibility of endless development.\n\n\n\n\nON THE SUPPOSED SCRIPTURAL EXPRESSION FOR ETERNITY.\n\n[1852.]\n\n\nForty years ago (or, in all probability, a good deal more, for we\nhave already completed thirty-seven years from Waterloo, and my\nremembrances upon this subject go back to a period lying much behind\nthat great era), I used to be annoyed and irritated by the false\ninterpretation given to the Greek word _aion_, and given\nnecessarily, therefore, to the adjective _aionios_ as its\nimmediate derivative. It was not so much the falsehood of this\ninterpretation, as the narrowness of that falsehood, which disturbed\nme. There was a glimmer of truth in it; and precisely that glimmer\nit was which led the way to a general and obstinate misconception\nof the meaning. The word is remarkably situated. It is a scriptural\nword, and it is also a Greek word; from which the inevitable inference\nis, that we must look for it only in the _New_ Testament.  Upon\nany question arising of deep, aboriginal, doctrinal truth, we have\nnothing to do with translations.  Those are but secondary questions,\narchaeological and critical, upon which we have a right to consult\nthe Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures known by the name\nof the Septuagint.\n\nSuffer me to pause at this point for the sake of premising an\nexplanation needful to the unlearned reader.  As the _reading_\npublic and the _thinking_ public is every year outgrowing more\nand more notoriously the mere _learned_ public, it becomes\nevery year more and more the right of the former public to give the\nlaw preferably to the latter public, upon all points which concern\nits own separate interests. In past generations, no pains were taken\nto make explanations that were not called for by the _learned_\npublic. All other readers were ignored. They formed a mob, for whom\nno provision was made. And that many difficulties should be left\nentirely unexplained for _them_, was superciliously assumed\nto be no fault at all. And yet any sensible man, let him be as\nsupercilious as he may, must on consideration allow that amongst\nthe crowd of unlearned or half-learned readers, who have had neither\ntime nor opportunities for what is called 'erudition' or learned\nstudies, there must always lurk a proportion of men that, by\nconstitution of mind, and by the bounty of nature, are much better\nfitted for thinking, originally more philosophic, and are more\ncapaciously endowed, than those who are, by accident of position,\nmore learned. Such a natural superiority certainly takes precedency\nof a merely artificial superiority; and, therefore, it entitles\nthose who possess it to a special consideration. Let there be an\naudience gathered about any book of ten thousand one hundred readers:\nit might be fair in these days to assume that ten thousand would be\nin a partial sense illiterate, and the remaining one hundred what\nwould be rigorously classed as 'learned.' Now, on such a distribution\nof the readers, it would be a matter of certainty that the most\npowerful intellects would lie amongst the illiterate ten thousand,\ncounting, probably, to fifteen to one as against those in the\nlearned minority. The inference, therefore, would be, that, in all\nequity, the interest of the unlearned section claimed a priority\nof attention, not merely as the more numerous section, but also\nas, by a high probability, the more philosophic. And in proportion\nas this unlearned section widens and expands, which every year it\ndoes, in that proportion the obligation and cogency of this equity\nstrengthens. An attention to the unlearned part of an audience, which\nfifteen years ago might have rested upon pure courtesy, _now_\nrests upon a basis of absolute justice. I make this preliminary\nexplanation, in order to take away the appearance of caprice from\nsuch occasional pauses as I may make for the purpose of clearing\nup obscurities or difficulties. Formerly, in a case of that nature,\nthe learned reader would have told me that I was not entitled to\ndelay _him_ by elucidations that in _his_ case must be supposed to\nbe superfluous: and in such a remonstrance there would once have\nbeen some equity. The illiterate section of the readers might\nthen be fairly assumed as present only by accident; as no abiding\npart of the audience; but, like the general public in the gallery\nof the House of Commons, as present only by sufferance; and\nofficially in any records of the house whatever, utterly ignored\nas existences. At present, half way on our pilgrimage through the\nnineteenth century, I reply to such a learned remonstrant--that it\ngives me pain to annoy him by superfluous explanations, but that,\nunhappily, this infliction of tedium upon _him_ is inseparable\nfrom what has now become a duty to others. This being said, I now\ngo on to inform the illiterate reader, that the earliest translation\nof the Hebrew Scriptures ever made was into Greek. It was undertaken\non the encouragement of a learned prince, Ptolemy Philadelphus, by\nan association of Jewish emigrants in Alexandria. It was, as the\nevent has shown in very many instances, an advantage of a rank rising\nto providential, that such a cosmopolitan version of the Hebrew\nsacred writings should have been made at a moment when a rare\nconcurrence of circumstances happened to make it possible; such\nas, for example, a king both learned in his tastes and liberal in\nhis principles of religious toleration; a language, viz., the Greek,\nwhich had already become, what for many centuries it continued to\nbe, a common language of communication for the learned of the whole\n\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b4\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7 (_i.e._, in effect of the civilized world,\nviz., Greece, the shores of the Euxine, the whole of Asia Minor,\nSyria, Egypt, Carthage, and all the dependencies of Carthage,\nfinally, and above all, Rome, then beginning to loom upon the\nwestern horizon), together with all the dependencies of Rome, and,\nbriefly, every state and city that adorned the imperial islands of\nthe Mediterranean, or that glittered like gems in that vast belt\nof land, roundly speaking, one thousand miles in average breadth,\nand in circuit running up to five thousand miles. One thousand\nmultiplied into five times one thousand, or, otherwise expressed,\na thousand thousand five times repeated, or otherwise a million\nfive times repeated, briefly a territory measuring five millions\nof square miles, or forty-five times the surface of our two British\nislands--such was the boundless domain which this extraordinary\nact of Ptolemy suddenly threw open to the literature and spiritual\nrevelation of a little obscure race, nestling in a little angle of\nAsia, scarcely visible as a fraction of Syria, buried in the broad\nshadows thrown out on one side by the great and ancient settlements\non the Nile, and on the other by the vast empire that for thousands\nof years occupied the Tigris and the Euphrates. In the twinkling\nof an eye, at a sudden summons, as it were from the sounding of\na trumpet, or the oriental call by a clapping of hands, gates are\nthrown open, which have an effect corresponding in grandeur to the\neffect that would arise from the opening of a ship canal across\nthe Isthmus of Darien, viz., the introduction to each other--face\nto face--of two separate infinities.  Such a canal would suddenly\nlay open to each other the two great oceans of our planet, the\nAtlantic and the Pacific; whilst the act of translating _into_\nGreek and _from_ Hebrew, that is, transferring out of a\nmysterious cipher as little accessible as Sanscrit, and which never\n_would_ be more accessible through any worldly attractions of\nalliance with power and civic grandeur or commerce, _out of_\nthis darkness _into_ the golden light of a language the most\nbeautiful, the most honored amongst men, and the most widely diffused\nthrough a thousand years to come, had the immeasurable effect of\nthrowing into the great crucible of human speculation, even then\nbeginning to ferment, to boil, to overthrow--that mightiest of all\nelements for exalting the chemistry of philosophy--grand and, for\nthe first time, adequate conceptions of the Deity.  For, although\nit is true that, until Elias should come--that is, until Christianity\nshould have applied its final revelation to the completion of this\ngreat idea-we could not possess it in its total effulgence, it is,\nhowever, certain that an immense advance was made, a prodigious\nusurpation across the realms of chaos, by the grand illuminations\nof the Hebrew discoveries.  Too terrifically austere we must presume\nthe Hebrew idea to have been: too undeniably it had not withdrawn\nthe veil entirely which still rested upon the Divine countenance;\nso much is involved in the subsequent revelations of Christianity.\nBut still the advance made in reading aright the divine lineaments\nhad been enormous.  God was now a holy spirit that could not tolerate\nimpurity. He was the fountain of justice, and no longer disfigured\nby any mode of sympathy with human caprice or infirmity. And, if\na frown too awful still rested upon his face, making the approach\nto him too fearful for harmonizing with that perfect freedom and\nthat childlike love which God seeks in his worshippers, it was yet\nmade evident that no step for conciliating his favor did or could\nlie through any but _moral_ graces.\n\nThree centuries after this great epoch of the _publication_\n(for such it was) secured so providentially to the Hebrew theology,\ntwo learned Jews--viz., Josephus and Philo Judaeus--had occasion\nto seek a cosmopolitan utterance for that burden of truth (or what\nthey regarded as truth) which oppressed the spirit within them.\nOnce again they found a deliverance from the very same freezing\nimprisonment in an unknown language, through the very same magical\nkey, viz., the all-pervading language of Greece, which carried\ntheir communications to the four winds of heaven, and carried\nthem precisely amongst the class of men, viz.--the enlightened and\neducated class--which pre-eminently, if not exclusively, their wish\nwas to reach. About one generation _after_ Christ it was, when\nthe utter prostration, and, politically speaking, the destruction\nof Jerusalem and the Jewish nation, threw these two learned Jews\nupon this recourse to the Greek language as their final resource,\nin a condition otherwise of absolute hopelessness. Pretty nearly\nthree centuries _before_ Christ it was (two hundred and\neighty-four years, according to the common reckoning), when the first\nact of communication took place between the sealed-up literature\nof Palestine and the Greek catholic interpretation. Altogether,\nwe may say that three hundred and twenty years, or somewhere\nabout ten generations of men, divided these two memorable acts\nof intercommunication. Such a space of time allows a large range\nof influence and of silent, unconscious operation to the vast and\npotent ideas that brooded over this awful Hebrew literature.  Too\nlittle weight has been allowed to the probable contagiousness, and\nto the preternatural shock, of such a new and strange philosophy,\nacting upon the jaded and exhausted intellect of the Grecian race.\nWe must remember, that precisely this particular range of time was\nthat in which the Greek systems of philosophy, having thoroughly\ncompleted their evolution, had suffered something of a collapse;\nand, having exhausted their creative energies, began to gratify\nthe cravings for novelty by re modellings of old forms. It is\nremarkable, indeed, that this very city of Alexandria founded and\nmatured this new principle of remodelling applied to poetry not less\nthan to philosophy and criticism.  And, considering the activity\nof this great commercial city and port, which was meant to act,\nand _did_ act, as a centre of communication between the East\nand the West, it is probable that a far greater effect was produced\nby the Greek translation of the Jewish Scriptures, in the way of\npreparing the mind of nations for the apprehension of Christianity,\nthan has ever been distinctly recognised. The silent destruction\nof books in those centuries has robbed us of all means for tracing\ninnumerable revolutions, that nevertheless, by the evidence of\nresults, must have existed. Taken, however, with or without this\nadditional result, the translation of the Hebrew Scriptures in\ntheir most important portions must be ranked amongst what are called\n`providential' events. Such a king--a king whose father had been\na personal friend of Alexander, the mighty civilizing conqueror,\nand had shared in the liberalization connected with his vast\nrevolutionary projects for extending a higher civilization over\nthe globe, such a king, conversing with such a language, having\nadvantages so absolutely unrivalled, and again this king and this\nlanguage concurring with a treasure so supernatural of spiritual\nwisdom as the subject of their ministrations, and all three\nconcurring with political events so auspicious--the founding of\na new and mighty metropolis in Egypt, and the silent advance to\nsupreme power amongst men of a new empire, martial beyond all precedent\nas regarded _means_, but not as regarded _ends_--working\nin all things towards the unity of civilization and the unity of\nlaw, so that any new impulse, as, for instance, impulse of a new\nreligion, was destined to find new facilities for its own propagation,\nresembling electric conductors, under the unity of government and\nof law--concurrences like these, so many and so strange, justly\nimpress upon this translation, the most memorable, because the most\ninfluential of all that have ever been accomplished, a character\nof grandeur that place it on the same level of interest as the\nbuilding of the first or second temple at Jerusalem.\n\nThere is a Greek legend which openly ascribes to this translation\nall the characters of a miracle. But, as usually happens, this\nvulgarizing form of the miraculous is far less impressive than the\nplain history itself, unfolding its stages with the most unpretending\nhistorical fidelity. Even the Greek language, on which, as the\nnatural language of the new Greek dynasty in Egypt, the duty of\nthe translation devolved, enjoyed a double advantage: 1st, as being\nthe only language then spoken upon earth that could diffuse a book\nover _every_ part of the civilized earth; 2dly, as being a language\nof unparalleled power and compass for expressing and reproducing\neffectually all ideas, however alien and novel. Even the city,\nagain, in which this translation was accomplished, had a double\ndowery of advantages towards such a labor, not only as enjoying a\nlarge literary society, and, in particular, a large Jewish society,\ntogether with unusual provision in the shape of libraries, on\na scale probably at that time unprecedented, but also as having\nthe most extensive machinery then known to human experience for\n_publishing_, that is, for transmitting to foreign capitals\nall books in the readiest and the cheapest fashion, by means of\nits prodigious shipping.\n\nHaving thus indicated to the _unlearned_ reader the particular\nnature of that interest which invests this earliest translation\nof the Hebrew Scriptures, viz., that in fact this translation was\nthe earliest _publication_ to the human race of a revelation\nwhich had previously been locked up in a language destined, as\nsurely as the Welsh language or the Gaelic, to eternal obscurity\namongst men, I go on to mention that the learned Jews selected for\nthis weighty labor happened to be in number seventy-two; but, as\nthe Jews systematically reject fractions in such cases (whence it\nis that always, in order to express the period of six weeks, they\nsay _forty days_, and not, as strictly they should, _forty-two\ndays_), popularly, the translators were called 'the seventy,'\nfor which the Latin word is _septuaginta_.  And thus in after\nages the translators were usually indicated as 'The LXX,' or, if the\nwork and not the workmen should be noticed, it was cited as _The\nSeptuagint_.  In fact, this earliest of Scriptural versions,\nviz., into Greek, is by much the most famous; or, if any other\napproaches it in notoriety, it is the Latin translation by St. Jerome,\nwhich, in this one point, enjoys even a superior importance, that\nin the Church of Rome it is the authorized translation. Evidently,\nin every church, it must be a matter of primary importance to assign\nthe particular version to which that church appeals, and by which,\nin any controversy arising, that church consents to be governed.\nNow, the Jerome version fulfils this function for the Romish Church;\nand accordingly, in the sense of being published (_vulgata_),\nor publicly authorized by that church, it is commonly called _The\nVulgate_.\n\nBut, in a large polemic question, unless, like the Romish church,\nwe uphold a secondary inspiration as having secured a special\nprivileged translation from the possibility of error, we cannot\nrefuse an appeal to the Hebrew text for the Old Testament, or to the\nGreek text for the New. The word _aeonios_ (\u03b1\u03b9\u03c9\u03b7\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2),\nas purely Grecian, could not connect itself with the Old Testament,\nunless it were through the Septuagint translation into Greek.\nNow, with that version, in any case of controversy, none of us,\nProtestants alike or Roman Catholics, have anything whatever to do.\nControversially, we _can_ be concerned only with the original\nlanguage of the Scriptures, with its actual verbal expressions\ntextually produced. To be liable, therefore, to such a textual\ncitation, any Greek word must belong to the _New_ Testament.\nBecause, though the word might happen to occur in the Septuagint,\nyet, since _that_ is merely a translation, for any of us\nwho occupy a controversial place, that is, who are bound by the\nresponsibilities, or who claim the strict privileges of controversy,\nthe Septuagint has no virtual existence. We should not be at\nliberty to allege the Septuagint as any authority, if it happened\nto countenance our own views; and, consequently, we could not be\ncalled on to recognise the Septuagint in any case where it should\nhappen to be against us. I make this preliminary _caveat_, as\nnot caring whether the word _aeonios_ does or does not occur\nin the Septuagint.  Either way, the reader understands that I disown\nthe authority of that version as in any degree affecting myself.\nThe word which, forty years ago, moved my disgust by its servile\nmisinterpretation, was a word proper to the _New_ Testament;\nand any sense which it may have received from an Alexandrian Jew\nin the third century before Christ, is no more relevant to any\ncriticism that I am now going to suggest, than is the classical\nuse of the word _aeon_ (\u03b1\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd) familiar to the learned in\nSophocles or Euripides.\n\nThe reason which gives to this word _aeonian_ what I do not\nscruple to call a _dreadful_ importance, is the same reason, and\nno other, which prompted the dishonesty concerned in the ordinary\ninterpretation of this word. The word happened to connect itself--but\n_that_ was no practical concern of mine; me it had not biassed\nin the one direction, nor should it have biassed any just critic\nin the counter, direction--happened, I say, to connect itself with\nthe ancient dispute upon the _duration_ of future punishments.\nWhat was meant by the _aeonian_ punishments in the next world?\nWas the proper sense of the word _eternal_, or was it not?\nI, for my part, meddled not, nor upon any consideration could have\nbeen tempted to meddle, with a speculation repellent alike by the\nhorror and by the hopeless mystery which invest it. Secrets of the\nprison-house, so afflicting to contemplate steadily, and so hopeless\nof solution, there could be no proper motive for investigating,\nunless the investigation promised a great deal more than it could\never accomplish; and my own feeling as to all such problems is,\nthat they vulgarize what, left to itself, would take its natural\nstation amongst the freezing horrors that Shakspeare dismisses with\nso potent an expression of awe, in a well-known scene of 'Measure\nfor Measure.' I reiterate my protest against being in any way\ndecoyed into the controversy. Perhaps I may have a strong opinion\nupon the subject. But, anticipating the coarse discussions into\nwhich the slightest entertainment of such a question would be\nevery moment approaching, once for all, out of reverential regard\nfor the dignity of human nature, I beg permission to decline the\ncontroversy altogether.\n\nBut does this declinature involve any countenance to a certain\nargument which I began by rejecting as abominable? Most certainly\nnot. That argument runs thus--that the ordinary construction of the\nterm _aeonian_, as equivalent to _everlasting_, could not\npossibly be given up when associated with penal misery, because in\nthat case, and by the very same act, the idea of eternity must be\nabandoned as applicable to the counter-bliss of Paradise. Torment\nand blessedness, it was argued, punishment and beatification, stood\nupon the same level; the same word it was, the word _aeonian_,\nwhich qualified the duration of either; and, if eternity in the most\nrigorous acceptation fell away from the one idea, it must equally\nfall away from the other. Well; be it so. But that would not settle\nthe question. It might be very painful to renounce a long-cherished\nanticipation; but the necessity of doing so could not be received\nas a sufficient reason for adhering to the old unconditional use of\nthe word _aeonian_. The argument is--that we must retain the\nold sense of _eternal_, because else we lose upon one scale what\nwe had gained upon the other. But what then? would be the reasonable\nman's retort. We are not to accept or to reject a new construction\n(if otherwise the more colorable) of the word _aeonian_,\nsimply because the consequences might seem such as upon the whole\nto displease us. We may gain nothing; for by the new interpretation\nour loss may balance our gain; and we may prefer the old arrangement.\nBut how monstrous is all this! We are not summoned as to a choice\nof two different arrangements that may suit different tastes, but\nto a grave question as to what _is_ the sense and operation\nof the word _aeonian_. Let the limitation of the word disturb\nour previous estimate of Paradise, grant that it so disturbs that\nestimate, not the less all such consequences leave the dispute\nexactly where it was; and if a balance of reason can be found for\nlimiting the extent of the word _aeonian_, it will not be the\nless true because it may happen to disturb a crotchet of our own.\n\nMeantime, all this speculation, first and last, is pure nonsense.\n_Aeonian_ does not mean _eternal_; neither does it mean\nof limited duration; nor would the unsettling of _aeonian_ in\nits old use, as applied to punishment, to torment, to misery, &c.,\ncarry with it any necessary unsettling of the idea in its application\nto the beatitudes of Paradise. Pause, reader; and thou, my favored\nand privileged reader, that boastest thyself to be unlearned, pause\ndoubly whilst I communicate my views as to this remarkable word.\n\nWhat is an _aeon_? In the use and acceptation of the Apocalypse,\nit is evidently this, viz., the duration or cycle of existence which\nbelongs to any object, not individually for itself, but universally\nin right of its genus. Kant, for instance, in a little paper which\nI once translated, proposed and debated the question as to the age\nof our planet the Earth. What did he mean? Was he to be understood\nas asking whether the Earth were half a million, two millions, or\nthree millions of years old? Not at all. The probabilities certainly\nlean, one and all, to the assignment of an antiquity greater by\nmany thousands of times than that which we have most idly supposed\nourselves to extract from Scripture, which assuredly never meant to\napproach a question so profoundly irrelevant to the great purposes\nof Scripture as any geological speculation whatsoever. But this\nwas not within the field of Kant's inquiry. What he wished to know\nwas simply the exact stage in the whole course of her development\nwhich the Earth at present occupies. Is she still in her infancy,\nfor example, or in a stage corresponding to middle age, or in a\nstage approaching to superannuation?  The idea of Kant presupposed\na certain average duration as belonging to a planet of our particular\nsystem; and supposing this known, or discoverable, and that a certain\nassignable development belonged to a planet so circumstanced as\nours, then in what particular stage of that development may we, the\ntenants of this respectable little planet _Tellus_, reasonably\nbe conceived to stand?\n\nMan, again, has a certain _aeonian_ life; possibly ranging\nsomewhere about the period of seventy years assigned in the Psalms.\nThat is, in a state as highly improved as human infirmity and the\nerrors of the earth herself, together with the diseases incident to\nour atmosphere, &c., could be supposed to allow, possibly the human\nrace might average seventy years for each individual. This period\nwould in that case represent the '_aeon_' of the _individual_\nTellurian; but the '_aeon_' of the Tellurian RACE would\nprobably amount to many millions of our earthly years; and it would\nremain an unfathomable mystery, deriving no light at all from the\nseptuagenarian '_aeon_' of the individual; though between the\ntwo _aeons_ I have no doubt that some secret link of connection\ndoes and must subsist, however undiscoverable by human sagacity.\n\nThe crow, the deer, the eagle, &c., are all supposed to be long-lived.\nSome people have fancied that in their normal state they tended\nto a period of two[Footnote: I have heard the same normal duration\nascribed to the tortoise, and one case became imperfectly known\nto myself personally.  Somewhere I may have mentioned the case in\nprint.  These, at any rate, are the facts of the case: A lady (by\nbirth a Cowper, of the whig family, and cousin to the poet Cowper;\nand, equally with him, related to Dr. Madan, bishop of Peterborough),\nin the early part of this century, mentioned to me that, in the palace\nat Peterborough, she had for years known as a pet of the household\na venerable tortoise, who bore some inscription on his shell\nindicating that, from 1638 to 1643, he had belonged to Archbishop\nLaud, who (if I am not mistaken) held the bishopric of Peterborough\nbefore he was translated to London, and finally to Canterbury.]\ncenturies. I myself know nothing certain for or against this\nbelief; but, supposing the case to be as it is represented, then\nthis would be the _aeonian_ period of these animals, considered\nas individuals. Among trees, in like manner, the oak, the cedar, the\nyew, are notoriously of very slow growth, and their _aeonian_\nperiod is unusually long as regards the individual.  What may be\nthe _aeon_ of the whole species is utterly unknown. Amongst\nbirds, one species at least has become extinct in our own generation:\nits _aeon_ was accomplished. So of all the fossil species\nin zoology, which Palaeontology has revealed. Nothing, in short,\nthroughout universal nature, can for a moment be conceived to have\nbeen resigned to accident for its normal _aeon_. All periods\nand dates of this order belong to the certainties of nature, but\nalso, at the same time, to the mysteries of Providence. Throughout\nthe Prophets, we are uniformly taught that nothing is more below\nthe grandeur of Heaven than to assign earthly dates in fixing either\nthe revolutions or the duration of great events such as prophecy\nwould condescend to notice. A day has a prophetic meaning, but\nwhat sort of day? A mysterious expression for a time which has no\nresemblance to a natural day--sometimes comprehending long successions\nof centuries, and altering its meaning according to the object\nconcerned. 'A time,' and 'times,' or 'half a time'--'aeon_,'\nor '_aeons_ of _aeons_'--and other variations of this prophetic\nlanguage (so full of dreadful meaning, but also of doubt\nand perplexity), are all significant. The peculiar grandeur of such\nexpressions lies partly in the dimness of the approximation to any\nattempt at settling their limits, and still more in this, that the\nconventional character, and consequent meanness of ordinary human\ndates, are abandoned in the celestial chronologies.  Hours and days,\nor lunations and months, have no true or philosophic relation to\nthe origin, or duration, or periods of return belonging to great\nevents, or revolutionary agencies, or vast national crimes; but the\nnormal period and duration of all acts whatever, the time of their\nemergence, of their agency, or their reagency, fall into harmony\nwith the secret proportions of a heavenly scale, when they belong\nby mere necessity of their own internal constitution to the vital\nthough hidden motions that are at work in their own life and\nmanifestation. Under the old and ordinary view of the apocalyptic\n_aeon_, which supposed it always to mean the same period\nof time--mysterious, indeed, and uncertain, as regards _our_\nknowledge, but fixed and rigorously certain in the secret counsels\nof God--it was presumed that this period, if it lost its character\nof infinity when applied to evil, to criminality, or to punishment,\nmust lose it by a corresponding necessity equally when applied\nto happiness and the golden aspects of hope. But, on the contrary,\nevery object whatsoever, every mode of existence, has its own\nseparate and independent _aeon_. The most thoughtless person\nmust be satisfied, on reflection, even apart from the express commentary\nupon this idea furnished by the Apocalypse, that every life and\nmode of being must have hidden within itself the secret _why_\nof its duration. It is impossible to believe of _any_ duration\nwhatever that it is determined capriciously. Always it rests upon\nsome ground, ancient as light and darkness, though undiscoverable\nby man. This only is discoverable, as a general tendency, that\nthe _aeon_, or generic period of evil, is constantly towards\na fugitive duration. The _aeon_, it is alleged, must always\nexpress the same idea, whatever _that_ may be; if it is less\nthan eternity for the evil cases, then it must be less for the good\nones. Doubtless the idea of an _aeon_ is in one sense always\nuniform, always the same, viz., as a tenth or a twelfth is always\nthe same. Arithmetic could not exist if any caprice or variation\naffected these ideas--a tenth is always hiore than an eleventh,\nalways less than a ninth. But this uniformity of ratio and proportion\ndoes not hinder but that a tenth may now represent a guinea, and\nnext moment represent a thousand guineas. The exact amount of the\nduration expressed by an _aeon_ depends altogether upon the\nparticular subject which yields the _aeon_. It is, as I have\nsaid, a radix; and, like an algebraic square-root or cube-root,\nthough governed by the most rigorous laws of limitation, it must\nvary in obedience to the nature of the particular subject whose\nradix it forms.\n\nReader, I take my leave. I have been too loitering.  I know it, and\nwill make such efforts in future to cultivate the sternest brevity\nas nervous distress will allow.  Meantime, as the upshot of my\nspeculation, accept these three propositions:--\n\nA. That man (which is in effect _every_ man hitherto,)\nwho allows himself to infer the eternity of evil from the counter\neternity of good, builds upon the mistake of assigning a stationary\nand mechanic value to the idea of an _aeon;_ whereas the very\npurpose of Scripture in using this word was to evade such a value.\nThe word is always varying, for the very purpose of keeping it\nfaithful to a spiritual identity. The period or duration of every\nobject _would_ be an essentially variable quantity, were it\nnot mysteriously commensurate to the inner nature of that object as\nlaid open to the eyes of God. And thus it happens, that everything\nin this world, possibly without a solitary exception has its own\nseparate _aeon_: how many entities, so many _aeons_.\n\nB. But if it be an excess of blindness which can overlook the\n_aeonian_ differences amongst even neutral entities, much\ndeeper is that blindness which overlooks the separate tendencies\nof things evil and things good.  Naturally, all evil is fugitive\nand allied to death.\n\nC. I separately, speaking for myself only, profoundly believe that\nthe Scriptures ascribe absolute and metaphysical eternity to one\nsole Being, viz., to God; and derivatively to all others according to\nthe interest which they can plead in God's favor. Having anchorage\nin God, innumerable entities may possibly be admitted to a participation\nin divine _aeon_. But what interest in the favor of God can\nbelong to falsehood, to malignity, to impurity? To invest _them_\nwith _aeonian_ privileges, is in effect, and by its results,\nto distrust and to insult the Deity. Evil would _not_ be evil,\nif it had that power of self-subsistence which is imputed to it in\nsupposing its _aeonian_ life to be co-eternal with that which\ncrowns and glorifies the good.\n\n\n\n\nJUDAS ISCARIOT.\n\n[1852.]\n\n\nEverything connected with our ordinary conceptions of this man, of\nhis real purposes, and of his ultimate fate, apparently is erroneous.\nThat neither any motive of his, nor any ruling impulse, was tainted\nwith the vulgar treachery imputed to him, appears probable from the\nstrength of his remorse. And this view of his case comes recommended\nby so much of internal plausibility, that in Germany it has long\nsince shaped itself into the following well-known hypothesis:--Judas\nIscariot, it is alleged, participated in the common delusion of\nthe apostles as to that earthly kingdom which, under the sanction\nand auspices of Christ, they supposed to be waiting and ripening\nfor the Jewish people.  So far there was nothing in Judas to warrant\nany special wonder or any special blame. If _he_ erred, so did\nthe other apostles. But in one point Judas went further than his\nbrethren, viz., in speculating upon the _reasons_ of Christ\nfor delaying the inauguration of this kingdom.  All things were\napparently ripe for it; all things pointed to it; the expectation\nand languishing desires of many Hebrew saints; the warning from\nsigns; the prophetic alarms and kindling signals raised aloft by\nheralds like the Baptist; the fermentation of revolutionary doctrines\nall over Judea; the passionate impatience of the Roman yoke; the\ncontinual openings of new convulsions and new opportunities at the\ngreat centre of Rome; the insurrectionary temper of Jewish society,\nas indicated by the continual rise of robber leaders, that drew\noff multitudes into the neighboring deserts; and, universally, the\nunsettled mind of the Jewish nation. These explosive materials had\nlong been accumulated; they needed only a kindling spark. Heavenly\ncitations to war had long been felt in the insults and aggressions\nof paganism; there wanted only a leader. And such a leader, if he\nwould but consent to assume that office, stood ready in the founder\nof Christianity. The supreme qualifications for leadership, as\nrevealed in the person of Jesus Christ, were evident to all parties\nin the Jewish community, and not merely to the religious body of\nhis own immediate followers. These qualifications were published\nand expounded to the world in the facility with which everywhere\nhe drew crowds about himself,[Footnote: As connected with these\ncrowds, I have elsewhere noticed, many years ago, the secret reason\nwhich probably governed our Saviour in cultivating the character\nand functions of a _hakim_, or physician. Throughout the whole\nworld of civilization at that era [\u03ae \u03bf\u03af\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03b7], whatever\nmight be otherwise the varieties of the government, there was\namongst the ruling authorities a great jealousy of mobs and popular\ngatherings. To a grand revolutionary teacher, no obstacle so fatal\nas this initial prejudice could have offered itself.  Already, in\nthe first place, a new and mysterious body of truth, having vast\nand illimitable relations to human duties and prospects, presented\na field of indefinite alarm. That this truth should in the second\nplace publish itself, not through books and written discourses,\nbut orally, by word of mouth, and by personal communication between\nvast mobs and the divine teacher--already _that_, as furnishing\na handle of influence to a mob-leader, justified a preliminary\nalarm. But then, thirdly, as furnishing a plea for bringing crowds\ntogether, such a mode of teaching must have crowned the suspicious\npresumptions against itself. One peril there was at any rate to begin\nwith--the peril of a mob: _that_ was certain. And, secondly,\nthere was the doctrine taught: which doctrine was mysterious and\nuncertain; and in that uncertainty lay another peril. So that, equally\nthrough what was fixed and what was doubtful, there arose that\n'fear of change' which by authentic warrant 'perplexes monarchs.']\nin the extraordinary depth of impression which attended his teaching,\nand in the fear as well as hatred which possessed the Jewish rulers\nagainst him.  Indeed, had it not been for the predominance of the\nRoman element in the government of Judea, it is pretty certain that\nChrist would have been crushed in an earlier stage in his career.\n\nBelieving, therefore, as Judas did, that Christ contemplated the\nestablishment of a temporal kingdom--the restoration, in fact, of\nDavid's throne; believing, also, that all the conditions towards\nthe realization of such a scheme met and centred in the person\nof Christ, when viewed in relation to the circumstances of the\ntimes; what was it that, upon any solution intelligible to Judas,\nneutralized so grand a scene of promise?  Simply and obviously,\nto a man with the views of Judas, it was the character of Christ\nhimself, sublimely over-gifted for purposes of speculation, but,\nlike Shakspeare's great creation of Prince Hamlet, not commensurately\nendowed for the business of action and the sudden emergencies of\nlife. Indecision and doubt (such was the interpretation of Judas)\ncrept over the faculties of the Divine Man as often as he was\nsummoned away from his own natural Sabbath of heavenly contemplation\nto the gross necessities of action. It became important, therefore,\naccording to the views adopted by Judas, that his master should be\n_precipitated_ into action by a force from without, and thrown\ninto the centre of some popular movement, such as, once beginning\nto revolve, could not afterwards be suspended or checked.  It is\nby no means improbable that this may have been the theory of Judas.\nNor is it at all necessary to seek for the justification of such\na theory, considered as a matter of prudential policy, in Jewish\nfanaticism. The Jews of thai day were distracted by internal schisms.\nElse, and with any benefit from national unity, the headlong rapture\nof Jewish zeal, when combined in vindication of their insulted\ntemple and temple-worship, would have been equal to the effort of\ndislodging the Roman legionary force for the moment from the military\npossession of Palestine. After which, although the restoration of\nthe Roman supremacy could not ultimately have been evaded, it is\nnot at all certain that a compromise might not have been welcome at\nRome, such as had, in fact, existed under Herod the Great and his\nfather.[Footnote: It was a tradition which circulated at Rome down\nto the days of the Flavian family, that the indulgence conceded to\nJudea by the imperial policy from Augustus downwards, arose out of\nthe following little diplomatic secret:--On the rise of the Parthian\npower, ambassadors had been sent to Antipater, the father of Herod,\noffering the Parthian alliance and support. At the same moment\nthere happened to be at Jerusalem a Roman agent, having a mission\nfrom the Roman Government with exactly the same objects. The question\nwas most solemnly debated, for it was obvious, that ultimately this\nquestion touched the salvation of the kindgom, since to accept an\nalliance with either empire, would be to _insure_ the bitter\nhostility of the other.  With that knowledge fully before his mind,\nAntipater made his definitive election for Rome. The case transpired\nat Rome--the debate, and the issue of the debate--and eventually\nproved worth a throne to the Herodian family; for the honor of Rome\nseemed to be concerned in supporting the man who, in this sort of\njudgment of Paris, had solemnly awarded the prize of superiority\nto the remoter potentate.] The radical power, in fact, would have\nbeen lodged in Rome; but with such external concessions to Jewish\nnationality as might have consulted the real interests of both\nparties. Administered under Jewish names, the land might have\nyielded a larger revenue than, as a refractory nest of insurgents,\nit ever _did_ yield to the Roman exchequer; and, on the\nother hand, a ferocious bigotry, which was really sublime in its\nindomitable obstinacy, might have been humored without prejudice\nto the grandeur of the _imperial_ claims. Even little Palmyra\nin later times was indulged to a greater extent without serious\ninjury in any quarter, had it not been for the feminine arrogance\nthat misinterpreted and abused that indulgence.\n\nThe miscalculation, in fact, of Judas Iscariot--supposing him really\nto have entertained the views ascribed to him--did not hinge at all\nupon political oversights, but upon a total spiritual blindness; in\nwhich blindness, however, he went no farther than at the time did\nprobably most of his brethren. Upon _them_, quite as little\nas upon _him_, had as yet dawned the true grandeur of the\nChristian scheme. In this only he outran his brethren--that, sharing\nin their blindness, he greatly exceeded them in presumption. All\nalike had imputed to their Master views utterly irreconcilable with\nthe grandeur of his new and heavenly religion. It was no religion\nat all which they as yet supposed to be the object of Christ's\nteaching, but a simple preparation for a pitiably vulgar scheme of\nearthly aggrandizement.  But, whilst the other apostles had simply\nfailed to comprehend their master, Judas had presumptuously assumed\nthat he comprehended the purposes of Christ more fully than Christ\nhimself. His object was audacious in a high degree, but (according\nto the theory which I am explaining) for that very reason not\ntreacherous at all. The more that he was liable to the reproach\nof audacity, the less can he be suspected of perfidy. He supposed\nhimself executing the very innermost purposes of Christ, but with\nan energy which it was the characteristic infirmity of Christ to\nwant.  His hope was, that, when at length actually arrested by the\nJewish authorities, Christ would no longer vacillate; he would be\nforced into giving the signal to the populace of Jerusalem, who\nwould then have risen unanimously, for the double purpose of placing\nChrist at the head of an insurrectionary movement, and of throwing\noff the Roman yoke. As regards the worldly prospects of this scheme,\nit is by no means improbable that Iscariot was right. It seems,\nindeed, altogether impossible that he, who (as the treasurer of\nthe apostolic fraternity) had in all likelihood the most of worldly\nwisdom, and was best acquainted with the temper of the times, could\nhave made any gross blunder as to the wishes and secret designs\nof the populace in Jerusalem.[Footnote: Judas, not less than the\nother apostles, had doubtless been originally chosen, upon the\napparent ground of superior simplicity and unworldliness, or else\nof superior zeal in testifying his obedience to the wishes of his\nMaster.  But the other eleven were probably exposed to no special\ntemptation:  Judas, as the purse-bearer, _was_.  His official\nduty must have brought him every day into minute and circumstantial\ncommunication with an important order of men, viz., petty shop-keepers.\nIn all countries alike, these men fulfil a great political function.\nBeyond all others, they are brought into the most extensive\nconnection with the largest _stratum_ by far in the composition\nof society.  They receive, and with dreadful fidelity they give back,\nall jacobinical impulses.  They know thoroughly in what channels,\nunder any call arising for action, these impulses are at any time\nmoving.  They are always kept up _au courant_ of the interior\ncouncils and ultimate objects of the most national, and, in one\nsense, the most powerful body in the whole community. Consciousness,\nwhich such men always have, of deep incorruptible fidelity to their\nmother-land, and to her interests, however ill understood, ennobles\ntheir politics, even when otherwise base. They are corrupters in\na service that never can be utterly corrupt. They have therefore a\npower to win attention from virtuous men; and, being known to speak\na representative language, they would easily, in a land so agitated\nand unreconciled, so wild, stormy, and ignorant as Judea, kindle\nin stirring minds the most worldly contagions as to principle and\npurpose: on the one hand, kept through these men in vital sympathy\nwith the restless politics of the insurrectionist populace--on the\nother, hearing a sublime philosophy that rested for its key-note\nupon the advent of vast revolutions among men--what wonder that\nJudas should connect his daily experience by an imaginary synthesis?]\nThis populace, however, not being backed by any strong section of\nthe aristocracy, having no confidence again in any of the learned\nbodies connected with the great service of their national temple,\nand having no leaders, were apparently dejected, and without unity.\nThe probability, meantime, is, that some popular demonstration would\nhave been made on behalf of Christ, had he himself offered it any\nencouragement.  But we, who know the incompatibility of any such\nencouragement with the primary purpose of Christ's mission upon\nearth, know of necessity that Judas, and the populace on which\nhe relied, must equally and simultaneously have found themselves\nundeceived for ever. In an instant of time one grand decisive word\nand gesture of Christ must have put an end peremptorily to all\nhopes of that kind. In that brief instant, enough was made known\nto Judas for final despair.  Whether he had ever drunk profoundly\nenough from the cup of spiritual religion to understand the\nfull meaning of Christ's refusal; whether he still adhered to his\nworldly interpretation of Christ's mission, and simply translated\nthe refusal into a confession that all was lost, whilst in very\nfact all was on the brink of absolute and triumphant consummation,\nit is impossible for us, without documents or hints, to conjecture.\nEnough is apparent to show that, in reference to any hopes that\ncould be consolatory for _him_, all was indeed lost. The\nkingdom of this world had melted away in a moment like a cloud;\nand it mattered little to him that a spiritual kingdom survived,\nand that intellectually he might suddenly become aware of it,\nif in his heart there were no spiritual organ by which he could\nappropriate the new and stunning revelation. Equally he might be\nswallowed up by despair in the case of retaining his old worldly\ndelusions, and finding the ground of his old anticipations suddenly\ngiving way below his feet, or again in the opposite case of suddenly\ncorrecting his own false constructions of Christ's mission, and\napprehending a far higher purpose; but which purpose, in the very\nmoment of becoming intelligible, rose into a region far beyond his\nown frail fleshly sympathies.  He might read more truly--far more\ntruly; but what of that, if the new truth were nothing to _him_?\nThe despondency of Judas might be of two different qualities, more\nor less selfish; indeed, I would go so far as to say, selfish or\naltogether unselfish. And it is with a view to this question, and\nunder a persuasion of a wrong done to Judas by gross mistranslation\ndisturbing the Greek text, that I entered at all upon this little\nmemorandum. Else what I have hitherto been attempting to explain\n(excepting only the part relating to the _hakim_, which is\nentirely my own suggestion) belongs to German writers. The whole\nconstruction of Iscariot's conduct, as arising, not out of perfidy,\nbut out of his sincere belief that some quickening impulse was\ncalled for by a morbid feature in Christ's temperament--all this I\nbelieve was originally due to the Germans; and it is an important\ncorrection, for it must always be important to recall within the\nfold of Christian forgiveness any one who has long been sequestered\nfrom human charity, and has tenanted a Pariah grave. In the greatest\nand most memorable of earthly tragedies, Judas is a prominent\nfigure. So long as the earth revolves, he cannot be forgotten. If,\ntherefore, there is a doubt affecting his case, he is entitled to\nthe benefit of that doubt; and if he has suffered to any extent--if\nsimply to the extent of losing a palliation, or the shadow of\na palliation--by means of a false translation from the Greek, we\nought not to revise or mitigate his sentence merely, but to dismiss\nhim from the bar. The Germans make it a question--in what spirit\nIscariot lived? _My_ question is--how he died? If he were a\ntraitor at last, in that case he was virtually a traitor always.\nIf he perpetrated treason in the last hours of his connection,\nwith Christ, and even a mercenary treason, then he must have been\ndallying with the purpose of treason during all the hours of his\napostleship. If, in reality, when selling his master for money,\nhe meant to betray him, and regarded the money as the commensurate\nmotive for betraying him, then his case will assume a very different\naspect from that impressed upon it by the German construction of\nthe circumstances.\n\nThe _life_ of Judas, and the _death_ of Judas, taken\napart, or taken jointly, each separately upon independent grounds,\nor both together upon common grounds, are open to doubts and\nperplexities. And possibly the double perplexities, if fully before\nus, might turn out to be self-neutralized. Taking them jointly, we\nmight ask--Were they, this life and this death, to be regarded as\na common movement on behalf of a deep and heart-fretting Hebrew\npatriotism, which was not the less sincere, because it ran headlong\ninto the unamiable form of rancorous rationality and inhuman bigotry?\nWere they a wild degeneration from a principle originally noble?\nOr, on the contrary, this life and this death, were they alike the\nexpression of a base mercenary selfishness, caught and baffled in\nthe meshes of its own chicanery? The life, if it could be appreciated\nin its secret principles, might go far to illustrate the probable\ncharacter of the death. The death, if its circumstances were\nrecoverable, and could be liberated from the self-contradictory\ndetails in the received report, might do something to indicate\nretrospectively the character and tenor of that life. The life of\nJudas, under a German construction of it, as a spasmodic effort\nof vindictive patriotism and of rebellious ambition, noble by\npossibility, though erring and worldly-minded, when measured by a\nstandard so exalted as that of Christianity, would infer (as its\nnatural sequel) a death of fierce despair. Read under the ordinary\nconstruction as a life exposed to temptations that were petty,\nand frauds that were always mercenary, it could not reasonably be\nsupposed to furnish any occasion for passions upon so great a scale\nas those which seem to have been concerned in the tragical end of\nJudas, whether the passions were those of remorse and penitential\nanguish, or of personal disappointment. Leaving, however, to the\nGermans, the task of conjecturally restering its faded lineaments\nto this mysterious record of a crime that never came before any\nhuman tribunal, my own purpose is narrower. I seek to recall and\nto recombine the elements, not of the Iscariot's life, nor of his\nparticular offence, but simply of his death.\n\nThe reader is probably aware, that there has always been an obscurity,\nor even a perplexity, connected with the death of Iscariot. Two\nonly out of the entire five documents, which record the rise and\nearly history of Christianity, have circumstantially noticed this\nevent.  Mark, Luke, and John, leave it undescribed. St. Matthew\nand the Acts of the Apostles have bequeathed to us a picturesque\naccount of it, which, to my own belief, has been thoroughly\nmisunderstood; and, once _being_ misunderstood, naturally\nenough has been interpreted as something fearfully preternatural.\nThe crime, though great, of Iscariot has probably been much\nexaggerated. It was the crime of signal and earthly presumption,\nseeking not to thwart the purposes of Christ, or to betray them,\nbut to promote them by means utterly at war with their central\nspirit. As far as can be judged, it was an attempt to forward the\ncounsels of God by weapons borrowed from the armory of darkness.\nThe crime being once misapprehended as a crime, without a name or\na precedent, it was inevitable that the punishment, so far as it\nwas expounded by the death of the criminal, should, in obedience\nto this first erroneous preconception, be translated into something\npreternatural. To a mode of guilt which seemed to have no parallel,\nit was reasonable enough that there should be apportioned a death\nwhich allowed of no medical explanation.[Footnote: In neutral\npoints, having no relation to morals or religious philosophy, it\nis not concealed by the scriptural records themselves, that even\ninspired persons made grave mistakes. All the apostles, it is\nprobable, or with the single exception of St. John, shared in the\nmistake about the second coming of Christ, as an event immediately\nto be looked for. With respect to diseases, again, it is evident that\nthe apostles, in common with all Jews, were habitually disposed to\nread in them distinct manifestations of heavenly wrath. In blindness,\nfor instance, or, again, in death from the fall of a tower, they\nread, as a matter of course, a plain expression of the divine\ndispleasure pointed at an individual. That they should even pause\nso far as to make a doubt whether the individual or his parents\nwere the object of this displeasure, arose only from the absolute\ncoercion to so much reserve as this which was continually obtruding\nitself in the cases where innocent infants were the sufferers. This,\nin fact, was a prejudice inalienable from their Jewish training;\nand as it would unavoidably lead oftentimes to judgments not only\nfalse but also uncharitable, it received, on more occasions than\none, a stern rebuke from Christ himself. In the same spirit, it is\nprobable that the symptoms attending death were sometimes erroneously\nreported as preternatural, when, in fact, such as every hospital\ncould match.  The death of the first Herod was regarded by the\nearly Christians universally as a judicial expression of God's wrath\nto the author of the massacre at Bethlehem, though in reality the\nsymptoms were such as often occur in obstinate derangements of\nthe nervous system. Indeed, as to many features, the malady of the\nFrench king, Charles IX., whose nervous system had been shattered\nby the horrors of the St. Bartholomew massacre, very nearly resembled\nit; with such differences as might be looked for between an old,\nruined constitution, such as Herod's, and one so youthful as that\nof Charles. In the Acts of the Apostles, again, the grandson of Herod\n(Herod Agrippa) is evidently supposed to have died by a judicial\nand preternatural death, whereas apparently one part of his malady\nwas the _morbus pedicularis_--cases of which I have myself\ncircumstantially known in persons of all ranks; one, for instance,\nbeing that of a countess enormously rich, and the latest a female\nservant.]\n\nThis demur, moreover, of obscurity was not the only one raised\nagainst the death of Judas: there was a separate objection--that\nit was inconsistent with itself. He was represented, in the ordinary\nmodern versions, as dying by a double death--viz., 1st, by a\nsuicidal death: '_he went and hanged himself_'--this is the\nbrief account of his death given by St. Matthew; but, 2d, by a death\n_not_ suicidal: in the Acts of the Apostles, we have a very\ndifferent account of his death, not suggesting suicide at all, and\notherwise describing it as mysteriously complex; that is, presenting\nus with various circumstances of the case, none of which, in the\ncommon vernacular versions (English and Continental), is at all\nintelligible. The elements in the case are three: that he 'fell\ndown headlong;' that he 'burst asunder in the middle;' and that 'his\nbowels gushed out'--the first of these elements being unintelligible\nin the English expression of it, and the two others being purely\nand blankly impossible.  These objections to the particular mode\nof that catastrophe which closed the career of Judas, had been felt\npretty generally in the Christian church, and probably from the\nearliest times; and the more so on account of that deep obscurity\nwhich rested upon the nature of his offence. That a man, who had\nbeen solemnly elected into the small band of the apostles, should\nso far wander from his duty as to incur forfeiture of his great\noffice--this was in itself sufficiently dreadful, and a shocking\nrevival to the human imagination of that eldest amongst all\ntraditions--a tradition descending to us from what date we know not,\nnor through what channel of original communication--the possibility\nthat even into the heaven of heavens, and amongst the angelic hosts,\nrebellion against God, long before man and human frailty existed,\nshould have crept by some way metaphysically inconceivable. What\nsearch could be sufficient, where even the eye of Christ had failed\nto detect any germ of evil? Still, though the crime of Judas had\ndoubtless been profound,[Footnote: In measuring which, however,\nthe reader must not allow himself to be too much biassed by the\n_English_ phrase, 'son of _perdition._' This, and the phrase which\nwe translate 'damnation,' have been alike colored unavoidably by\nthe particular intensity of the feeling associated with our\nEnglish use of the words. Now, one great difficulty in translating\nis to find words that even as to mere logical elements correspond\nto the original text. Even _that_ is often a trying problem. But\nto find also such words as shall graduate and adjust their depth\nof feeling to the scale of another language, and that language\na dead language, is many times beyind all reach of human skill.]\nand evidently to me it had been the intention of the early\nchurch to throw a deep pall of mystery over its extent--charity,\nthat unique charity which belongs to Christianity, as being the sole\ncharity ever preached to men, which 'hopeth all things,' inclined\nthrough every age the hearts of musing readers to suspend their\nverdict where the Scriptures had themselves practised some reserve,\nand (were it only by the extreme perplexity of its final and revised\nexpressions) had left an opening, if not almost an invitation, to\ndoubt. The doubt was left by the primitive church where Scripture\nhad left it. There was not any absolute necessity that this should\never be cleared up to man. But it was felt from the very first that\nsome call was made upon the church to explain and to harmonize the\napparently contradictory expressions used in what may be viewed as\nthe _official_ report of the one memorable domestic tragedy in\nthe infant stage of the Christian history. _Official_ I call\nit, as being in a manner countersigned by the whole confederate\nchurch, when proceeding to their first common act in filling up\nthe vacancy consequent upon the transgression of Judas, whereas\nthe account of St.  Matthew pleaded no authority but his own. And\n_domestic_ I call the tragedy, in prosecution of that beautiful\nimage under which a father of our English church has called the twelve\napostles, when celebrating the paschal feast, 'the _family_ of\nChrist.'[Footnote: for the reader must not forget that the original\nmeaning of the Latin word _familia_ was the sum total of the\n_famuli_. Hence, whenever it is said in an ancient classic\nthat such or such a man had a large family, or that he was kind to\nhis family, or was loved by his family, always we are to understand\nnot at all his wife and children, but the train and retinue of his\ndomestic slaves. Now, the relation of the Apostles to their Master,\nand the awfulness of their dependency upon him, which represented\na golden chain suspending the whole race of man to the heavens\nabove, justified, in the first place, that form of expression which\nshould indicate the humility and loyalty that is owned by servants\nto a lord; whilst, on the other hand, the tenderness involved in\nthe relations expressed by the English word _family_, redressed\nwhat would else have been too austere in the idea, and recomposed\nthe equilibrium between the two forces of reverential awe and of\nchildlike love which are equally indispensable to the orbicular\nperfection of Christian duty.]\n\nThis early essay of the church to harmonize the difficult expressions\nemployed in the Acts of the Apostles--an essay which, therefore,\nrecognises at once the fact that these expressions really _were_\nlikely to perplex the simple-hearted, and not merely such readers\nas systematically raised cavils--was brought forward in the earliest\nera of the church, and under the sanction of the very highest\nauthority, viz., by one who sat at the feet of the beloved apostle;\nby one, therefore, who, if he had not seen Christ, had seen\nfamiliarly him in whom Christ most confided.  But I will report the\ncase in the words of that _golden-mouthed_ rhetorician, that\n_Chrysostom_ of the English Church, from whose lips all truth\ncame mended, and who, in spite of Shakespeare himself, found it\npossible\n\n\n  'To gild refined gold, to paint the lily.\n  And add another perfume to the violet.'\n\n\nThe following is the account given by Jeremy Taylor of the whole\nhistory, in so far as it affects the Scripture report of what Judas\ndid, and what finally he suffered:--'Two days before the passover,\nthe Scribes and Pharisees called a council to contrive crafty ways\n[Footnote: Otherwise, it must naturally occur to every reader--What\npowers could Judas furnish towards the arrest of Jesus beyond what\nthe authorities in Jerusalem already possessed?  But the bishop\nsuggests that the dilemma was this:--By day it was unsafe to seize\nhim, such was the veneration of the populace for his person. If\ndone at all, it must be done during the darkness. But, precisely\nduring those hours, Christ withdrew into solitudes known only to\nhis disciples. So that to corrupt one of these was the preliminary\nstep to the discovery of that secret.] of destroying Jesus, they\nnot daring to do it by open violence. Of which meeting, when Judas\nIscariot had notice (for those assemblies were public and notorious)\nhe ran from Bethany, and offered himself to betray his Master to\nthem, if they would give him a considerable reward. They agreed for\nthirty pieces of silver.' In a case so memorable as this, nothing\nis or can be trivial; and even that curiosity is not unhallowed which\nhas descended to inquire what sum, at that era of Jewish history,\nthis expression might indicate. The bishop replies thus:--'Of what\nvalue each piece was, is uncertain; but their own nation hath given\na rule, that, when a piece of silver is named in the Pentateuch,\nit signifies a _sicle_; if it be named in the Prophets,\nit signifies a _pound_; if in the other writings of the Old\nTestament, it signifies a _talent_.' For this, besides other\nless familiar authority, there is cited the well-known Arius Montanus,\nin the Syro-Chaldaic dictionary. It is, however, self-evident that\nany service open to Judas would have been preposterously overpaid\nby thirty talents, a sum which exceeded five thousand pounds\nsterling. And since this particular sum had originally rested on the\nauthority of a prophet, cited by one of the evangelists,[Footnote:\nViz., St. Matthew. Upon which the bishop notices the error which\nhad crept into the prevailing text of Jeremias instead of Zecharias.\nBut in the fourth century, some copies had already corrected this\nreading; which, besides, had a traditional excuse in the proverbial\nsaying that the spirit of Jeremiah had settled and found a\nresting-place in Zecharias.] 'it is probable,' proceeds the bishop,\n'that the price at which Judas sold his lord was thirty pounds\nweight of silver [that is, about ninety guineas sterling in English\nmoney]--a goodly price for the Saviour of the world to be prized\nat by his undiscerning and unworthy countrymen.' Where, however,\nthe learned writer makes a slight oversight in logic, since it was\nnot precisely Christ that was so valued--this prisoner as against\nthe certain loss of this prisoner--but simply this particular mode\nof contending with the difficulty attached to his apprehension, so\nthat, in the worst case, this opportunity lost might be replaced by\nother opportunities; and the price, therefore, was not calculated\nas it would have been under one solitary chance.\n\nThe bishop then proceeds with the rehearsal of all the circumstances\nconnected with the pretended trial of Christ; and coming in the\nprocess of his narrative to the conduct of Judas on learning the\ndreadful turn which things were taking (conduct which surely argues\nthat he had anticipated a most opposite catastrophe), he winds\nup the case of the Iscariot in the following passage--'When Judas\nheard that they had passed the final and decretory sentence of\ndeath upon his Lord, he, who thought not it would have gone so far,\nrepented him to have been an instrument of so damnable a machination,\nand came and brought the silver which they gave him for hire,\nthrew it in amongst them, and said, 'I have sinned in betraying the\ninnocent blood.' But they, incurious of those hell-torments Judas\nfelt within him, because their own fires burned not yet, dismissed\nhim.' I pause for a moment to observe that, in the expression,\n'repented him to have been an instrument,' the context shows the\nbishop intending to represent Judas as recoiling from the issue of\nhis own acts, and from so damnable a machination, not because his\nbetter feelings were evoked, as the prospect of ruin to his Master\ndrew near, and that he shrank from that same thing when taking a\ndefinite shape of fulfilment, which he had faced cheerfully when\nat a distance--not at all: the bishop's meaning is--that Judas\nrecoiled from his own acts at the very instant when he began to\nunderstand their real consequences now solemnly opening upon his\nhorror-stricken understanding. He had hoped, probably, much from\nthe Roman interference; and the history itself shows that in this\nhe had not been at all too sanguine.  Justice has never yet been\ndone to the conduct of Pilate. That man has little comprehended\nthe style and manner of the New Testament who does not perceive the\ndemoniac earnestness of Pilate to effect the liberation of Christ,\nor who fails to read the anxiety of the several evangelists to put\non record his profound sympathy with the prisoner. The falsest word\nthat ever yet was uttered upon any part of the New Testament, is\nthat sneer of Lord Bacon's at '_jesting_ Pilate.' Pilate was\nin deadly earnest from first to last, and retired from his frantic\neffort on behalf of Christ, only when his own safety began to\nbe seriously compromised.  Do the thoughtless accusers of Pilate\nfancy that he was a Christian? If not, why, or on what principle,\nwas he to ruin himself at Rome, in order to favor one he could not\nsave at Jerusalem? How reasonably Judas had relied upon the Roman\ninterference, is evident from what actually took place.  Judas\nrelied, secondly, upon the populace, and that this reliance also\nwas well warranted, appears from repeated instances of the fear\nwith which the Jewish rulers contemplated Christ. Why did they fear\nhim at all? Simply, as he was backed by the people: had it not been\nfor _their_ support, Christ was no more an object of terror to\nthem than his herald, the Baptist.  But what I here insist on is\n(which else from some expressions the reader might fail to understand),\nthat Jeremy Taylor nowhere makes the mistake of supposing Judas\nto have originally designed the ruin of his Master, and nowhere\nunderstands by his 'repentance' that he felt remorse on coming near\nto consequences which from a distance he had welcomed. He admits\nclearly that Judas was a traitor only in the sense of seeking\nhis Master's aggrandizement by methods which placed him in revolt\nagainst that Master, methods which not only involved express and\nformal disobedience to that Master, but which ran into headlong\nhostility against the spirit of all that he came on earth to effect.\nIt was the revolt, not of perfidious malignity, but of arrogant\nand carnal blindness. In respect to the gloomy termination of the\nIscariot's career, and to the perplexing account of it given in\nthe Acts of the Apostles, the bishop closes his account thus:--'And\nJudas went and hanged himself; and the judgment was made more\nnotorious and eminent by an unusual accident at such deaths; for\nhe so swelled, that he burst, and his bowels gushed out. But the\nGreek scholiast and some others report out of Papias, St. John's\nscholar, that Judas fell from the fig-tree, on which he hanged,\nbefore he was quite dead, and survived his attempt somewhile; being\nso sad a spectacle of deformity and pain, and a prodigious tumor,\nthat his plague was deplorable and highly miserable; till at last\nhe burst in the very substance of his trunk, as being extended\nbeyond the possibilities [Footnote: Quaere, whether the true reading\nis not more probably 'p_a_ssibilities,' i.e., liabilities to\nsuffering.] and capacities of nature.'\n\nIn this corrected version of Papias, we certainly gain an\nintelligible account of what otherwise is far from intelligible,\nviz., the _falling headlong_. But all the rest is a dismal heap\nof irrationalities; and the single ray of light which is obtained,\nviz., the suggestion of the fig-tree as an elevation, which explains\nthe possibility of a headlong fall, is of itself an argument that\nsome great disturbance must have happened to the text at this point,\nelse how could so material a circumstance have silently dropped\nout of the narrative? There are passages in every separate book\nof the canon, into which accident, or the somnolence of copyists,\nhas introduced errors seriously disturbing the sense and the\ncoherence. Many of these have been rectified in the happiest manner\nby ingenious suggestions; and a considerable proportion of these\nsuggestions has been since verified and approved by the discovery\nof new manuscripts, or the more accurate collation of old ones.\nIn the present case, a much slighter change than might be supposed\nwill suffice to elicit a new and perfect sense from the general\noutline of that text which still survives.  First, as to the phrase\n'_fell headlong_,' I do not understand it of any fall from\na fig-tree, or from any tree whatever. This fig-tree I regard as\na purely fanciful resource; and evidently an innovation to this\nextent ranks amongst those conjectural audacities which shock the\ndiscreet reader, as most unsatisfactory and licentious, because purely\ngratuitous, when they rest upon no traces that can be indicated as\nstill lurking in the present text. _Fell headlong_ may stand\nas at present: it needs no change, for it discloses a very good\nand sufficient sense, if we understand it figuratively as meaning\nthat he came to utter and unmitigated ruin, that his wreck was total,\nfor that, instead of dedicating himself to a life of penitential\nsorrow, such as would assuredly have conciliated the divine forgiveness,\nthe unhappy criminal had rushed out of life by suicide. So far, at\nleast, all is sound and coherent, and under no further obligations\nto change small or great, beyond the reading _that_, in\na metaphorical sense, which, if read (as hitherto) in a literal\nsense, would require the very serious interpolation of an imaginary\nfig-tree.\n\nWhat remains is equally simple: the change required involves as\nlittle violence, and the result from this change will appear equally\nnatural. But a brief preliminary explanation is requisite, in order\nto place It advantageously before the reader. The ancients use\nthe term _bowels_ with a latitude unknown generally to modern\nliterature, but especially to English literature.  In the midst\nof the far profounder passion which distinguishes the English from\nall literatures on the modern European continent, it is singular\nthat a fastidious decorum never sleeps for a moment. It might be\nimagined that this fastidiousness would be in the inverse ratio of\nthe passion: but it is not so. In particular the French, certainly\nthe literature which ranges at the lowest elevation upon the scale\nof passion, nevertheless is often homely, and even gross, in its\nrecurrences to frank elementary nature. For a lady to describe\nherself as laughing _a gorge deployee_, a grossness which with\nus, equally on the stage or in real life, would be regarded with\nhorror, amongst the French attracts no particular attention. Again,\namidst the supposed refinements of French tragedy, and not observe\nthe coarser tragedy of Corneille, but amidst the more feminine and\npolished tragedy of Racine, there is no recoil at all from saying\nof such or such a sentiment, '_Il me perce les entrailles'_--it\npenetrates my bowels. The Greeks and Romans still more extensively\nuse the several varieties of expression for _the intestines_,\nas a symbolic phraseology for the domestic and social affections.\nWe English even, fastidious as we are, employ the term bowels as a\nnatural symbolization for the affections of pity, mercy, or parental\nand brotherly affection. At least we do so in recurring to the\nsimplicities of the scriptural style. But, amongst the Romans, the\nword _viscera_ is so naturally representative of the household\naffections, that at length it becomes necessary to recall an English\nreader to the true meaning of this word.  Through some physiological\nprejudice, it is true that the bowels have always been regarded\nas the seat of the more tender and sorrowing sympathies. But\nthe _viscera_ comprehended _all_ the intestines, or (as\nthe French term them) _les entrailles_. The heart even is a\n_viscus_; perhaps in a very large acceptation the brain might\nbe regarded as a co-viscus with the heart. There is very slight\nground for holding the brain to be the organ of thinking, or the\nheart of moral sensibilities, more than the stomach, or the bowels,\nor the intestines generally. But waive all this: the Romans\ndesignated the seat of the larger and nobler (_i.e._, the moral)\nsensibilities indifferently by these three terms: the _pectus_,\n_the pr\u0153cordia_, and the _viscera_; as to the _cor_, it\nseems to me that it denoted the heart in its grosser and more\nanimal capacities: 'Molle meum levibus _cor_ est violabile relis;'\nit was the seat of sexual passion; but nobler and more reflective\nsensibilities inhabited the _pectus_ or _pr\u0153cordia_; and\nnaturally out of these physiologic preconceptions arose corresponding\nexpressions for wounded or ruined sensibilities. We English,\nfor instance, insist on the disease of _broken heart_, which\nSterne, in a well-known passage, postulates as a malady not at all\nless definite than phthisis, or podagra, though (as he says) not\nformally recognised in the bills of mortality.  But it is evident\nthat a theory which should represent the _viscera_ as occupied\nby those functions of the moral sensibilities which _we_\nplace in the central _viscus_ of the heart, must, in following\nout that hypothesis, figure the case of these sensibilities when\nutterly ruined under corresponding images. Our 'broken heart' will\ntherefore to them become ruptured _viscera_, or _pr\u0153cordia_\nthat have burst. To burst in the middle, is simply to be shattered\nand ruined in the _central_ organ of our sensibilities, which\nis the heart; and in saying that the _viscera_ of Iscariot, or\nhis middle, had burst and gushed out, the original reporter meant\nsimply that his heart had broke. That was precisely his case.\nOut of pure anguish that the scheme which he meant for the sudden\nglorification of his Master, had recoiled (according to all worldly\ninterpretation) in his utter ruin; that the sudden revolution, through\na democratic movement, which was to raise himself and his brother\napostles into Hebrew princes, had scattered them like sheep without\na shepherd; and that superadded to this common burden of ruin he\npersonally had to bear a separate load of conscious disobedience\nto God and insupportable responsibility; naturally enough out of\nall this he fell into fierce despair; his heart broke; and under\nthat storm of affliction he hanged himself. Here, again, all clears\nitself up by the simple substitution of a figurative interpretation\nfor one grossly physical. All contradiction disappears; not three\ndeaths assault him, viz., suicide, and also a rupture of the\nintestines, and also an unintelligible effusion of the viscera;\nbut simply suicide, and suicide as the result of that despondency\nwhich was figured under the natural idea of a broken heart. The\nincoherences are gone; the contradictions have vanished; and the\ngross physical absurdities, which under mistranslation had perplexed\nthe reverential student, no longer disfigure the Scriptures.\n\nLooking back to the foot-note on the oriental idea of the _hakim_,\nas a mask politically assumed by Christ and the evangelists, under\nthe conviction of its indispensableness to the free propagation of\nChristian philosophy, I am induced, for the sake of detaining the\nreader's eye a little longer upon a matter so important in the\nhistory of Christianity, if only it may be regarded as true, to\nsubjoin an extract from a little paper written by myself heretofore,\nbut not published. I may add these two remarks, viz., first, that\nthe attribution to St. Luke of this medical character, probably had\nits origin in the simple fact, that an assumption made by _all_\nthe evangelists, and perhaps by all the apostles, had happened\nto attract more attention in _him_ from merely local causes.\nOne or two of the other apostles having pursued their labors of\nPropagandism under the _avowed_ character of _hakims_, many others\nin the same region would escape special notice in that character,\nsimply because, as men notoriously ready to plead it, they had not\nbeen challenged to do so by the authorities; whilst others, in\nregions where the government had not become familiar with\nthe readiness to plead such a privilege as part of the apostolic\npolicy, would be driven into the necessity of actually advancing\nthe plea, and would thus (like St. Luke) obtain a traditionary claim\nto the medical title which in a latent sense had belonged to all,\nthough all had not been reduced to the necessity of pleading it.\nSecondly, I would venture to suggest, that the _Therapeutae_,\nor healers, technically so called, who came forward in Egypt during\nthe generation immediately succeeding to that of Christ, were neither\nmore nor less than disguised apostles to Christianity, preaching\nthe same doctrines essentially as Christ, and under the very same\nprotecting character of _hakims_, but putting forward this\ncharacter perhaps more prominently, or even retreating into it\naltogether, according to the increasing danger which everywhere\nawaited them from the hostile bigotry of expatriated Jews, as they\ngradually came to understand the true and anti-national views of\nthose who called themselves Christians, or Nazarenes, or Galileans.\n\nIn short, abstracting altogether from the _hatred_ to Christ,\nfounded on eternal principles of the enmity between the worldly\nand the spiritual, and looking only to the political uneasiness\namongst magistrates which accompanied the early footsteps of\nChristianity, one may illustrate it by the parallel feelings which\nin our own generation, amongst the Portuguese, for instance, have\ndogged the movements of free-masonry. We in England view this panic\nas irrational: and amongst ourselves it would be so; for British\nfree-masonry conceals nothing worse than it professes. But, on the\nContinent, it became a mask for shrouding any or every system of\nanti-social doctrine, or, again, for playing into the hands of treason\nand conspiracy. There was always in the first place a reasonable\nfear of secret and perilous doctrines--Communism, for instance,\nunder some modification, or rancorous Jacobinism. And secondly,\nsuppose that for the present, or in the existing stage of the secret\nsociety, there really were no esoteric and mischievous doctrine\npropagated, there was at any rate the custom established of meeting\ntogether in secret, of corresponding by an alphabet of conventional\nsignals, and of acting by an impenetrable organization, always\napplicable to evil purposes, even where it might not originally\nhave been so applied.  The machinery which binds together any secret\nsociety, as being always available for evil ends, must inevitably\njustify some uneasiness in all political authorities. And, under\nthose circumstances, the public jealousy must have operated against\nthe free movement of early Christianity: nothing could have disarmed\nit, except some counter-principle so managed, as to insure that\nfreedom of public meetings which opened the _sine qua non_ channel\nfor the free propagation of religious truth.  Such a counter-force\nwas brought into play by Christ on that day when first he offered\nhimself to Judea as a _hakim_, or popular physician. Under\nthe shelter of that benign character, at one blow he overthrew an\nobstacle that would else infallibly have frozen the very element\nin which only any system of novel teaching could attempt to move.\nMost diseases were by the Jews invested with more or less of a\nsupernatural character; and in no department of knowledge was the\nimmediate illumination from above more signally presumed than in\nthe treatment of diseases. A physician who was thus divinely guided\nin the practice of his art was a _debtor_ to God and to his\nfellow-men for the adequate application of so heavenly a gift. And,\nif _he_ could not honorably withdraw from the mission with\nwhich God had charged him, far less could politicians and magistrates\nunder any allegation of public inconveniences presume to obstruct\nor to make of none effect the sublime mysteries of art and sagacity\nwith which the providence of God had endowed an individual for the\nrelief of suffering humanity; the _hakim_ was a debtor to the\nwhole body of his afflicted countrymen: but for that very reason he\nwas also a creditor; a creditor entitled to draw upon the amplest\nfunds of indulgence; and privileged to congregate his countrymen\nwherever he moved. Here opened suddenly a broad avenue to social\nintercourse, without which all communication for purposes of religious\nteaching would have been sealed against Christ. As a _hakim_,\nChrist obtained that unlimited freedom of intercourse with the populace,\nwhich, as a religious proselytizer, he never could have obtained.\nHere, therefore, and perhaps by the very earliest exemplification\nof the serpent's wisdom and foresight engrafting itself upon the\nholy purposes of dovelike benignity, Christ kept open for himself\n(and for his disciples in times to come) the freedom of public\ncommunication, and the license of public meetings.  Once announcing\nhimself, and attesting his own mission as a _hakim_, he\ncould not be rejected or thwarted as a public oracle of truth and\npractical counsel to human weakness. This explains, what else would\nhave been very obscure, the undue emphasis which Christ allowed\nmen to place upon his _sanatory_ miracles. His very name in\nGreek, viz., \u0399\u03b7\u03c3\u03b4\u03c2, presented him to men under the idea of\nthe _healer_; but then, to all who comprehended his secret\nand ultimate functions, as a healer of unutterable and spiritual\nwounds. That usurpation, by which a very trivial function of\nChrist's public ministrations was allowed to disturb and sometimes\nto eclipse far grander pretensions, carried with it so far an\nerroneous impression. But then, on the other hand, seventy-fold\nit redeemed that error, by securing (which nothing else could have\nsecured) the benefit of a perpetual passport to the _religious_\nmissionary: since, once admitted as a medical counsellor, the\nmissionary, the _hakim_, obtained an _unlimited_ right of\nintercourse.  If medical advice, why not religious advice? And\nsubsequently, by the continuance of the same _medical_ gifts\nto the apostles and their successors, all exercised the same powers,\nand benefited by the same privileges as _hakims_.\n\n\n\n\nON HUME'S ARGUMENT AGAINST MIRACLES.\n\n[1839.]\n\n\n\nHume's argument against miracles is simply this:--Every possible\nevent, however various in its degree of credibility, must, of\nnecessity, be more credible when it rests upon a sufficient cause\nlying within the field of what is called _nature_, than when\nit does not: more credible when it obeys some mechanical cause,\nthan when it transcends such a cause, and is miraculous.\n\nTherefore, assume the resistance to credibility, in any preternatural\noccurrence, as equal to x, and the very ideal or possible value\nof human testimony as no more than x, in that case, under the most\nfavorable circumstances conceivable, the argument for and against\na miracle will be equal; or, expressing the human testimony by x,\naffected with the affirmative sign [+x]; and expressing the resistance\nto credibility on the other side of the equation, by x, affected\nwith the negative sign [-x], the two values will, in algebraical\nlanguage, destroy each other, and the result will be = 0.\n\nBut, inasmuch as this expresses the value of human testimony in its\nhighest or ideal form, a form which is never realized in experience,\nthe true result will be different,--there will always be a negative\nresult= [-y]; much or little according to the circumstances, but\nalways enough to turn the balance _against_ believing a miracle.\n\n'Or in other words,' said Hume, popularizing his argument, 'it will\nalways be more credible that the reporter of a miracle should tell\na falsehood, or should himself have been the dupe of appearances,\nthan that a miracle should have actually occurred--that is, an\ninfraction of those natural laws (any or all) which compose what we\ncall experience. For, assume the utmost disinterestedness, veracity,\nand sound judgment in the witness, with the utmost advantage in\nthe circumstances for giving full play to those qualities; even\nin such a case the value of affirmative testimony could, at the\nvery utmost, be equal to the negative value on the other side the\nequation: and the result would be, to keep my faith suspended _in\nequilibrio_. But in any real case, ever likely to come before\nus, the result will be worse; for the affirmative testimony will\nbe sure to fall in many ways below its ideal maximum; leaving,\ntherefore, for the final result a considerable excess to the negative\nside of the equation.\n\n\n\nSECTION II.\n\nOF THE ARGUMENT AS AFFECTED BY THE COVERT LIMITATIONS UNDER WHICH\nIT IS PRESENTED.\n\n\nSuch is the Argument: and, as the first step towards investigating\nits sanity and its degree--its kind of force, and its quantity of\nforce, we must direct our attention to the following fact, viz.,\nthat amongst three separate conditions under which a miracle (or\nany event whatever) might become known to us, Hume's argument is\napplied only to one. Assuming a miracle to happen (for the possibility\nof a miracle is of course left open throughout the discussion,\nsince any argument against _that_ would at once foreclose\nevery question about its communicability),--then it might happen\nunder three several sets of circumstances, in relation to our\nconsciousness. 1st, It might happen in the presence of a single\nwitness--that witness not being ourselves. This case let us call Alpha.\n2dly, It might happen in the presence of many witnesses,--witnesses\nto a vast amount, but still (as before) ourselves not being amongst\nthat multitude. This case let us call _Beta._ And 3dly, It\nmight happen in our own presence, and fall within the direct light\nof our own consciousness. This case let us call _Gamma._\n\nNow these distinctions are important to the whole extent of the\nquestion. For the 2d case, which is the actual case of many miracles\nrecorded in the New Testament, at once cuts away a large body of\nsources in which either error or deceit could lurk. Hume's argument\nsupposes the reporter of the miracle to be a dupe, or the maker of\ndupes--himself deluded, or wishing to delude others. But, in the\ncase of the thousands fed from a few loaves and small fishes, the\nchances of error, wilful or not wilful, are diminished in proportion\nto the number of observers; [Footnote: 'In proportion to the number\nof observers.'--Perhaps, however, on the part of Hume, some critical\napologist will say--'Doubtless he was aware of that; but still the\nreporters of the miracle were few. No matter how many were present,\nthe witnesses for us are but the Evangelists.' Yes, certainly,\nthe Evangelists; and let us add, all those contemporaries to whom\nthe Evangelists silently appealed. These make up the 'multitude'\ncontemplated in the second case.]  and Hume's inference as to the\ndeclension of the affirmative _x_, in relation to the negative\n_x_, no longer applies, or, if at all, with vastly diminished\nforce. With respect to the 3d case, it cuts away the whole\nargument at once in its very radix. For Hume's argument applies to\nthe _communication_ of a miracle, and therefore to a case of\ntestimony. But, wherever the miracle falls within direct personal\ncognizance, there it follows that no question can arise about the\nvalue of human testimony.  The affirmative _x_, expressing\nthe value of testimony, disappears altogether; and that side of\nthe equation is possessed by a new quantity (viz., ourselves--our\nown consciousness) not at all concerned in Hume's argument.\n\nHence it results, that of three possible conditions under which a\nmiracle may be supposed to offer itself to our knowledge, two are\nexcluded from the view of Hume's argument.\n\n\n\nSECTION III.\n\nWHETHER THE SECOND OF THESE CONDITIONS IS NOT EXPRESSLY NOTICED BY\nHUME.\n\n\nIt may seem so. But in fact it is not. And (what is more to the\npurpose) we are not at liberty to consider it any accident that\nit is not. Hume had his reasons. Let us take all in proper order:\n1st, that it seems so; 2dly, that in fact it is not so; and 3dly,\nthat is no accident, but intentional.\n\n1st. Hume seems to contemplate such a case, the case of a miracle\nwitnessed and attested by a multitude of persons, in the following\nimaginary miracle which he proposes as a basis for reasoning. Queen\nElizabeth, as every body will remember who has happened to read\nLord Monmouth's Memoirs, died on the night between the last day\nof 1602 and the first day of 1603: this could not be forgotten by\nthe reader, because, in fact, Lord M., who was one of Her Majesty's\nnearest relatives (being a younger son of her first cousin Lord\nHunsdon), obtained his title and subsequent preferment as a reward\nfor the furious ride he performed to Edinburgh (at that time at\nleast 440 miles distant from London), without taking off his boots,\nin order to lay the earliest tidings of the great event at the feet\nof her successor. In reality, never did any death cause so much\nposting day and night over the high roads of Europe. And the same\ncauses which made it so interesting has caused it to be the best\ndated event in modern history; that one which could least be shaken\nby any discordant evidence yet discoverable. Now, says Hume, imagine\nthe case, that, in spite of all this chronological precision--this\nprecision, and this notoriety of precision--Her Majesty's\ncourt physicians should have chosen to propagate a story of her\nresurrection.  Imagine that these learned gentlemen should have\nissued a _bulletin_, declaring that Queen Elizabeth had been\nmet in Greenwich Park, or at Nonsuch, on May-day of 1603, or in\nWestminster, two years after, by the Lord Chamberlain when detecting\nGuy Faux--let them even swear it before twenty justices of the\npeace; I for one, says Hume, am free to confess that I would not\nbelieve them. No, nor, to say the truth, would we; nor would we\nadvise our readers to believe them.\n\n2dly. Here, therefore, it would seem as if Hume were boldly pressing\nhis principles to the very uttermost--that is, were challenging a\nmiracle as untenable, though attested by a multitude. But, in fact,\nhe is not. He only seems to do so; for, if no number of witnesses\ncould avail anything in proof of a miracle, why does he timidly\nconfine himself to the hypothesis of the queen's physicians only\ncoming forward? Why not call in the whole Privy Council?--or the Lord\nMayor and Common Council of London--the Sheriffs of Middlesex--and\nthe Twelve Judges? As to the court physicians, though three or\nfour nominally, virtually they are but one man. They have a common\ninterest, and in two separate ways they are liable to a suspicion\nof collusion: first, because the same motives which act upon\none probably act upon the rest. In this respect, they are under a\n_common_ influence; secondly, because, if not the motives, at\nany rate the physicians themselves, act upon each other. In this\nrespect, they are under a _reciprocal_ influence. They are to\nbe reasoned about as one individual.\n\n3dly. As Hume could not possibly fail to see all this, we may\nbe sure that his choice of witnesses was not accidental. In fact,\nhis apparent carelessness is very discreet management. His object\nwas, under the fiction of an independent multitude, to smuggle in\na virtual unity; for his court physicians are no plural body in\neffect and virtue, but a mere pleonasm and a tautology.\n\nAnd in good earnest, Hume had reason enough for his caution. How\nmuch or how little testimony would avail to establish a resurrection\nin any neutral [Footnote: By a neutral case is meant, 1st, one in\nwhich there is no previous reason from a great doctrine requiring\nsuch an event for its support, to expect a resurrection; 2dly, a\ncase belonging to a period of time in which it is fully believed\nthat miraculous agency has ceased.] case few people would be willing\nto pronounce off-hand, and, above all, on a fictitious case. Prudent\nmen, in such circumstances, would act as the judges in our English\ncourts, who are always displeased if it is attempted to elicit their\nopinions upon a point of law by a proposed fiction. And very reasonably;\nfor in these fictitious cases all the little circumstances of reality\nare wanting, and the oblique relations to such circumstances, out\nof which it is that any sound opinion can be formed. We all know\nvery well what Hume is after in this problem of a resurrection.\nAnd his case of Queen Elizabeth's resurrection being a perfectly\nfictitious case, we are at liberty to do any one of three different\nthings:--either simply to refuse an answer; or, 2dly, to give such\nan answer as he looks for, viz., to agree with him in his disbelief\nunder the supposed contingency; without, therefore, offering the\nslightest prejudice to any scriptural case of resurrection: i.\ne., we might go along with him in his premises, and yet balk him\nof his purpose; or, 3dly, we might even join issue with him, and\nperemptorily challenge his verdict upon his own fiction. For it\nis singular enough, that a modern mathematician of eminence (Mr.\nBabbage) has expressly considered this very imaginary question of\na resurrection, and he pronounces the testimony of _seven_\nwitnesses, competent and veracious, and presumed to have no bias,\nas sufficient to establish such a miracle.  Strip Hume's case of\nthe ambiguities already pointed out--suppose the physicians really\nseparate and independent witnesses--not a corporation speaking by\none organ--it will then become a mere question of degree between\nthe philosopher and the mathematician--seven witnesses? or fifty?\nor a hundred? For though none of us (not Mr. Babbage, we may be sure)\nseriously believes in the possibility of a resurrection occurring\nin these days, as little can any of us believe in the possibility\nthat seven witnesses, of honor and sagacity (but say seven hundred)\ncould be found to attest such an event when not occurring.\n\nBut the useful result from all this is, that Mr. Hume is evidently\naware of the case _Beta_, (of last Sect.) as a distinct case\nfrom _Alpha_ or from _Gamma_, though he affects blindness:\nhe is aware that a multitude of competent witnesses, no matter\nwhether seven or seven hundred, is able to establish that which a\nsingle witness could not; in fact, that increasing the number of\nwitnesses is able to compensate increasing incredibility in the\nsubject of doubt; that even supposing this subject a resurrection from\nthe dead, there may be assigned a quantity of evidence (_x_)\ngreater than the resistance to the credibility. And he betrays\nthe fact, that he has one eye open to his own Jesuitism by palming\nupon us an apparent multitude for a real one, thus drawing all the\ncredit he can from the name of a multitude, and yet evading the\nforce which he strictly knew to be lodged in the thing; seeking the\nreputation of the case _Beta_, but shrinking from its hostile\nforce.\n\n\n\nSECTION IV.\n\nOF THE ARGUMENT AS AFFECTED BY A CLASSIFICATION OF MIRACLES.\n\n\nLet us now inquire whether Hume's argument would be affected by\nthe differences in miracles upon the most general distribution of\ntheir kinds.\n\nMiracles may be classed generally as inner or outer.\n\nI. The inner, or those which may be called miracles for the\nindividual, are such as go on, or may go on, within the separate\npersonal consciousness of each separate man. And it shows how\nforgetful people are of the very doctrines which they themselves\nprofess as Christians, when we consider, on the one hand, that\nmiracles, in this sense, are essential to Christianity, and yet,\non the other hand, consider how often it is said that the age of\nmiracles is past. Doubtless, in the sense of external miracles, all\nsuch agencies are past.  But in the other sense, there are distinct\nclasses of the supernatural agency, which we are now considering;\nand these three are held by many Christians; two by most Christians;\nand the third by all. They are\n\na.--_Special Providences:_ which class it is that many\nphilosophic Christians doubt or deny.\n\nb.--_Grace:_ both predisposing [by old theologians called\n_prevenient_] and effectual.\n\nc.--_Prayer considered as efficacious._\n\nOf these three we repeat, that the two last are held by most\nChristians: and yet it is evident that both presume a supernatural\nagency. But this agency exists only where it is sought. And even where\nit _does_ exist, from its very nature (as an _interior_\nexperience for each separate consciousness) it is incommunicable.\nBut that does not defeat its purpose. It is of its essence to\nbe incommunicable. And, therefore, with relation to Hume's great\nargument, which was designed to point out a vast _hiatus_ or\ninconsistency in the divine economy--'Here is a miraculous agency,\nperhaps, but it is incommunicable: it may exist, but it cannot\nmanifest itself; which defect neutralizes it, and defeats the very\npurpose of its existence'--the answer is, that as respects these\ninterior miracles, there is no such inconsistency. They are meant\nfor the private forum of each man's consciousness: nor would it\nhave met any human necessity to have made them communicable. The\nlanguage of Scripture is, that he who wishes experimentally to know\nthe changes that may be accomplished by prayer, must pray. In that\nway only, and not by communication of knowledge from another, could\nhe understand it as a practical effect. And to understand it not\npractically, but only in a speculative way, could not meet any\nreligious wish, but merely an irreligious curiosity.\n\nAs respects one great division of miraculous agency, it is clear,\ntherefore, that Hume's argument does not apply. The arrow glances\npast: not so much missing its aim as taking a false one. The\n_hiatus_ which it supposes, the insulation and incommunicability\nwhich it charges upon the miraculous as a capital oversight, was\npart of the design: such mysterious agencies were _meant_ to be\nincommunicable, and for the same reason which shuts up each man's\nconsciousness into a silent world of its own--separate and inaccessible\nto all other consciousnesses. If a communication is thrown open\nby such agencies between the separate spirit of each man and the\nsupreme Spirit of the universe, then the end is accomplished: and\nit is part of that end to close this communication against all\nother cognizance.  So far Hume is baffled. The supernatural agency\nis incommunicable: it ought to be so. That is its perfection.\n\n\nII. But now, as respects the other great order of miracles--viz.,\nthe _external_, first of all, we may remark a very important\nsubdivision: miracles, in this sense, subdivide into two most\ndifferent orders--1st, _Evidential_ miracles, which simply\nprove Christianity.  2d, _Constituent_ miracles, which, in a\npartial sense, _are_ Christianity. And, perhaps, it may turn\nout that Hume's objection, if applicable at all, is here applicable\nin a separate way and with a varying force.\n\nThe first class, the evidential miracles, are all those which\nwere performed merely as evidences (whether simply as indications,\nor as absolute demonstrations) of the divine power which upheld\nChristianity. The second class, the constituent miracles, are those\nwhich constitute a part of Christianity. Two of these are absolutely\nindispensable to Christianity, and cannot be separated from it\neven in thought, viz., the miraculous birth of our Saviour, and\nhis miraculous resurrection.  The first is essential upon this\nground--that unless Christ had united the two natures (divine and\nhuman) he could not have made the satisfaction required: not being\nhuman, then, indeed, he might have had power to go through the\nmysterious sufferings of the satisfaction: but how would that have\napplied to man? It would have been perfect, but how would it have\nbeen relevant? Not being divine, then indeed any satisfaction he\ncould make would be relevant: but how would it have been perfect?\nThe mysterious and supernatural birth, therefore, was essential,\nas a capacitation for the work to be performed; and, on the other\nhand, the mysterious death and consequences were essential, as the\nvery work itself.\n\nNow, therefore, having made this distinction, we may observe, that\nthe first class of miracles was occasional and polemic: it was\nmeant to meet a special hostility incident to the birth-struggles\nof a new religion, and a religion which, for the very reason that\nit was true, stood opposed to the spirit of the world; of a religion\nwhich, in its first stage, had to fight against a civil power in\nabsolute possession of the civilized earth, and backed by seventy\nlegions. This being settled, it follows, that if Hume's argument\nwere applicable in its whole strength to the evidential miracles,\nno result of any importance could follow. It is clear that a\nChristianized earth never can want polemic miracles again; polemic\nmiracles were wanted for a transitional state, but such a state\ncannot return. Polemic miracles were wanted for a state of conflict\nwith a dominant idolatry, It was Christianity militant, and militant\nwith childlike arms, against Paganism triumphant. But Christianity,\nin league with civilization, and resting on the powers of this\nearth allied with her own, never again can speak to idolatrous\nman except from a station of infinite superiority. If, therefore,\nthese evidential miracles are incommunicable as respects their\nproofs to after generations, neither are they wanted.\n\nStill it will be urged--Were not the miracles meant for purposes\nulterior to the transitional state? Were they not meant equally\nfor the polemic purpose of confuting hostility at the moment, and\nof propping the faith of Christians in all after ages? The growing\nopinion amongst reflecting Christians is, that they were not: that\nthe evidential miracles accomplished their whole purpose in their\nown age. Something of supernatural agency, visibly displayed,\nwas wanted for the first establishment of a new faith. But, once\nestablished, it was a false faith only that could need this external\nsupport. Christianity could not unroot itself now, though every\ntrace of evidential miracle should have vanished. Being a true\nreligion, once rooted in man's knowledge and man's heart, it is\nself-sustained; it never could be eradicated.\n\nBut, waiving that argument, it is evident, that whatever becomes of\nthe evidential miracles, Christianity never can dispense with those\ntranscendent miracles which we have called _constituent_,--those\nwhich do not so much demonstrate Christianity as _are_ Christianity\nin a large integral section. Now as to the way in which Hume's\nargument could apply to these, we shall reserve what we have to\nsay until a subsequent section.  Meantime, with respect to the\nother class, the simply evidential miracles, it is plain, that\nif ever they should be called for again, then, as to _them_,\nHume's argument will be evaded, or not, according to their purpose.\nIf their function regards an individual, it will be no just objection\nto them that they are incommunicable. If it regards a multitude or\na nation, then the same power which utters the miracle can avail\nfor its manifestation before a multitude, as happened in the days\nof the New Testament, _and then is realized the case_ Beta\n_of Sect. II_, And if it is still objected, that even in that\ncase there could be no sufficient way of propagating the miracle,\nwith its evidence, to other times or places, the answer must be,--\n\n1st. That supposing the purpose merely polemic, that purpose is\nanswered without such a propagation.\n\n2dly. That, supposing the purpose, by possibility, an ulterior\npurpose, stretching into distant ages, even then our modern arts\nof civilization, printing, &c., give us advantages which place a\nremote age on a level with the present as to the force of evidence;\nand that even the defect of _autopsy_ may be compensated by\nsufficient testimony of a multitude, it is evident that Hume himself\nfelt, by his evasion in the case of the imaginary Elizabethan\nmiracle proposed by himself.\n\nRECAPITULATION.\n\nNow let us recapitulate the steps we have made before going on to\nthe rest.\n\n\nWe have drawn into notice [Sect. II.] the case _Beta_,--overlooked\nby Hume in his argument, but apparently not overlooked in his\nconsciousness,--the case where a multitude of witnesses overrules\nthe incommunicability attaching to a single witness.\n\n2dly. We have drawn into notice the class of internal miracles,--miracles\ngoing on in the inner economy of every Christian's heart; for it\nis essential to a Christian to allow of prayer. He cannot _be_\na Christian if he should condemn prayer; and prayer cannot hope to\nproduce its object without a miracle. And to such miracles Hume's\nargument, the argument of incommunicability, is inapplicable. They\ndo not seek to transplant themselves; every man's personal experience\nin this respect is meant for himself alone.\n\n3dly. Even amongst miracles _not_ internal, we have shown--that\nif one class (the merely evidential and polemic) are incommunicable,\n_i.e._ not capable of propagation to a remote age or place,\nthey have sufficiently fulfilled their immediate purpose by their\nimmediate effect. But such miracles are alien and accidental to\nChristianity. Christ himself reproved severely those who sought\nsuch signs, as a wicked, unbelieving generation; and afterwards\nhe reproved, with a most pathetic reproach, that one of his own\ndisciples who demanded such a sign. But besides these evidential\nmiracles, we noticed also,\n\n4thly. The constituent miracles of Christianity; upon which,\nas regarded Hume's argument, we reserved ourselves to the latter\nsection: and to these we now address ourselves.\n\nBut first we premise this\n\n_Lemma:_--That an _\u00e1 priori_ (or, as we shall show, an\n_a posteriori_) reason for believing a miracle, or for expecting\na miracle, will greatly disturb the valuation of _x_ (that\nis, the abstract resistance to credibility), as assumed in Hume's\nargument. This is the centre in which we are satisfied, lurks that\n\u03c0\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c8\u03b5\u03c5\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 which Hume himself suspected: and we add,\nthat as a vast number of witnesses (according to a remark made in\nSect. II.) will virtually operate as a reduction of the value allowed\nto _x_, until _x_ may be made to vanish altogether,--so\nin the reverse order, any material reduction of value in _x_\nwill virtually operate exactly as the multiplication of witnesses;\nand the case _Alpha_ will be raised to the case _Beta._\n\nThis _Lemma_ being stated as a point of appeal in what follows,\nwe proceed to\n\n\n\nSECTION V.\n\nON HUME'S ARGUMENT, AS AFFECTED BY THE PURPOSE.\n\n\nThis topic is so impressive, and indeed awful, in its relation to\nChristianity, that we shall not violate its majesty by doing more\nthan simply stating the case. All the known or imagined miracles\nthat ever were recorded as flowing from any Pagan origin,\nwere miracles--1, of ostentation; 2, of ambition and rivalship;\n3, expressions of power; or, 4, were blind accidents. Not even\nin pretence were any of them more than that.  First and last came\nthe Christian miracles, on behalf of a _moral_ purpose. The\npurpose was to change man's idea of his own nature; and to change\nhis idea of God's nature. Many other purposes might be stated; but\nall were moral. Now to any other wielder of supernatural power,\nreal or imaginary, it never had occurred by way of pretence even,\nthat in working miracles he had a moral object. And here, indeed,\ncomes in the argument of Christ with tremendous effect--that, whilst\nall other miracles might be liable to the suspicion of having been\neffected by alliance with darker agencies, his only (as sublime\nmoral agencies for working the only revolution that ever was worked\nin man's nature) could not be liable to such a suspicion; since,\nif an evil spirit would lend himself to the propagation of good in\nits most transcendent form, in that case the kingdom of darkness\nwould be 'divided against itself.'\n\nHere, then, is an _a posteriori_ reason, derived from the whole\nsubsequent life and death of the miracle-worker, for diminishing\nthe value of _x_ according to the _Lemma_.\n\n\n\nSECTION VI.\n\nON THE ARGUMENT OF HUME AS AFFECTED BY MATTERS OF FACT.\n\nIt is a very important axiom of the schoolmen in this case--that,\n_a posse ad esse non valet consequentia_, you can draw no\ninference from the possibility of a thing to its reality, but that,\nin the reverse order, _ab esse ad posse_, the inference is\ninevitable: if it is, or if it ever has been--then of necessity\nit can be.  Hume himself would have admitted, that the proof of\nany one miracle, beyond all possibility of doubt, at once lowered\nthe--_x_ of his argument (_i.e._ the value of the resistance\nto our faith) so as to affect the whole force of that argument, as\napplying to all other miracles whatever having a rational and an\nadequate purpose. Now it happens that we have two cases of miracles\nwhich can be urged in this view: one _a posteriori_, derived\nfrom our historical experience, and the other _a priori_. We\nwill take them separately.\n\n1. The _a priori_ miracle we call such--not (as the unphilosophic\nmay suppose) because it occurred previously to our own period,\nor from any consideration of time whatever, but in the logical\nmeaning, as having been derived from our reason in opposition to\nour experience.  This order of miracle it is manifest that Hume\noverlooked altogether, because he says expressly that we have\nnothing to appeal to in this dispute except our human experience.\nBut it happens that we have; and precisely where the possibilities\nof experience desert us. We know nothing through experience\n(whether physical or historical) of what preceded or accompanied\nthe first introduction of man upon this earth. But in the absence\nof all experience, our reason informs us--that he must have been\nintroduced by a supernatural agency. Thus far we are sure.  For\nthe sole alternative is one which would be equally mysterious, and\nbesides, contradictory to the marks of change--of transition--and\nof perishableness in our planet itself,--viz. the hypothesis of\nan eternal unoriginated race: and that is more confounding to the\nhuman intellect than any miracle whatever: so that, even tried\nmerely as one probability against another, the miracle would have\nthe advantage. The miracle supposes a supersensual and transcendent\ncause. The opposite hypothesis supposes effects without any cause.\nIn short, upon any hypothesis, we are driven to suppose--and\ncompelled to suppose--a miraculous state as introductory to the\nearliest state of nature. The planet, indeed, might form itself\nby mechanical laws of motion, repulsion, attraction, and central\nforces.  But man could not. Life could not. Organization, even\nanimal organization, might perhaps be explained out of mechanical\ncauses. But life could not. Life is itself a great miracle. Suppose the\nnostrils formed by mechanic agency; still the breath of life could\nnot enter them without a supernatural force. And _a fortiori_,\nman, with his intellectual and moral capacities, could not arise\nupon this planet without a higher agency than any lodged in that\nnature which is the object of our present experience. This kind of\nmiracle, as deduced by our reason, and not witnessed experimentally,\nor drawn from any past records, we call an _a priori miracle.\n\n2. But there is another kind of miracle, which Hume ought not to\nhave overlooked, but which he has, however, overlooked: he himself\nobserves, very justly, that PROPHECY is a distinct species of the\nmiraculous; and, no doubt, he neglected the Scriptural Prophecies,\nas supposing them all of doubtful interpretation, or believing with\nPorphyry, that such as are not doubtful, must have been posterior\nto the event which they point to. It happens, however, that there\nare some prophecies which cannot be evaded or 'refused,' some to\nwhich neither objection will apply.  One, we will here cite, by\nway of example:--The prophecy of Isaiah, describing the desolation\nof Babylon, was delivered about seven centuries before Christ. A\ncentury or so _after_ Christ, comes Porphyry, and insinuates,\nthat all the prophecies alike might be comparatively recent forgeries!\nWell, for a moment suppose it: but, at least, they existed in the\ndays of Porphyry.  Now, it happens, that more than two centuries\nafter Porphyry, we have good evidence, as to Babylon, that it had\nnot yet reached the stage of utter desolation predicted by Isaiah.\nFour centuries after Christ, we learn from a Father of the Christian\nChurch, who had good personal information as to its condition, that\nit was then become a solitude, but a solitude in good preservation\nas a royal park. The vast city had disppeared, and the murmur\nof myriads: but as yet there were no signs whatever of ruin or\ndesolation. Not until our own nineteenth century was the picture\nof Isaiah seen in full realization--then lay the lion basking at\nnoonday--then crawled the serpents from their holes; and at night\nthe whole region echoed with the wild cries peculiar to arid\nwildernesses. The transformations, therefore, of Babylon, have been\ngoing on slowly through a vast number of centuries until the perfect\naccomplishment of Isaiah's picture. Perhaps they have travelled\nthrough a course of much more than two thousand years: and from\nthe glimpses we gain of Babylon at intervals, we know for certain\nthat Isaiah had been dead for many centuries before his vision\ncould have even _begun_ to realize itself. But then, says an\nobjector, the final ruins of great empires and cities may be safely\nassumed on general grounds of observation. Hardly, however, if they\nhappen to be seated in a region so fertile as Mesopotamia, and on\na great river like the Euphrates. But allow this possibility--allow\nthe natural disappearance of Babylon in a long course of centuries.\nIn other cases the disappearance is gradual, and at length perfect.\nNo traces can now be found of Carthage; none of Memphis; or, if you\nsuppose something peculiar to Mesopotamia, no traces can be found\nof Nineveh, or on the other side of that region: none of other great\ncities--Roman, Parthian, Persian, Median, in that same region or\nadjacent regions. Babylon only is circumstantially described by\nJewish prophecy as long surviving itself in a state of visible and\naudible desolation: and to Babylon only such a description applies.\nOther prophecies might be cited with the same result. But this is\nenough. And here is an _a posteriori_ miracle.\n\nNow, observe: these two orders of miracle, by their very nature,\nabsolutely evade the argument of Hume.  The incommunicability\ndisappears altogether. The value of--_x_ absolutely vanishes\nand becomes = 0.  The human reason being immutable, suggests to\nevery age, renews and regenerates for ever, the necessary inference\nof a miraculous state antecedent to the natural state. And, for\nthe miracles of prophecy, these require no evidence and depend upon\nnone: they carry their own evidence along with them; they utter\ntheir own testimonies, and they are continually reinforcing them;\nfor, probably, every successive period of time reproduces fresh\ncases of prophecy completed.  But even one, like that of Babylon,\nrealizes the case of Beta (Sect. II.) in its most perfect form.\nHistory, which attests it, is the voice of every generation, checked\nand countersigned in effect by all the men who compose it.\n\n\n\nSECTION VII.\n\nOF THE ARGUMENT AS AFFECTED BY THE PARTICULAR WORKER OF THE MIRACLES.\n\n\nThis is the last 'moment,' to use the language of Mechanics, which\nwe shall notice in this discussion.  And here there is a remarkable\n_petitio principii_ in Hume's management of his argument.\nHe says, roundly, that it makes no difference at all if God were\nconnected with the question as the author of the supposed miracles.\nAnd why? Because, says he, we know God only by experience--meaning\nas involved in nature--and, therefore, that in so far as miracles\ntranscend our experience of nature, they transcend by implication\nour experience of God. But the very question under discussion\nis--whether God did, or did not, manifest himself to human experience\nin the miracles of the New Testament. But at all events, the idea\nof God in itself already includes the notion of a _power_ to\nwork miracles, whether that power were over exercised or not; and\nas Sir Isaac Newton thought that space might be the sensorium of\nGod, so may we (and with much more philosophical propriety) affirm\nthat the miraculous and the transcendent is the very nature of God.\nGod being assumed, it is as easy to believe in a miracle issuing\nfrom him as in any operation according to the laws of nature (which,\nafter all, is possibly in many points only the nature of our planet):\nit is as easy, because either mode of action is indifferent to\nhim. Doubtless this argument, when addressed to an Atheist, loses\nits force; because he refuses to assume a God. But then, on the\nother hand, it must be remembered that Hume's argument itself does\nnot stand on the footing of Atheism. He supposes it binding on a\nTheist. Now a Theist, in starting from the idea of God, grants, of\nnecessity, the plenary power of miracles as greater and more awful\nthan man could even comprehend. All he wants is a sufficient motive\nfor such transcendent agencies; but this is supplied in excess\n(as regards what we have called the _constituent_ miracles of\nChristianity) by the case of a religion that was to revolutionize\nthe moral nature of man. The moral nature--the kingdom of the\nwill--is esentially opposed to the kingdom of nature even by the\nconfession of irreligious philosophers; and, therefore, being itself\na supersensual field, it seems more reasonably adapted to agencies\nsupernatural than such as are natural.\n\nGENERAL RECAPITULATION.\n\nIn Hume's argument,--_x_, which expresses the resistance to\ncredibility in a miracle, is valued as of necessity equal to the\nveiy maximum or ideal of human testimony; which, under the very\nbest circumstances, might be equal to +_x,_ in no case more,\nand in all known cases less. We, on the other hand, have endeavored\nto show--\n\n1. That, because Hume contemplates only the case of a single\nwitness, it will happen that the case _Beta_ [of Sect. II.]\nwhere a multitude of witnesses exist, may greatly exceed +_x;_\nand with a sufficient multitude must exceed _x_.\n\n2. That in the case of internal miracles--operations of divine agency\nwithin the mind and conscience of the individual--Hume's argument\nis necessarily set aside: the evidence, the +_x_, is perfect\nfor the individual, and the miraculous agency is meant for him\nonly.\n\n3. That, in the case of one primary miracle, viz.  the first\norganization of man on this planet, the evidence greatly transcends\n_x:_ because here it is an evidence not derived from experience\nat all, but from the reflecting reason: and the miracle has the\nsame advantage over facts of experience, that a mathematical truth\nhas over the truths which rest on induction.  It is the difference\nbetween _must be_ and _is_--between the inevitable and the merely\nactual.\n\n4. That, in the case of another order of miracles, viz. prophecies,\nHume's argument is again overruled; because the +_x_ in this\ncase, the affirmative evidence, is not derived froms human testimony.\nSome prophecies are obscure; they may be fulfilled possibly without\nmen's being aware of the fulfilment. But others, as that about\nthe fate of Babylon--about the fate of the Arabs (the children of\nIshmael)--about the fate of the Jews--are not of a nature to be\nmisunderstood; and the evidence which attends them is not alien,\nbut is intrinsic, and developed by themselves in successive stages\nfrom age to age.\n\n5. That, because the primary miracle in No. 3, argues at least a\n_power_ competent to the working of a miracle, for any after\nmiracle we have only to seek a sufficient _motive_. Now, the\nobjects of the Christian revelation were equal at the least to those\nof the original creation. In fact, Christianity may be considered\nas a second creation; and the justifying cause for the _constituent_\nmiracles of Christianity is even to us as apparent as any which\ncould have operated at the primary creation. The _epigenesis_\nwas, at least, as grand an occasion as the _genesis_. Indeed,\nit is evident, for example, that Christianity itself could not\nhave existed without the constituent miracle of the Resurrection;\nbecause without that there would have been no conquest over death.\nAnd here, as in No. 3, +_x_ is derived--not from any experience,\nand therefore cannot be controlled by that sort of hostile experience\nwhich Hume's argument relies on; but is derived from the reason\nwhich transcends all experience.\n\n\n\n\nCASUISTRY.\n\n[1839.]\n\n\n\nPART I.\n\n\nIt is remarkable, in the sense of being noticeable and interesting,\nbut not in the sense of being surprising, that Casuistry has fallen\ninto disrepute throughout all Protestant lands. This disrepute is\na result partly due to the upright morality which usually follows\nin the train of the Protestant faith. So far it is honorable, and\nan evidence of superior illumination. But, in the excess to which\nit has been pushed, we may trace also a blind and somewhat bigoted\nreaction of the horror inspired by the abuses of the Popish\nConfessional.  Unfortunately for the interests of scientific ethics,\nthe first cultivators of casuistry had been those who kept in view\nthe professional service of auricular confession.  Their purpose\nwas--to assist the reverend confessor in appraising the quality of\ndoubtful actions, in order that he might properly adjust his scale\nof counsel, of warning, of reproof, and of penance.  Some, therefore,\nin pure simplicity and conscientious discharge of the duty they had\nassumed, but others, from lubricity of morals or the irritations\nof curiosity, pushed their investigations into unhallowed paths of\nspeculation. They held aloft a torch for exploring guilty recesses-of\nhuman life, which it is far better for us all to leave in their\noriginal darkness. Crimes that were often all but imaginary,\nextravagances of erring passion that would never have been known\nas possibilities to the young and the innocent, were thus published\nin their most odious details. At first, it is true, the decent\ndraperies of a dead language were suspended before these abominations:\nbut sooner or later some knave was found, on mercenary motives,\nto tear away this partial veil; and thus the vernacular literature\nof most nations in Southern Europe, was gradually polluted with\nrevelations that had been originally made in the avowed service of\nreligion. Indeed, there was one aspect of such books which proved\neven more extensively disgusting. Speculations pointed to monstrous\noffences, bore upon their very face and frontispiece the intimation\nthat they related to cases rare and anomalous. But sometimes casuistry\npressed into the most hallowed recesses of common domestic life.\nThe delicacy of youthful wives, for example, was often not less\ngrievously shocked than the manliness of husbands, by refinements\nof monkish subtlety applied to cases never meant for religious\ncognisance--but far better left to the decision of good feeling,\nof nature, and of pure household morality. Even this revolting use\nof casuistry, however, did less to injure its name and pretensions\nthan a persuasion, pretty generally diffused, that the main purpose\nand drift of this science was a sort of hair-splitting process, by\nwhich doubts might be applied to the plainest duties of life, or\nquestions raised on the extent of their obligations, for the single\nbenefit of those who sought to evade them. A casuist was viewed,\nin short, as a kind of lawyer or special pleader in morals, such\nas those who, in London, are known as Old Bailey practitioners,\ncalled in to manage desperate cases--to suggest all available\nadvantages--to raise doubts or distinctions where simple morality\nsaw no room for either--and generally to teach the art, in nautical\nphrase, of sailing as near the wind as possible, without fear of\nabsolutely foundering.\n\nMeantime it is certain that casuistry, when soberly applied, is not\nonly a beneficial as well as a very interesting study; but that, by\nwhatever title, it is absolutely indispensable to the _practical_\ntreatment of morals.  We may reject the name; the thing we cannot\nreject.  And accordingly the custom has been, in all English\ntreatises on ethics, to introduce a good deal of casuistry under\nthe idea of special illustration, but without any reference to\ncasuistry as a formal branch of research. Indeed, as society grows\ncomplex, the uses of casuistry become more urgent. Even Cicero\ncould not pursue his theme through such barren generalizations as\nentirely to evade all notice of special cases: and Paley has given\nthe chief interest to his very loose investigations of morality,\nby scattering a selection of such cases over the whole field of\nhis discussion.\n\nThe necessity of casuistry might, in fact, be deduced from the\nvery origin, and genesis of the word.  First came the general law\nor rule of action. This was like the major proposition of a syllogism.\nBut next came a special instance or _case_, so stated as to\nindicate whether it did or did not fall under the general rule.\nThis, again, was exactly the minor proposition in a syllogism. For\nexample, in logic we say, as the major proposition in a syllogism,\n_Man is mortal_. This is the rule. And then 'subsuming' (such\nis the technical phrase--_subsuming_) Socrates under the\nrule by a minor proposition--viz. Socrates is a man--we are able\nmediately to connect him with the predicate of that rule, viz,\n_ergo_, Socrates is mortal.[Footnote: The ludicrous blunder\nof Reid (as first published by Lord Kames in his _Sketches_),\nand of countless others, through the last seventy or eighty years,\nin their critiques on the logic of Aristotle, has been to imagine\nthat such illustrations of syllogism as these were meant for specimens\nof what syllogism could perform. What an elaborate machinery, it\nwas said, for bringing out the merest self-evident truisms! But\njust as reasonably it might have been objected, when a mathematician\nillustrated the process of addition by saying 3+4=7, Behold what pompous\nnothings! These Aristotelian illustrations were _purposely_\ndrawn from cases not open to dispute, and simply as exemplifications\nof the meaning: they were intentionally self-evident.] Precisely upon\nthis model arose casuistry. A general rule, or major proposition,\nwas laid down--suppose that he who killed any human being, except\nunder the palliations X, Y, Z, was a murderer. Then in a minor\nproposition, the special case of the suicide was considered.  It\nwas affirmed, or it was denied, that his case fell under some one\nof the palliations assigned. And then, finally, accordingly to\nthe negative or affirmative shape of this minor proposition, it\nwas argued, in the conclusion, that the suicide was or was not, a\nmurderer.  Out of these _cases_, i.e. oblique deflexions from\nthe universal rule (which is also the grammarian's sense of the\nword _case_) arose _casuistry_.\n\nAfter morality has done its very utmost in clearing up the grounds\nupon which it rests its decisions--after it has multiplied its\nrules to any possible point of circumstantiality--there will always\ncontinue to arise cases without end, in the shifting combinations\nof human action, about which a question will remain whether they\ndo or do not fall under any of these rules. And the best way for\nseeing this truth illustrated on a broad scale, the shortest way\nand the most decisive is--to point our attention to one striking\nfact, viz. that all law, as it exists in every civilized land, is\nnothing but casuistry. Simply because new cases are for ever arising\nto raise new doubts whether they do or do not fall under the rule\nof law, therefore it is that law is so inexhaustible. The law\nterminates a dispute for the present by a decision of a court,\n(which constitutes our '_common law_,') or by an express act\nof the legislature, (which constitutes our '_statute law_.')\nFor a month or two matters flow on smoothly. But then comes a new\ncase, not contemplated or not verbally provided for in the previous\nrule. It is varied by some feature of difference. The feature, it\nis suspected, makes no _essential_ difference: substantially\nit may be the old case. Ay--but that is the very point to be\ndecided. And so arises a fresh suit at law, and a fresh decision.\nFor example, after many a decision and many a statute, (all arising\nout of cases supervening upon cases,) suppose that great subdivision\nof jurisprudence called the Bankrupt Laws to have been gradually\nmatured. It has been settled, suppose, that he who exercises a\ntrade, and no other whatsoever, shall be entitled to the benefit\nof the bankrupt laws. So far is fixed: and people vainly imagine\nthat at length a station of rest is reached, and that in this\ndirection at least, the onward march of law is barred. Not at all.\nSuddenly a schoolmaster becomes insolvent, and attempts to avail\nhimself of privileges as a technical bankrupt. But then arises a\nresistance on the part of those who are interested in resisting:\nand the question is raised--Whether the calling of a schoolmaster\ncan be legally considered a trade? This also is settled: it is\nsolemnly determined that a schoolmaster is a tradesman.  But next\narises a case, in which, from peculiar variation of the circumstances,\nit is doubtful whether the teacher can technically be considered\na schoolmaster. Suppose that case settled: a schoolmaster,\nsub-distinguished as an X Y schoolmaster, is adjudged to come within\nthe meaning of the law. But scarcely is this sub-variety disposed\nof, than up rises some decomplex case, which is a sub-variety of\nthis sub-variety: and so on for ever.\n\nHence, therefore, we may see the shortsightedness of Paley in\nquoting with approbation, and as if it implied a reproach, that\nthe Mussulman religious code contains 'not less than seventy-five\nthousand traditional precepts.' True: but if this statement shows\nan excess of circumstantiality in the moral systems of Mussulmans,\nthat result expresses a fact which Paley overlooks--viz. that their\nmoral code is in reality their legal code. It is by aggregation\nof _cases_, by the everlasting depullulation of fresh sprouts\nand shoots from old boughs, that this enormous accumulation takes\nplace; and, therefore, the apparent anomaly is exactly paralleled\nin our unmanageable superstructure of law, and in the French\nsupplements to their code, which have already far overbuilt the\ncode itself. If names were disregarded, we and the Mahometans are\nin the very same circumstances.\n\nCasuistry, therefore, is the science of cases, or of those special\nvarieties which are forever changing the face of actions as\ncontemplated in general rules. The tendency of such variations is,\nin all states of complex civilization, to absolute infinity.[Footnote:\nWe have noticed our own vast pile of law, and that of the French.\nBut neither of us has yet reached the alarming amount of the Roman\nlaw, under which the very powers of social movement threatened to\nbreak down. Courts could not decide, advocates could not counsel,\nso interminable was becoming the task of investigation. This led\nto the great digest of Justinian. But, had Roman society advanced\nin wealth, extent, and social development, instead of retrograding,\nthe same result would have returned in a worse shape. The same\nresult now menaces England, and will soon menace her much more.]\nIt is our present purpose to state a few of such cases, in order to\nfix attention upon the interest and the importance which surround\nthem. No modern book of ethics can be worth notice, unless in\nso far as it selects and argues the more prominent of such cases,\nas they offer themselves in the economy of daily life. For we\nrepeat--that the name, the word casuistry, may be evaded, but the\nthing cannot; nor _is_ it evaded in our daily conversations.\n\nI. _The Case of the Jaffa Massacre,_--No case in the whole\ncompass of casuistry has been so much argued to and fro--none has\nbeen argued with so little profit; for, in fact, the main elements\nof the moral decision have been left out of view. Let us state the\ncircumstances:--On the 11th of February, 1799, Napoleon, then and\nfor seven months before in military possession of Egypt, began\nhis march towards Syria. His object was to break the force of any\nTurkish invasion, by taking it in fractions. It had become notorious\nto every person in Egypt, that the Porte rejected the French pretence\nof having come for the purpose of quelling Mameluke rebellion--the\nabsurdity of which, apart from its ludicrous Quixotism, was evident\nin the most practical way, viz. by the fact, that the whole revenues\nof Egypt were more than swallowed up by the pay and maintenance of\nthe French army. What could the Mamelukes have done worse?  Hence\nit had become certain that the Turks would send an expedition to\nEgypt; and Napoleon viewing the garrisons in Syria as the advanced\nguard of such an expedition, saw the best chance for general victory\nin meeting these troops beforehand, and destroying them in detail.\nAbout nineteen days brought him within view of the Syrian fields.\nOn the last day of February he slept at the Arimathea of the Gospel.\nIn a day or two after his army was before Jaffa, (the Joppa of the\nCrusaders,)--a weak place, but of some military interest,[Footnote:\nIt is singular that some peculiar interest has always settled upon\nJaffa, no matter who was the military leader of the time, or what\nthe object of the struggle.  From Julius Caesar, Joppa enjoyed\nsome special privileges and immunities--about a century after, in\nthe latter years of Nero, a most tragical catastrophe happened at\nJoppa to the Syrian pirates, by which the very same number perished\nas in the Napoleon massacre, viz. something about 4000. In the 200\nyears of the Crusades, Joppa revived again into military verdure.\nThe fact is, that the shore of Syria is pre-eminently deficient\nin natural harbors, or facilities for harbors--those which exist\nhave been formed by art and severe contest with the opposition of\nnature. Hence their extreme paucity, and hence their disproportionate\nimportance in every possible war.] from the accident of being the\nvery first fortified town to those entering Palestine from the side\nof Egypt. On the 4th of March this place was invested; on the 6th,\nbarely forty-eight hours after, it was taken by storm. This fact\nis in itself important; because it puts an end to the pretence so\noften brought forward, that the French army had been irritated by\na long resistance. Yet, supposing the fact to have been so, how\noften in the history of war must every reader have met with cases\nwhere honorable terms were granted to an enemy merely on account of\nhis obstinate resistance? But then here, it is said, the resistance\nwas wilfully pushed to the arbitration of a storm.  Even that might\nbe otherwise stated; but, suppose it true, a storm in military law\nconfers some rights upon the assailants which else they would not\nhave had--rights, however, which cease with the day of storming.\nNobody denies that the French army might have massacred all whom\nthey me't in arms at the time and during the agony of storming. But\nthe question is, Whether a resistance of forty-eight hours could\ncreate the right, or in the least degree palliate the atrocity,\nof putting prisoners to death in cold blood? Four days after the\nstorming, when all things had settled back into the quiet routine\nof ordinary life, men going about their affairs as usual, confidence\nrestored, and, above all things, after the faith of a Christian\narmy had been pledged to these prisoners that not a hair of their\nheads should be touched, the imagination is appalled by this\nwholesale butchery--even the apologists of Napoleon are shocked by\nthe amount of murder, though justifying its principle. They admit\nthat there were two divisions of the prisoners--one of fifteen\nhundred, the other of two thousand five hundred.  Their combined\namount is equal to a little army; in fact, just about that army\nwith which we fought and won the battle of Maida in Calabria. They\ncomposed a force equal to about six English regiments of infantry\non the common establishment. Every man of these four thousand\nsoldiers, chiefly brave Albanians--every man of this little army\nwas basely, brutally, in the very spirit of abject poltroonery,\nmurdered--murdered as foully as the infants of Bethlehem; resistance\nbeing quite hopeless, not only because they had surrendered their\narms, but also because, in reliance on Christian honor, they had\nquietly submitted to have their hands confined with ropes behind\ntheir backs. If this blood did not lie heavy on Napoleon's heart in\nhis dying hours, it must have been because a conscience originally\ncallous had been seared by the very number of his atrocities.\n\nNow, having stated the case, let us review the casuistical apologies\nput forward. What was to be done with these prisoners? There lay\nthe difficulty. Could they be retained according to the common\nusage with regard to prisoners? No; for there was a scarcity of\nprovisions, barely sufficient for the French army itself.  Could they\nbe transported to Egypt by sea? No; for two English line-of-battle\nships, the Theseus and the Tiger, were cruising in the offing, and\nwatching the interjacent seas of Egypt and Syria. Could they be\ntransported to Egypt by land? No; for it was not possible to spare\na sufficient escort; besides, this plan would have included the\nseparate difficulty as to food.  Finally, then, as the sole resource\nleft, could they be turned adrift? No; for this was but another\nmode of saying, 'Let us fight the matter over again; reinstate\nyourselves as our enemies; let us leave Jaffa _re infect\u00e2_,\nand let all begin again _de novo_'--since, assuredly, say the\nFrench apologists, in a fortnight from that date, the prisoners\nwould have been found swelling the ranks of those Turkish forces\nwhom Napoleon had reason to expect in front.\n\nBefore we take one step in replying to these arguments, let\nus cite two parallel cases from history: they are interesting for\nthemselves, and they show how other armies, not Christian, have\ntreated the self-same difficulty in practice. The first shall be\na leaf taken from the great book of Pagan experience; the second\nfrom Mahometan: and both were cases in which the parties called on\nto cut the knot had been irritated to madness by the parties lying\nat their disposal.\n\n1. The Pagan Decision.--In that Jewish war of more than three\nyears' duration, which terminated in the destruction of Jerusalem,\ntwo cities on the lake of Gennesaret were besieged by Vespasian. One\nof these was Tiberias: the other Tarich\u00e6. Both had been defended\nwith desperation; and from their peculiar situation upon water,\nand amongst profound precipices, the Roman battering apparatus had\nnot been found applicable to their walls. Consequently the resistance\nand the loss to the Romans had been unexampled.  At the latter\nsiege Vespasian was present in person. Six thousand five hundred\nhad perished of the enemy. A number of prisoners remained, amounting\nto about forty thousand. What was to be done with them? A great\ncouncil was held, at which the commander-in-chief presided, assisted\n(as Napoleon) by his whole staff. Many of the officers were strongly\nfor having the whole put to death: they used the very arguments of\nthe French--'that, being people now destitute of habitations, they\nwould infallibly urge any cities which received them into a war:'\nfighting, in fact, henceforward upon a double impulse--viz. the\noriginal one of insurrection, and a new one of revenge.  Vespasian\nwas sensible of all this; and he himself remarked, that, if they\nhad any indulgence of flight conceded, they would assuredly use\nit against the authors of that indulgence. But still, as an answer\nto all objections, he insisted on the solitary fact, that he had\npledged the Roman faith for the security of their lives; 'and to\noffer violence, after he had given them his right hand, was what he\ncould not bear to think of.' Such are the simple words of Josephus.\nIn the end, overpowered by his council, Vespasian made a sort of\ncompromise. Twelve hundred, as persons who could not have faced\nthe hardships of captivity and travel, he gave up to the sword.\nSix thousand select young men were transported as laborers into\nGreece, with a view to Nero's scheme, then in agitation, for cutting\nthrough the isthmus of Corinth; the main body, amounting to thirty\nthousand, were sold for slaves; and all the rest, who happened to\nbe subjects of Agrippa, as a mark of courtesy to that prince, were\nplaced at his disposal.  Now, in this case, it will be alleged that\nperhaps the main feature of Napoleon's case was not realized, viz.\nthe want of provisions. Every Roman soldier carried on his shoulders\na load of seventeen days' provisions, expressly in preparation for\nsuch dilemmas; and Palestine was then rank with population gathered\ninto towns. This objection will be noticed immediately: but, meantime,\nlet it be remembered that the prisoners personally appeared before\ntheir conquerors in far worse circumstances than the garrison of\nJaffa, except as to the one circumstance (in which both parties\nstood on equal ground) of having had their lives guaranteed.  For\nthe prisoners of Gennesaret were chiefly aliens and fugitives from\njustice, who had no national or local interest in the cities which\nthey had tempted or forced into insurrection; they were clothed with\nno military character whatever; in short, they were pure vagrant\nincendiaries. And the populous condition of Palestine availed little\ntowards the execution of Vespasian's sentence: nobody in that land\nwould have bought such prisoners; nor, if they would, were there\nany means available, in the agitated state of the Jewish people,\nfor maintaining their purchase. It would, therefore, be necessary\nto escort them to Caesarea, as the nearest Roman port for shipping\nthem: thence perhaps to Alexandria, in order to benefit by the corn\nvessels: and from Alexandria the voyage to remoter places would\nbe pursued at great cost and labor--all so many objections exactly\ncorresponding to those of Napoleon, and yet all overruled by the\nsingle consideration of a Roman (viz. a Pagan) right hand pledged\nto the fulfilment of a promise. As to the twelve hundred old and\nhelpless people massacred in cold blood, as regarded themselves it\nwas a merciful doom, and one which many of the Jerusalem captives\nafterwards eagerly courted. But still it was a shocking case. It\nwas felt to be so by many Romans themselves: Vespasian was overruled\nin that instance: and the horror which settled upon the mind of\nTitus, his eldest son, from that very case amongst others, made\n_him_ tender of human life, and anxiously merciful, through\nthe great tragedies which were now beginning to unrol themselves.\n\n2. _The Mahometan Decision_.--The Emperor Charles V., at\ndifferent periods, twice invaded the piratical states in the north\nof Africa. The last of these invasions, directed against Algiers,\nfailed miserably, covering the Emperor with shame, and strewing both\nland and sea with the wrecks of his great armament.  But six years\nbefore, he had conducted a most splendid and successful expedition\nagainst Tunis, then occupied by Heyradin Barbarossa, a valiant\ncorsair and a prosperous usurper. Barbarossa had an irregular\nforce of fifty thousand men; the Emperor had a veteran army, but\nnot acclimatized, and not much above one half as numerous. Things\ntended, therefore, strongly to an equilibrium. Such were the\ncircumstances--such was the position on each side: Barbarossa, with\nhis usual adventurous courage, was drawing out of Tunis in order to\nfight the invader: precisely at that moment occurred the question\nof what should be done with the Christian slaves. A stronger case\ncannot be imagined: they were ten thousand fighting men; and the\nmore horrible it seemed to murder so many defenceless people, the\nmore dreadfully did the danger strike upon the imagination. It was\ntheir number which appalled the conscience of those who speculated\non their murder; but precisely that it was, when pressed upon the\nrecollection, which appalled the prudence of their Moorish masters.\nBarbarossa himself, familiar with bloody actions, never hesitated\nabout the proper course: 'massacre without mercy' was _his_\nproposal. But his officers thought otherwise: they were brave men;\n'and,' says Robertson, 'they all approved warmly of his intention\nto fight. But, inured as they were to scenes of bloodshed, the\nbarbarity of his proposal filled them with horror; and Barbarossa,\nfrom the dread of irritating them, consented to spare the lives of\nthe slaves.' Now, in this case, the penalty attached to mercy, in\ncase it should turn out unhappily for those who so nobly determined\nto stand the risk, cannot be more tragically expressed, than by\nsaying that it _did_ turn out unhappily. We need not doubt\nthat the merciful officers were otherwise rewarded; but for this\nworld and the successes of this world the ruin was total.  Barbarossa\nwas defeated in the battle which ensued; flying pell-mell to Tunis\nwith the wrecks of his army, he found these very ten thousand\nChristians in possession of the fort and town: they turned his\nown artillery upon himself: and his overthrow was sealed by that\none act of mercy--so unwelcome from the very first to his own\nNapoleonish temper.\n\nThus we see how this very case of Jaffa had been Settled by Pagan\nand Mahometan casuists, where courage and generosity happened to\nbe habitually prevalent.  Now, turning back ta the pseudo-Christian\narmy, let us very briefly review the arguments for _them_.\nFirst, there were no provisions. But how happened that? or how is\nit proved? Feeding the prisoners from the 6th to the 10th inclusively\nof March, proves that there was no instant want. And how was it,\nthen, that Napoleon had run his calculations so narrowly!  The\nprisoners were just 33 per cent, on the total French army, as\noriginally detached from Cairo. Some had already perished of that\narmy: and in a few weeks more, one half of that army had perished,\nor six thousand men, whose rations were hourly becoming disposable\nfor the prisoners. Secondly, a most important point, resources must\nhave been found in Jaffa.\n\nBut thirdly, if not, if Jaffa were so ill-provisioned, how had it\never dreamed of standing a siege? And knowing its condition, as\nNapoleon must have done from deserters and otherwise, how came he\nto adopt so needless a measure as that of storming the place?  Three\ndays must have compelled it to surrender upon any terms, if it could\nbe really true that, after losing vast numbers of its population\nin the assault (for it was the bloodshed of the assault which\noriginally suggested the interference of the aides-de-camp,) Jaffa\nwas not able to allow half-rations even to a _part_ of its\ngarrison for a few weeks. What was it meant that the whole should\nhave done, had Napoleon simply blockaded it?  Through all these\ncontradictions we see the truth looming as from behind a mist:\nit was not because provisions failed that Napoleon butchered four\nthousand young men in cold blood; it was because he wished to\nsignalize his entrance into Palestine by a sanguinary act, such\nas might strike terror far and wide, resound through Syria as well\nas Egypt, and paralyze the nerves of his enemies. Fourthly, it is\nurged that, if he had turned the prisoners loose, they would have\nfaced him again in his next battle. How so? Prisoners without arms?\nBut then, perhaps, they could have retreated upon Acre, where it\nis known that Djezzar, the Turkish pacha, had a great magazine of\narms.  That might have been dangerous, if any such retreat had been\nopen. But surely the French army, itself under orders for Acre,\ncould at least have intercepted the Acre route from the prisoners.\nNo other remained but that through the defiles of Naplous. In this\ndirection, however, there was no want of men. Beyond the mountains\ncavalry only were in use: and the prisoners had no horses, nor\nhabits of acting as cavalry.  In the defiles it was riflemen who\nwere wanted, and the prisoners had no rifles; besides that, the\nline of the French operations never came near to that route. Then,\nagain, if provisions were so scarce, how were the unarmed prisoners\nto obtain them on the simple allegation that they had fought\nunsuccessfully against the French!\n\nBut, finally, one conclusive argument there is against this damnable\natrocity of Napoleon's, which, in all future Lives of Napoleon,\none may expect to see-noticed, viz., that if the circumstances of\nPalestine were such as to forbid the ordinary usages of war, if (which\nwe are far from believing) want of provisions made it indispensable\nto murder prisoners in cold blood--in that case a _Syrian war_\nbecame impossible to a man of honor; and the guilt commences from\na higher point than Jaffa. Already at Cairo, and in the elder stages\nof the expedition, planned in face of such afflicting necessities,\nwe read the counsels of a murderer; of one rightly carrying such a\nstyle of warfare towards the ancient country of the assassins; of\none not an apostate merely from Christian humanity, but from the\nlowest standard of soldierly honor. He and his friends abuse Sir\nHudson Lowe as a jailer. But far better to be a jailer, and faithful\nto one's trust, than to be the cut-throat of unarmed men.\n\nOne consideration remains, which we reserve to the end; because\nit has been universally overlooked, and because it is conclusive\nagainst Napoleon, even on his own hypothesis of an absolute necessity.\nIn Vespasian's case it does not appear that he had gained anything\nfor himself, or for his army, by his promise of safety to the enemy:\nhe had simply gratified his own feelings by holding out prospects\nof final escape. But Napoleon had absolutely seduced the four\nthousand men from a situation of power, from vantage-ground, by his\ntreacherous promise. And when the French apologists plead--'If we\nhad dismissed the prisoners we should soon have had to fight the\nbattle over again'--they totally forget the state of the facts:\nthey had not fought the battle at all: they had evaded the battle\nas to these prisoners: as many enemies as could have faced them\n_de novo_, so many had they bought off from fighting.  Forty\ncenturies of armed men, brave and despairing, and firing from windows,\nmust have made prodigious havoc: and this havoc the French evaded\nby a trick, by a perfidy, perhaps unexampled in the annals of\nmilitary men.\n\nII. _Piracy._-It is interesting to trace the revolutions of\nmoral feeling. In the early stages of history we find piracy in\nhigh esteem. Thucydides tells us that \u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1, or robbery,\nwhen conducted _at sea_, (_i. e._ robbery on non-Grecian\npeople,) was held in the greatest honor by his countrymen in elder\nages. And this, in fact, is the true station, this point of feeling\nfor primitive man, from which we ought to view the robberies and\nlarcenies of savages. Captain Cook, though a good and often a wise\nman, erred in this point. He took a plain Old Bailey view of the\ncase; and very sincerely believed, (as all sea-captains ever have\ndone,) that a savage must be a bad man, who would purloin anything\nthat was not his. Yet it is evident that the poor child of uncultured\nnature, who saw strangers descending, as it were from the moon,\nupon his aboriginal forests and lawns, must have viewed them under\nthe same angle as the Greeks of old. They were no part of any system\nto which he belonged; and why should he not plunder them? By force\nif he could: but, where that was out of the question, why should he\nnot take the same credit for an undetected theft that the Spartan\ngloried in taking? To be detected was both shame and loss; but he\nwas certainly entitled to any glory which might seem to settle upon\nsuccess, not at all less than the more pretending citizen of Sparta.\nBesides all which, amongst us civilized men the rule obtains\nuniversally--that the state and duties of peace are to be presumed\nuntil war is proclaimed. Whereas, amongst rude nations, war is\nunderstood to be the rule--war, open or covert, until suspended by\nexpress contract.  _Bellum inter omnes_ is the natural state\nof things for all, except those who view themselves as brothers\nby natural affinity, by local neighborhood, by common descent, or\nwho make themselves brothers by artificial contracts. Captain Cook,\nwho overlooked all this, should have begun by arranging a solemn\ntreaty with the savages amongst whom he meant to reside for any\nlength of time. This would have prevented many an angry broil then,\nand since then: it would also have prevented his own tragical fate.\nMeantime the savage is calumniated and misrepresented, for want of\nbeing understood.\n\nThere is, however, amongst civilized nations a mode of piracy still\ntolerated, or which _was_ tolerated in the last war, but is\nnow ripe for extinction. It is that war of private men upon private\nmen, which goes on under the name of privateering. Great changes\nhave taken place in our modes of thinking within the last twenty-five\nyears; and the greatest change of all lies in the thoughtful spirit\nwhich we now bring to the investigation of all public questions.\nWe have no doubt at all that, when next a war arises at sea, the\nwhole system of privateering will be condemned by the public voice.\nAnd the next step after that will be, to explode all war whatsoever,\npublic or private, upon commerce. War will be conducted _by_\nbelligerents and _upon_ belligerents exclusively. To imagine\nthe extinction of war itself, in the present stage of human advance,\nis, we fear, idle. Higher modes of civilization--an earth more\nuniversally colonized--the _homo sapiens_ of Linnaeus more\nhumanized, and other improvements must pave the way for _that_:\nbut amongst the earliest of those improvements, will be the abolition\nof war carried into quarters where the spirit of war never ought\nto penetrate.  Privateering will be abolished. War, on a national\nscale, is often ennobling, and one great instrument of pioneering\nfor civilization; but war of private citizen upon his fellow, in\nanother land, is always demoralizing.\n\nIII. _Usury._--This ancient subject of casuistry we place next\nto _piracy_, for a significant reason: the two practices have\nboth changed their public reputation as civilization has advanced,\nbut inversely--they have interchanged characters. Piracy, beginning\nin honor, has ended in infamy: and at this moment it happens to be\nthe sole offence against society in which _all_ the accomplices,\nwithout pity or intercession, let them be ever so numerous, are\npunished capitally. Elsewhere, we decimate, or even centesimate:\nhere, we are all children of Rhadamanthus. Usury, on the other hand,\nbeginning in utter infamy, has travelled upwards into considerable\nesteem; and Mr. '10 _per shent_' stands a very fair chance of\nbeing pricked for sheriff next year; and, in one generation more,\nof passing for a great patriot. Charles Lamb complained that, by\ngradual changes, not on his part, but in the spirit of refinement,\nhe found himself growing insensibly into 'an indecent character.'\nThe same changes which carry some downwards, carry others up; and\nShylock himself will soon be viewed as an eminent martyr or confessor\nfor the truth as it is in the Alley. Seriously, however, there is\nnothing more remarkable in the history of casuistical ethics, than\nthe utter revolution in human estimates of usury. In this one point\nthe Hebrew legislator agreed with the Roman--Deuteronomy with the\nTwelve Tables. Cicero mentions that the elder Cato being questioned\non various actions, and how he ranked them in his esteem, was\nat length asked, _Quid f\u0153nerari?_--how did he rank usury?\nHis indignant answer was, by a retorted question--_Quid hominem\noccidere?_--what do I think of murder? In this particular case,\nas in some others, we must allow that our worthy ancestors and\nforerunners upon this terraqueous planet were enormous blockheads.\nAnd their 'exquisite reason' for this opinion on usury, was quite\nworthy of Sir Andrew Aguecheek:--'money,' they argued, 'could not\nbreed money: one guinea was neither father nor mother to another\nguinea: and where could be the justice of making a man pay for the\nuse of a thing which that thing could never produce?' But, venerable\nblockheads, that argument applies to the case of him who locks up\nhis borrowed guinea. Suppose him _not_ to lock it up, but to\nbuy a hen, and the hen to lay a dozen eggs; one of those eggs will\nbe so much per cent.; and the thing borrowed has then produced\nits own _foenus_. A still greater inconsistency was this: Our\nancestors would have rejoined--that many people did not borrow in\norder to produce, _i. e._ to use the money as capital, but in\norder to spend, _i. e._ to use it as income. In that case, at\nleast, the borrowers must derive the _foenus_ from some other\nfund than the thing borrowed: for, by the supposition, the thing\nborrowed has been spent. True; but on the same principle these\nancestors ought to have forbidden every man to sell any article\nwhatsoever to him who paid for it out of other funds than those\nproduced by the article sold.  Mere logical consistency required\nthis: it happens, indeed, to be impossible: but that only argues\ntheir entire non-comprehension of their own doctrines.\n\nThe whole history of usury teems with instruction: 1st, comes the\nmonstrous absurdity in which the proscription of usury anchored;\n2d, the absolute compulsion and pressure of realities in forcing\nmen into a timid abandonment of their own doctrines; 3d, the\nunconquerable power of sympathy, which humbled all minds to one\nlevel, and forced the strongest no less than the feeblest intellects\ninto the same infatuation of stupidity. The casuistry of ancient\nmoralists on this question, especially of the scholastic moralists,\nsuch as Suarrez, &c.--the oscillations by which they ultimately\nrelaxed and tied up the law, just as their erring conscience, or\nthe necessities of social life prevailed, would compose one of the\ninteresting chapters in this science. But the Jewish relaxation\nis the most amusing: it coincides altogether with the theory of\nsavages as to property, which we have already noticed under the\nhead of Piracy. All men on earth, except Jews, were held to be\nfair subjects for usury; not as though usury were a just or humane\nthing: no--it was a belligerent act: but then all foreigners in the\nJewish eye were enemies for the same reason that the elder Romans\nhad a common term for an enemy and a stranger. And it is probable that\nmany Jews at this day, in exercising usury, conceive themselves to\nbe seriously making war, in a privateering fashion, upon Christendom,\nand practising reprisals on the Gentiles for ruined Jerusalem.\n\nIV. _Bishop Gibson's Chronicon Preciosum_.--Many people are\naware that this book is a record of prices, as far as they were\nrecoverable, pursued through six centuries of English History. But\nthey are not aware that this whole inquiry is simply the machinery\nfor determining a casuistical question. The question was this:--An\nEnglish College, but we cannot say in which of our universities,\nhad been founded in the reign of Henry VI., and between 1440 and\n1460--probably it might be King's College, Cambridge. Now, the\nstatutes of this college make it imperative upon every candidate\nfor a fellowship to swear that he does not possess an estate in\nland of inheritance, nor a perpetual pension amounting to _five\npounds per annum_, It is certain, however, that the founder did\nnot mean superstitiously so much gold or silver as made _nominally_\nthe sum of five pounds, but so much as virtually represented the\nfive pounds of Henry VI.'s time--so much as would buy the same\nquantity of ordinary comfort.  Upon this, therefore, arose two\nquestions for the casuist: (1.) What sum did substantially represent,\nin 1706, (the year of publishing the _Chron. Preciosum_,) that\nnominal \u00a35 of 1440? (2.) Supposing this ascertained, might a man\nwith safe conscience retain his fellowship by swearing that he had\nnot \u00a35 a-year, when perhaps he had \u00a320, provided that \u00a320 were\nproved to be less in efficacy than the \u00a35 of the elder period?\nVerbally this was perjury: was it such in reality and to the\nconscience?\n\nThe _Chronicle_ is not, as by its title the reader might\nsuppose, a large folio: on the contrary, it is a small octavo of\nless than 200 pages. But it is exceedingly interesting, very ably\nreasoned, and as circumstantial in its illustrations as the good\nbishop's opportunities allowed him to make it. In one thing he\nwas more liberal than Sir William Petty, Dr. Davenant, &c., or any\nelder economists of the preceding century; he would have statistics\ntreated as a classical or scholar-like study; and he shows a most\nlaudable curiosity in all the questions arising out of his main\none. His answer to _that_ is as follows: 1st, that \u00a35 in\nHenry VI.'s time contained forty ounces of silver, whereas in Queen\nAnne's it contained only nineteen ounces and one-third; so that, in\nreality, the \u00a35 of 1440, was, even as to weight of silver, rather\nmore than \u00a310 of 1706. 2d, as to the efficacy of \u00a310 in Henry\nVI.'s reign: upon reviewing the main items of common household\n(and therefore of common academic) expenditure, and pursuing this\nreview through bad years and good years, the bishop decides that it\nis about equal to \u00a325 or \u00a330 of Queen Anne's reign. Sir George\nShuckburgh has since treated this casuistical problem more elaborately:\nbut Bishop Gibson it was, who, in his _Chronicon Preciosum_,\nfirst broke the ice.\n\nAfter this, he adds an ingenious question upon the apparently\nparallel case of a freeholder swearing himself worth 40s. per annum\nas a qualification for an electoral vote: ought not he to hold\nhimself perjured in voting upon an estate often so much below the\noriginal 40s. contemplated by Parliament, for the very same reason\nthat a collegian is _not_ perjured in holding a fellowship,\nwhilst, in fact, he may have four or five times the nominal\nsum privileged by the founder?  The bishop says _no_; and\nhe distinguishes the case thus: the college \u00a35 must always mean\na virtual \u00a35--a \u00a35 in efficacy, and not merely in name. But\nthe freeholder's 40s. is not so restricted; and for the following\nreason--that this sum is constantly coming under the review of\nParliament.  It is clear, therefore, from the fact of not having\naltered it, that Parliament is satisfied with a merely nominal\n40s., and sees no reason to alter it. True, it was a rule enacted\nby the Parliament of 1430; at which time 40s. was even in weight of\nsilver equal to 80s. of 1706; and in virtue or power of purchasing\nequal to \u00a312 at the least.  The qualification of a freeholder is,\ntherefore, much lower in Queen Anne's days than in those of Henry\nVI. But what of that? Parliament, it must be presumed, sees good\nreason why it _should_ be lower. And at all events, till the\nlaw operates amiss, there can be no reason to alter it.\n\nA case of the same kind with those argued by Bishop Gibson arose\noften in trials for larceny--we mean as to that enactment which\nfixed the minimum for a capital offence. This case is noticed by\nthe bishop, and juries of late years often took the casuistry into\ntheir own hands. They were generally thought to act with no more\nthan a proper humanity to the prisoner; but still people thought\nsuch juries incorrect. Whereas, if Bishop Gibson is right, who\nallows a man to swear positively that he has not \u00a35 a-year, when\nnominally he has much more, such juries were even technically right.\nHowever, this point is now altered by Sir Robert Peel's reforms.\nBut there are other cases, and especially those which arise not\nbetween different times but between different places, which will\noften require the same kind of casuistry as that which is so ably\napplied by the good and learned bishop.\n\nV. _Suicide_.--It seems passing strange that the main argument\nupon which Pagan moralists relied in their unconditional condemnation\nof suicide, viz. the supposed analogy of our situation in life to\nthat of a sentinel mounting guard, who cannot, without a capital\noffence, quit his station until called off by his commanding\nofficer, is dismissed with contempt by a Christian moralist, viz.\nPaley. But a stranger thing still is--that the only man who ever\nwrote a book in palliation of suicide, should have been not only\na Christian--not only an official minister and dignitary of a\nmetropolitan Christian church--but also a scrupulously pious man.\nWe allude, as the reader will suppose, to Dr. Donne, Dean of St.\nPaul's. His opinion is worthy of consideration. Not that we would\nwillingly diminish, by one hair's weight, the reasons against suicide;\nbut it is never well to rely upon ignorance or inconsideration\nfor the defence of any principle whatever. Donne's notion was, (a\nnotion, however, adopted in his earlier years,) that as we do not\ninstantly pronounce a man a murderer upon hearing that he has killed\na fellow-creature, but, according to the circumstances of the case,\npronounce his act either murder, or manslaughter, or justifiable\nhomicide; so by parity of reason, suicide is open to distinctions\nof the same or corresponding kinds; that there may be such a thing\nas self-homicide not less than self-murder--culpable self-homicide\n--justifiable self-homicide. Donne called his Essay by the Greek\nname _Biathanatos,_[Footnote: This word, however, which occurs\nnowhere that we remember, except in Lampridius, one of the Augustan\nhistorians, is here applied to Heliogabalus; and means, not the\nact of suicide, but a suicidal person. And possibly Donne, who was\na good scholar, may so mean it to be understood in his title-page.\nHeliogabalus, says Lampridius, had been told by the Syrian priests\nthat he should be _Biathanatos_, _i. e._ should commit suicide. He\nprovided, therefore, ropes of purple and of gold intertwisted, that\nhe might hang himself imperatorially. He provided golden swords,\nthat he might run himself through as became Caesar. He had poisons\ninclosed in jewels, that he might drink his farewell heeltaps, if\ndrink he must, in a princely style. Other modes of august death he\nhad prepared. Unfortunately all were unavailing, for he was murdered\nand dragged through the common sewers by ropes, without either\npurple or gold in their base composition. The poor fellow has been\nsadly abused in history; but, after all, he was a mere boy, and as\nmad as a March hare.] meaning _violent death._ But a thing equally\nstrange and a blasphemy almost unaccountable, is the fancy of a\nPrussian or Saxon baron, who wrote a book to prove that Christ\ncommitted suicide, for which he had no other argument than that,\nin fact, he had surrendered himself unresistingly into the hands\nof his enemies, and had in a manner caused his own death.\nThis, however, describes the case of every martyr that ever was\nor can be. It is the very merit and grandeur of the martyr, that\nhe proclaims the truth with his eyes open to the consequences of\nproclaiming it. Those consequences are connected with the truth, but\nnot by a natural link: the connection is by means of false views,\nwhich it is the very business of the martyr to destroy. And, if a\nman founds my death upon an act which my conscience enjoys, even\nthough I am aware and fully warned that he will found my death upon\nit, I am not, therefore, guilty of suicide. For, by the supposition,\nI was obliged to the act in question by the highest of all obligations,\nviz. moral obligation, which far transcends all physical obligation;\nso that, whatever excuse attaches to a physical necessity, attaches,\n_a fortiori_, to the moral necessity. The case is, therefore,\nprecisely the same as if he had said,--'I will put you to death if\nthe frost benumbs your feet.' The answer is--'I cannot help this\neffect of frost.' Far less can I help revealing a celestial truth.\nI have no power, no liberty, to forbear. And, in killing me, he\npunishes me for a mere necessity of my situation and my knowledge.\n\nIt is urged that brutes never commit suicide--except, indeed, the\nsalamander, who has been suspected of loose principles in this\npoint; and we ourselves know a man who constantly affirmed that a\nhorse of his had committed suicide, by violently throwing himself\nfrom the summit of a precipice. 'But why,'--as we still asked him--'why\nshould the horse have committed felony on himself? Were oats rising\nin the market?--or was he in love?--or vexed by politics?--or could\na horse, and a young one rising four, be supposed to suffer from\n_taedium vitae_?' Meantime, as respects the general question\nof brute suicides, two points must be regarded,--1st, That brutes\nare cut off from the vast world of moral and imaginative sufferings\nentailed upon man; 2dly, That this very immunity presupposes another\nimmunity--\n\n\n'A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain,'\n\n\nin the far coarser and less irritable animal organization which\nmust be the basis of an insulated physical sensibility.  Brutes\ncan neither suffer from intellectual passions, nor, probably, from\nvery complex derangements of the animal system; so that in them the\nmotives to suicide, the temptations to suicide, are prodigiously\ndiminished. Nor are they ever alive to 'the sublime attractions\nof the grave.' It is, however, a humiliating reflection, that, if\nany brutes can feel such aspirations, it must be those which are\nunder the care of man. Doubtless the happiness of brutes is sometimes\nextended by man; but also, too palpably, their misery.\n\nWhy suicide is not noticed in the _New Testament_ is a problem\nyet open to the profound investigator.\n\nVI. _Duelling_.--No one case, in the vast volume of casuistry,\nis so difficult to treat with justice and reasonable adaptation to\nthe spirit of modern times, as this of duelling. For, as to those\nwho reason all upon one side, and never hearken in good faith to\nobjections or difficulties, such people convince nobody but those\nwho were already convinced before they began. At present, (1839,)\nsociety has for some years been taking a lurch to one side\n_against_ duelling: but inevitably a reaction will succeed;\nfor, after all, be it as much opposed as it may to Christianity,\nduelling performs such important functions in society as now\nconstituted--we mean by the sense of instant personal accountability\nwhich it diffuses universally amongst gentlemen, and all who have\nmuch sensibility to the point of honor--that, for one life which\nit takes away as an occasional sacrifice, it saves myriads from\noutrage and affronts--millions from the anxiety attached to inferior\nbodily strength. However, it is no part of our present purpose\nto plead the cause of duelling, though pleaded it must be, more\nfairly than it ever has been, before any progress will be made in\nsuppressing it.\n\nBut the point which we wish to notice at present, is the universal\nblunder about the Romans and Greeks.  They, it is alleged, fought\nno duels; and occasion is thence taken to make very disadvantageous\nreflections upon us, the men of this Christian era, who, in defiance\nof our greater light, _do_ fight duels. Lord Bacon himself is\nduped by this enormous blunder, and founds upon it a long speech\nin the Star-Chamber.\n\nNow, in the first place, who does not see that, if the Pagans really\n_were_ enabled by their religion to master their movements of\npersonal anger and hatred, the inevitable inference will be to the\ndisadvantage of Christianity.  It would be a clear case. Christianity\nand Paganism have been separately tried as means of self-control;\nChristianity has flagrantly failed; Paganism succeeded universally;\nnot having been found unequal to the task in any one known instance.\n\nBut this is not so. A profounder error never existed. No religious\ninfluence whatever restrained the Greek or the Roman from fighting\na duel. It was purely a civic influence, and it was sustained\nby this remarkable usage--in itself a standing opprobrium to both\nGreek and Roman--viz. the unlimited license of tongue allowed to\nanger in the ancient assemblies and senates. This liberty of foul\nlanguage operated in two ways: 1st, Being universal, it took away\nall ground for feeling the words of an antagonist as any personal\ninsult; so he had rarely a motive for a duel. 2dly, the anger was\nthus less acute; yet, if it _were_ acute, then this Billingsgate\nresource furnished an instantaneous vehicle for expectorating the\nwrath. Look, for example, at Cicero's orations against Mark Antony,\nor Catiline, or against Piso. This last person was a senator of\nthe very highest rank, family, connections; yet, in the course of a\nfew pages, does Cicero, a man of letters, polished to the extreme\nstandard of Rome, address him by the elegant appellations of 'filth,'\n'mud,' 'carrion,' (_projectum cadaver_.) How could Piso have\ncomplained? It would have been said-'Oh, there's an end of republican\nsimplicity, if plain speaking is to be put down.' And then it would\nhave been added invidiously--'Better men than ever stood in your\nshoes have borne worse language. Will you complain of what was\ntolerated by Africanus, by Paulus Aemilius, by Marius, by Sylla?'\nWho could reply to that?  And why should Piso have even wished to\n_call out_ his foul-mouthed antagonist? On the contrary, a far\nmore genial revenge awaited him than any sword could have furnished.\nPass but an hour, and you will hear Piso speaking--it will then be\nhis turn--every dog has his day; and, though not quite so eloquent\nas his brilliant enemy, he is yet eloquent enough for the purposes\nof revenge--he is eloquent enough to call Cicero 'filth,' 'mud,'\ncarrion.'\n\nNo: the reason of our modern duelling lies deeper than is supposed:\nit lies in the principle of _honor_--a direct product of\nchivalry--as that was in part a product of Christianity. The sense\nof honor did not exist in Pagan times. Natural equity, and the\nequity of civil laws--those were the two moral forces under which\nmen acted. Honor applies to cases where both those forces are\nsilent. And precisely because they had no such sense, and because\ntheir revenge emptied itself by the basest of all channels, viz.\nfoul speaking and license of tongue, was it that the Greeks and\nRomans had no duelling. It was no glory to them that they had not,\nbut the foulest blot on their moral grandeur.\n\nHow it was that Christianity was able, mediately, to generate the\nprinciple of honor, is a separate problem.  But this is the true\nsolution of that common casuistical question about duelling.\n\n\n\nPART II.\n\n--'Celebrare domestlca facta.'--HOR.\n\n\nIn a former notice of Casuistry, we touched on such cases only\nas were of public bearings, or such as (if private) were of rare\noccurrence and of a tragical standard. But ordinary life, in its\nmost domestic paths, teems with cases of difficult decision; or if\nnot always difficult in the decision of the abstract question at\nissue, difficult in the accommodation of that decision to immediate\npractice. A few of these more homely cases, intermixed with more\npublic ones, we shall here select and review; for, according to a\nremark in our first paper, as social economy grows more elaborate,\nthe demand grows more intense for such circumstantial morality. As\nman advances, casuistry advances.  Principles are the same: but the\nabstraction of principles from accidents and circumstances becomes\na work of more effort. Aristotle, in his _Nicomachean Ethics_,\nhas not one case; Cicero, three hundred years after, has a few;\nPaley, eighteen hundred years after Cicero, has many.\n\nThere is also something in place as well as in time--in the people\nas well as the century--which determines the amount of interest\nin casuistry. We once heard an eminent person delivering it as an\nopinion, derived from a good deal of personal experience--_that\nof all European nations, the British was that which suffered most\nfrom remorse_; and that, if internal struggles during temptation,\nor sufferings of mind after yielding to temptation, were of a nature\nto be measured upon a scale, or could express themselves sensibly\nto human knowledge, the annual report from Great Britain, its annual\nbalance-sheet, by comparison with those from continental Europe,\nwould show a large excess. At the time of hearing this remarkable\nopinion, we, the hearers, were young; and we had little other ground\nfor assent or dissent, than such general impressions of national\ndifferences as we might happen to have gathered from the several\nliteratures of Christian nations. These were of a nature to confirm\nthe stranger's verdict; and it will not be denied that much of\nnational character comes forward in literature: but these were not\nsufficient. Since then, we have had occasion to think closely on\nthat question. We have had occasion to review the public records\nof Christendom; and beyond all doubt the public conscience, the\ninternational conscience, of a people, is the reverberation of its\nprivate conscience. History is but the converging into a focus of\nwhat is moving in the domestic life below; a set of great circles\nexpressing and summing up, on the dial-plate, the motions of many\nlittle circles in the machinery within. Now History, what may be\ncalled the Comparative History of Modern Europe, countersigns the\ntraveller's opinion.\n\n'So, then,' says a foreigner, or an Englishman with foreign sympathies,\n'the upshot and amount of this doctrine is, that England is more\nmoral than other nations.' 'Well,' we answer, 'and what of that?'\nObserve, however, that the doctrine went no farther than as to\nconscientiousness; the principle out of which comes sorrow for all\nviolation of duty; out of which comes a high standard of duty.\nMeantime both the 'sorrow' and the 'high standard' are very compatible\nwith a lax performance. But suppose we _had_ gone as far as\nthe objector supposes, and had ascribed a moral superiority every\nway to England, what is there in _that_ to shock probability?\nWhether the general probability from analogy, or the special\nprobability from the circumstances of this particular case? We\nall know that there is no general improbability in supposing one\nnation, or one race, to outrun another. The modern Italians have\nexcelled all nations in musical sensibility, and in genius for\npainting. They have produced far better music than all the rest of\nthe world put together. And four of their great painters have not\nbeen approached hitherto by the painters of _any_ nation. That\nfacial structure, again, which is called the Caucasian, and which,\nthrough the ancient Greeks, has travelled westward to the nations\nof Christendom, and from them (chiefly ourselves) has become the\nTransatlantic face, is, past all disputing, the finest type of the\nhuman countenance divine on this planet. And most other nations,\nAsiatic or African, have hitherto put up with this insult; except,\nindeed, the Kalmuck Tartars, who are highly indignant at our European\nvanity in this matter; and some of them, says Bergmann, the German\ntraveller, absolutely howl with rage, whilst others only laugh\nhysterically, at any man's having the insanity to prefer the Grecian\nfeatures to the Kalmuck.  Again, amongst the old pagan nations,\nthe Romans seem to have had 'the call' for going ahead; and they\nfulfilled their destiny in spite of all that the rest of the world\ncould do to prevent them. So that, far from it being an improbable\nor unreasonable assumption, superiority (of one kind or other) has\nbeen the indefeasible inheritance of this and that nation, at all\nperiods of history.\n\nStill less is the notion tenable of any special improbability\napplying to this particular pretension. For centuries has England\nenjoyed--1st, civil liberty; 2d, the Protestant faith. Now in those\ntwo advantages are laid the grounds, the very necessities, _a\npriori_, of a superior morality. But watch the inconsistency\nof men: ask one of these men who dispute this English pretension\n_mordicus_; ask him, or bid an Austrian serf ask him, what are\nthe benefits of Protestantism, and what the benefits of liberty,\nthat he should risk anything to obtain either. Hear how eloquently\nhe insists upon their beneficial results, severally and jointly;\nand notice that he places foremost among those results a pure\nmorality. Is he wrong? No: the man speaks bare truth. But what brute\noblivion he manifests of his own doctrine, in taxing with arrogance\nany people for claiming one of those results _in esse_, which\nhe himself could see so clearly _in posse!_ Talk no more of\nfreedom, or of a pure religion, as fountains of a moral pre-eminence,\nif those who have possessed them in combination for the longest\nspace of time may not, without arrogance, claim the vanward place\namongst the nations of Europe.\n\nSo far as to the presumptions, general or special; so far as to the\nprobabilities, analogous or direct, in countenance of this British\nclaim. Finally, when we come to the proofs, from fact and historical\nexperience, we might appeal to a singular case in the records of\nour Exchequer; viz., that for much more than a century back, our\n_Gazette_ and other public advertisers, have acknowledged\na series of anonymous remittances from those who, at some time\nor other, had appropriated public money. We understand that no\ncorresponding fact can be cited from foreign records. Now, this is\na direct instance of that compunction which our travelled friend\ninsisted on. But we choose rather to throw ourselves upon the general\nhistory of Great Britain, upon the spirit of her policy, domestic\nor foreign, and upon the universal principles of her public morality.\nTake the case of public debts, and the fulfilment of contracts to\nthose who could not have compelled the fulfilment; we first set\nthis precedent.  All nations have now learned that honesty in such\ncases is eventually the best policy; but this they learned from our\nexperience, and not till nearly all of them had tried the other\npolicy. We it was, who, under the most trying circumstances of war,\nmaintained the sanctity from taxation of all foreign investments in\nour funds. Our conduct with regard to slaves, whether in the case\nof slavery or of the slave-trade--how prudent it may always have\nbeen, we need not inquire; as to its moral principles, they went so\nfar ahead of European standards, that we were neither comprehended\nnor believed. The perfection of romance was ascribed to us by all\nwho did not reproach us with the perfection of Jesuitical knavery;\nby many our motto was supposed to be no longer the old one\nof '_divide et impera_,' but '_annihila et appropria_.'\nFinally, looking back to our dreadful conflicts with the three\nconquering despots of modern history, Philip II. of Spain, Louis\nXIV., and Napoleon, we may incontestably boast of having been\nsingle in maintaining the general equities of Europe by war upon\na colossal scale, and by our councils in the general congresses of\nChristendom.\n\nSuch a review would amply justify the traveller's remarkable _dictum_\nupon the principle of remorse, and therefore of conscientiousness,\nas existing in greater strength amongst the people of Great Britain.\nIn the same proportion we may assume, in such a people, a keener\nsensibility to moral distinctions; more attention to shades of\ndifference in the modes of action; more anxiety as to the grounds\nof action. In the same proportion we may assume a growing and more\ndirect regard to casuistry; which is precisely the part of ethics\nthat will be continually expanding, and continually throwing up\nfresh doubts. Not as though a moral principle could ever be doubtful.\nBut that the growing complexity of the circumstances will make it\nmore and more difficult in judgment to detach the principle from\nthe case; or, in practice, to determine the application of the\nprinciple to the facts. It will happen, therefore, as Mr. Coleridge\nused to say happened in all cases of importance, that extremes\nmeet: for casuistical ethics will be most consulted by two classes\nthe most opposite to each other--by those who seek excuses for\nevading their duties, and by those who seek a special fulness of\nlight for fulfilling them.\n\n\n\nCASE I.\n\nHEALTH.\n\n\nStrange it is, that moral treatises, when professing to lay open the\ngreat edifice of human duties, and to expose its very foundations,\nshould not have begun with, nay, should not have noticed at all,\nthose duties which a man owes to himself, and, foremost amongst\nthem, the duty of cultivating his own health. For it is evident,\nthat, from mere neglect of that one personal duty, with the very\nbest intentions possible, all other duties whatever may become\nimpossible; for good intentions exist in all stages of efficiency,\nfrom the fugitive impulse to the realizing self-determination.  In\nthis life, the elementary blessing is health. What!  do we presume\nto place it before peace of mind?  Far from it; but we speak of the\n_genesis_; of the succession in which all blessings descend;\nnot as to time, but the order of dependency. All morality implies\nfree agency: it presumes beyond all other conditions an agent who\nis in perfect possession of his own volitions.  Now, it is certain\nthat a man without health is not uniformly master of his own\npurposes. Often he cannot be said either to be _in_ the path\nof duty or _out_ of it; so incoherent are the actions of a\nman forced back continually from the objects of his intellect and\nchoice upon some alien objects dictated by internal wretchedness.\nIt is true that, by possibility, some derangements of the human\nsystem are not incompatible with happiness: and a celebrated German\nauthor of the last century, Von Hardenberg--better known by his\nassumed name of Novalis--maintained, that certain modes of ill\nhealth, or valetudinarianism, were pre-requisites towards certain\nmodes of intellectual development. But the ill health to which he\npointed could not have gone beyond a luxurious indisposition; nor\nthe corresponding intellectual purposes have been other than narrow,\nfleeting, and anomalous.  Inflammatory action, in its earlier\nstages, is sometimes connected with voluptuous sensations: so is\nthe preternatural stimulation of the liver. But these states, as\npleasurable states, are transitory. All fixed derangements of the\nhealth are doubly hostile to the moral energies: first, through\nthe intellect, which they debilitate unconsciously in many ways;\nand next, both consciously and semi-consciously, through the will.\nThe judgment is, perhaps, too clouded to fix upon a right purpose:\nthe will too enfeebled to pursue it.\n\nTwo general remarks may be applied to all, interferences of\nthe physical with the moral sanity; 1st, That it is not so much\nby absolute deductions of time that ill health operates upon the\nserviceableness of a man, as by its lingering effects upon his\ntemper and his animal spirits. Many a man has not lost one hour\nof his life from illness, whose faculties of usefulness have been\nmost seriously impaired through gloom, or untuned feelings; 3d,\nThat it is not the direct and known risks to our health which act\nwith the most fatal effects, but the semi-conscious condition, the\natmosphere of circumstances, with which artificial life surrounds\nus. The great cities of Europe, perhaps London beyond all others,\nunder the modern modes of life and business, create a vortex of\npreternatural tumult, a rush and frenzy of excitement, which is fatal\nto far more than are heard of as express victims to that system.\n\nThe late Lord Londonderry's nervous seizure was no solitary or rare\ncase. So much we happen to know.  We are well assured by medical\nmen of great London practice, that the case is one of growing\nfrequency. In Lord Londonderry it attracted notice for reasons of\nobvious personal interest, as well as its tragical catastrophe.\nBut the complaint, though one of modern growth, is well known, and\ncomes forward under a most determinate type as to symptoms, among\nthe mercantile class. The original predisposition to it, lies\npermanently in the condition of London life, especially as it exists\nfor public men. But the immediate existing cause, which fires the\ntrain always ready for explosion, is invariably some combination of\nperplexities, such as are continually gathering into dark clouds\nover the heads of great merchants; sometimes only teasing and\nmolesting, sometimes menacing and alarming. These perplexities are\ngenerally moving in counteracting paths: some progressive, some\nretrograde. There lies a man's safety. But at times it will happen\nthat all comes at once; and then comes a shock such as no brain\nalready predisposed by a London life, is strong enough (but more\ntruly let us say--coarse enough) to support.\n\nLord Londonderry's case was precisely of that order: he had been\nworried by a long session of Parliament, which adds the crowning\nirritation in the interruption of sleep. The nervous system,\nploughed up by intense wear and tear, is denied the last resource\nof natural relief. In this crisis, already perilous, a new tempest\nwas called in--of all the most terrific--the tempest of anxiety:\nand from what source? Anxiety from fear, is bad: from hope delayed,\nis bad: but worst of all is anxiety from responsibility, in cases\nwhere disease or weakness makes a man feel that he is unequal to the\nburden. The diplomatic interests of the country had been repeatedly\nconfided to Lord Londonderry: he had justified that confidence:\nhe had received affecting testimonies of the honor which belonged\nto such a situation. But a short time before his fatal seizure, in\npassing through Birmingham at a moment when all the gentlemen of\nthe place were assembled, he had witnessed the whole assembly--no\nmob, but the collective good sense of the place--by one impulse\nstanding bareheaded in his presence,--a tribute of disinterested\nhomage which affected him powerfully, and which was well understood\nas offered to his foreign diplomacy. Under these circumstances could\nhe bear to transfer or delegate the business of future negotiation?\nCould he suffer to lapse into other hands, as a derelict, the\nconsummation of that task which thus far he had so prosperously\nconducted?  Was it in human nature to do so? He felt the same\nhectic of human passion which Lord Nelson felt in the very gates\nof death, when some act of command was thoughtlessly suggested as\nbelonging to his successor--'Not whilst I live, Hardy; not whilst\nI live.' Yet, in Lord Londonderry's case, it was necessary, if\nhe would not transfer the trust, that he should rally his enegies\ninstantly: for a new Congress was even then assembling.  There\nwas no delay open to him by the nature of the case: the call was\n--_now, now,_ just as you are, my lord, with those shattered\nnerves and that agitated brain, take charge of interests the\nmost complex in Christendom: to say the truth, of interests which\n_are_ those of Christendom.\n\nThis struggle, between a nervous systm too grievously shaken, and the\ninstant demand for energy seven times intensified, was too much for\nany generous nature. A ceremonial embassy might have been fulfilled\nby shattered nerves; but not this embassy. Anxiety supervening upon\nnervous derangement was bad; anxiety through responsibility was\nworse; but through a responsibility created by grateful confidence,\nit was an appeal through the very pangs of martyrdom. No brain could\nstand such a siege. Lord Londonderry's gave way; and he fell with\nthe tears of the generous, even where they might happen to differ\nfrom him in politics.\n\nMeantime, this case, belonging to a class generated by a London\nlife, was in some quarters well understood even then; _now_,\nit is well known that, had different remedies been applied, or\nhad the sufferer been able to stand up under his torture until the\ncycle of the symptoms had begun to come round, he might have been\nsaved. The treatment is now well understood; but even then it was\nunderstood by some physicians; amongst others by that Dr. Willis\nwho had attended George III. In several similar cases overpowering\ndoses had been given of opium, or of brandy; and usually a day or\ntwo had carried off the oppression of the brain by a tremendous\nreaction.\n\nIn Birmingham and other towns, where the body of people called\nQuakers are accumulated, different forms of nervous derangement\nare developed; the secret principle of which turns not, as in these\nLondon cases, upon feelings too much called out by preternatural\nstimulation, but upon feelings too much repelled and driven in.\nMorbid suppression of deep sensibilities must lead to states of\ndisease equally terrific and perhaps even less tractable; not so\nsudden and critical perhaps, but more settled and gloomy. We speak\nnot of any physical sensibilities, but of those which are purely\nmoral--sensibilities to poetic emotions, to ambition, to social\ngaiety. Accordingly it is amongst the young men and women of this\nbody that the most afflicting cases under this type occur. Even\nfor children, however, the systematic repression of all ebullient\nfeeling, under the Quaker discipline, must be sometimes perilous;\nand would be more so, were it not for that marvellous flexibility\nwith which nature adapts herself to all changes--whether imposed by\nclimate or by situation--by inflictions of Providence or by human\nspirit of system.\n\nThese cases we point to as formidable mementos, _monumenta\nsacra,_ of those sudden catastrophes which either ignorance of\nwhat concerns the health, or neglect in midst of knowledge, may\nproduce. Any mode of life in London, or not in London, which trains\nthe nerves to a state of permanent irritation, prepares a _nidus_\nfor disease; and unhappily not for chronic disease only, but for\ndisease of that kind which finishes the struggle almost before it\nis begun. In such a state of habitual training for morbid action,\nit may happen--and often has happened--that one and the same week\nsees the victim apparently well and in his grave.\n\nThese, indeed, are extreme cases: though still such as threaten\nmany more than they actually strike; for, though uncommon, they grow\nout of very common habits. But even the ordinary cases of unhealthy\naction in the system, are sufficient to account for perhaps\nthree-fourths of all the disquiet and bad temper which disfigure\ndaily life. Not one man in every ten is perfectly clear of some\ndisorder, more or less, in the digestive system--not one man in fifty\nenjoys the absolutely normal state of that organ; and upon that\ndepends the daily cheerfulness, in the first place, and through that\n(as well as by more direct actions) the sanity of the judgment. To\nspeak strictly, not one man in a hundred is perfectly sane even as\nto his mind. For, though the greater disturbances of the mind do\nnot take place in more than one man of each thousand,[Footnote: in\nseveral nations that has been found to be the average proportion\nof the insane. But this calculation has never been made to include\nall the slighter cases.  It is not impossible that at some periods\nthe whole human race may have been partially insane.] the slighter\nshades that settle on the judgment, which daily bring up thoughts\nsuch as a man would gladly banish, which force him into moods\nof feeling irritating at the moment, and wearing to the animal\nspirits,--these derangements are universal.\n\nFrom the greater alike and the lesser, no man can free himself but\nin the proportion of his available knowledge applied to his own\nanimal system, and of the surrounding circumstances, as constantly\nacting on that system. Would we, then, desire that every man should\ninterrupt his proper studies or pursuits for the sake of studying\nmedicine? Not at all: nor is that requisite. The laws of health are\nas simple as the elements of arithmetic or geometry. It is required\nonly that a man should open his eyes to perceive the three great\nforces which support health.\n\nThey are these: 1. The _blood_ requires exercise: 2. The great\ncentral organ of the _stomach_ requires adaptation of diet:\n3. The _nervous system_ requires regularity of sleep. In those\nthree functions of sleep, diet, exercise, is contained the whole\neconomy of health. All three of course act and react upon each\nother: and all three are wofully deranged by a London life--above\nall, by a parliamentary life. As to the first point, it is probable\nthat any torpor, or even _lentor_ in the blood, such as\nscarcely expresses itself sensibly through the pulse, renders that\nfluid less able to resist the first actions of disease. As to the\nsecond, a more complex subject, luckily we benefit not by our own\nbrief experience exclusively; every man benefits practically by\nthe traditional experience of ages, which constitutes the culinary\nexperience in every land and every household. The inheritance of\nknowledge, which every generation receives, as to the salubrity of\nthis or that article of diet, operates continually in preventing\ndishes from being brought to table. Each man's separate experience\ndoes something to arm him against the temptation when it is offered;\nand again, the traditional experience far oftener intercepts the\ntemptation. As to the third head, _sleep_, this of all is the\nmost immediately fitted by nature to the relief of the brain and\nits exquisite machinery of nerves:--it is the function of health\nmost attended to in our navy; and of all it is the one most painfully\nravaged by a London life.\n\nThus it would appear, that the three great laws of health, viz.,\n_motion_, _rest_, and _temperance_, (by a more adequate expression,\n_adaptation to the organ_,) are, in a certain gross way, taught to\nevery man by his personal experience. The difficulty is--as in so\nmany other cases--not for the understanding, but for the will--not\nto know, but to execute.\n\nNow here steps in Casuistry with two tremendous suggestions, sufficient\nto alarm any thoughtful man, and rouse him more effectually to the\nperformance of his duty.\n\nFirst, that under the same law (whatever that law may be) which\nmakes suicide a crime, must the neglect of health be a crime? For\nthus stand the two accounts:--By suicide you have cut off a _portion\nunknown_ from your life: years it may be, but possibly only\ndays. By neglect of health you have cut off a _portion unknown_\nfrom your life: days it may be, but also by possibility years. So\nthe practical result may be the same in either case; or, possibly,\nthe least is suicide. 'Yes,' you reply, 'the _practical_\nresults--but not the purpose--not the intention--_ergo_, not\nthe crime.' Certainly not: in the one case the result arises from\nabsolute predetermination, with the whole energies of the will;\nin the other it arises _in spite_ of your will, (meaning your\nchoice)--it arises out of human infirmity. But still the difference\nis as between choosing a crime for its own sake, and falling into\nit from strong temptation.\n\nSecondly, that in every case of duty unfulfilled, or duty imperfectly\nfulfilled, in consequence of illness, languor, decaying spirits,\n&c., there is a high probability (under the age of sixty-five almost\na certainty) that a part of the obstacle is due to self-neglect.\nNo man that lives but loses some of his time from ill health,\nor at least from the incipient forms of ill health--bad spirits,\nor indisposition to exertion. Now, taking men even as they are,\nstatistical societies have ascertained that, from the ages of\ntwenty to sixty-five, ill health, such as to interrupt daily labor,\naverages from seven days to about fourteen per annum. In the best\ncircumstances of climate, occupation, &c., one fifty-second part\nof the time perishes to the species--in the least favorable, two\nsuch parts. Consequently, in the forty-five years from twenty to\nsixty-five, not very far from a year perishes on an average to every\nman--to some as much more. A considerable part even of this loss\nis due to neglect or mismanagement of health.  But this estimate\nrecords only the loss of time in a pecuniary sense; which loss,\nbeing powerfully restrained by self-interest, will be the least\npossible under the circumstances.  The loss of energy, as applied\nto duties not connected with any self-interest, will be far more.\nIn so far as that loss emanates from defect of spirits, or other\nmodes of vital torpor, such as neglect of health has either caused\nor promoted, and care might have prevented, in so far the omission is\ncharged to our own responsibility. Many men fancy that the slight\ninjuries done by each single act of intemperance, are like the\nglomeration of moonbeams upon moonbeams--myriads will not amount to\na positive value. Perhaps they are wrong; possibly every act--nay,\nevery separate pulse or throb of intemperate sensation--is numbered\nin our own after actions; reproduces itself in some future perplexity;\ncomes back in some reversionary shape that injures the freedom of\naction for all men, and makes good men afflicted. At all events,\nit is an undeniable fact, that many a case of difficulty, which in\napology for ourselves we very truly plead to be insurmountable by\nour existing energies, has borrowed its sting from previous acts or\nomissions of our own; it might _not_ have been insurmountable,\nhad we better cherished our physical resources. For instance, of\nsuch a man it is said--he did not assist in repelling an injury\nfrom his friend or his native land. 'True,' says his apologist, 'but\nyou would not require him to do so when he labors under paralysis?'\n'No, certainly; but, perhaps, he might _not_ have labored under\nparalysis had he uniformly taken care of his health.'[Footnote:\nWith respect to the management of health, although it is undoubtedly\ntrue that like the 'primal charities,' in the language of Wordsworth,\nin proportion to its importance it shines alike for all, and is\ndiffused universally--yet not the less, in every age, some very\nobstinate prejudices have prevailed to darken the truth. Thus\nDryden authorizes the conceit, that medicine can never be useful\nor requisite, because--\n\n\n  'God never made his work for man to mend.'\n\n\nTo mend! No, glorious John, neither physician nor patient has any\nsuch presumptuous fancy; we take medicine to mend the injuries\nproduced by our own folly. What the medicine mends is not God's\nwork, but our own. The medicine is a _plus_ certainly; but it\nis a _plus_ applied to a _minus_ of our own introducing.\nEven in these days of practical knowledge, errors prevail on the\nsubject of health which are neither trivial nor of narrow operation.\nUniversally, the true theory of digestion, as partially unfolded\nin Dr. Wilson Philip's experiments on rabbits, is so far mistaken,\nand even inverted--that Lord Byron, when seeking a diet of easy\ndigestion, instead of resorting to animal food broiled and underdone,\nwhich all medical men know to be the most digestible food, took\nto a vegetable diet, which requires a stomach of extra power. The\nsame error is seen in the common notion about the breakfast of\nladies in Elizabeth's days, as if fit only for ploughmen; whereas\nit is _our_ breakfasts of slops which require the powerful\norgans of digestion. The same error, again, is current in the notion\nthat a weak watery diet is fit for a weak person. Such a person\npeculiarly requires solid food.  It is also a common mistake to\nsuppose that, because no absolute illness is caused by daily errors\nof diet, these errors are practically cancelled. Cowper the poet\ndelivers the very just opinion--that all disorders of a _function_\n(as, suppose, the secretion of bile,) sooner or later, if not\ncorrected, cease to be functional disorders, and become organic.]\n\nLet not the reader suspect us of the Popish doctrine, that men\nare to enter hereafter into a separate reckoning for each separate\nact, or to stand at all upon their own merits. That reckoning, we\nProtestants believe, no man could stand; and that some other resource\nmust be had than any personal merits of the individual.  But still\nwe should recollect that this doctrine, though providing a refuge\nfor past offences, provides none for such offences as are committed\ndeliberately, with a prospective view to the benefits of such\na refuge.  Offend we may, and we must: but then our offences must\ncome out of mere infirmity--not because we calculate upon a large\nallowance being made to us, and say to ourselves, '_Let us take\nout our allowance._'\n\nCasuistry, therefore, justly, and without infringing any truth of\nChristianity, urges the care of health as the basis of all moral\naction, because, in fact, of all _perfectly voluntary_ action.\nEvery impulse of bad health jars or untunes some string in the fine\nharp of human volition; and because a man cannot be a moral being\nbut in the proportion of his free action, therefore it is clear that\nno man can be in a high sense moral, except in so far as through\nhealth he commands his bodily powers, and is not commanded by them.\n\n\n\nCASE II.\n\nLAWS OF HOSPITALITY IN COLLISION WITH CIVIC DUTIES.\n\n\nSuppose the case, that taking shelter from a shower of rain in a\nstranger's house, you discover proofs of a connection with smugglers.\nTake this for one pole of such case, the trivial extreme; then\nfor the other pole, the greater extreme, suppose the case, that,\nbeing hospitably entertained, and happening to pass the night in a\nstranger's house, you are so unfortunate as to detect unquestionable\nproofs of some dreadful crime, say murder, perpetrated in past times\nby one of the family.  The principle at issue is the same in both\ncases: viz., the command resting upon the conscience to forget\nprivate consideration and personal feelings in the presence of any\nsolemn duty; yet merely the difference of degree, and not any at\nall in the kind of duty, would lead pretty generally to a separate\npractical decision for the several cases. In the last of the two,\nwhatever might be the pain to a person's feelings, he would feel\nhimself to have no discretion or choice left. Reveal he must; not\nonly, if otherwise revealed, he must come forward as a witness, but,\nif not revealed, he must denounce--he must lodge an information,\nand that instantly, else even in law, without question of morality,\nhe makes himself a party to the crime--an accomplice after the act.\nThat single consideration would with most men at once cut short all\ndeliberation. And yet even in such a situation, there is a possible\nvariety of the case that might alter its complexion. If the crime\nhad been committed many years before, and under circumstances which\nprecluded all fear that the same temptation or the same provocation\nshould arise again, most reflecting people would think it the\nbetter course to leave the criminal to his conscience. Often in\nsuch denunciations it is certain that human impertinence, and the\nspirit which sustains the habit of gossip, and mere incontinence\nof secrets, and vulgar craving for being the author of a sensation,\nhave far more often led to the publication of the offence, than\nany concern for the interests of morality.\n\nOn the other hand, with respect to the slighter extreme--viz. in\na case where the offence is entirely created by the law, with no\nnatural turpitude about it and besides (which is a strong argument\nin the case) enjoying no special facilities of escaping justice--no\nman in the circumstances supposed would have a reason for hesitating.\nThe laws of hospitality are of everlasting obligation; they are\nequally binding on the host and on the guest. Coming under a man's\nroof for one moment, in the clear character of guest, creates an\nabsolute sanctity in the consequent relations which connect the\nparties. That is the popular feeling.  The king in the old ballads is\nalways represented as feeling that it would be damnable to make a\nlegal offence out of his own venison which he had eaten as a guest.\nThere is a cleaving pollution, like that of the Syrian leprosy,\nin the act of abusing your privileges as a guest, or in any way\nprofiting by your opportunities as a guest to the injury of your\nconfiding host. Henry VII. though a prince, was no gentleman; and\nin the famous case of his dining with Lord Oxford, and saying at his\ndeparture, with reference to an infraction of his recent statute,\n'My Lord, I thank you for my good cheer, but my attorney must speak\nwith you;' Lord Oxford might have justly retorted, 'If he does,\nthen posterity will speak pretty plainly with your Majesty;' for\nit was in the character of Lord Oxford's guest that he had learned\nthe infraction of his law.  Meantime, the general rule, and the\n_rationale_ of the rule, in such cases, appears to be this:\nWhenever there is, or can be imagined, a sanctity in the obligations\non one side, and only a benefit of expediency in the obligations\nupon the other, the latter must give way. For the detection of\nsmuggling, (the particular offence supposed in the case stated,)\nsociety has an express and separate machinery maintained. If their\nactivity droops, that is the business of government. In such a\ncase, government is entitled to no aid from private citizens; on the\nexpress understanding that no aid must be expected, has so expensive\nan establishment been submitted to. Each individual refuses to\nparticipate in exposure of such offences, for the same reason that\nhe refuses to keep the street clean even before his own door--he\nhas already paid for having such work discharged by proxy.\n\n\n\nCASE III.\n\nGIVING CHARACTERS TO SERVANTS WHO HAVE MISCONDUCTED THEMSELVES.\n\n\nNo case so constantly arises to perplex the conscience in private\nlife as this--which, in principle, is almost beyond solution.\nSometimes, indeed, the coarse realities of law step in to cut\nthat Gordian knot which no man can untie; for it is an actionable\noffence to give a character wilfully false. That little fact at\nonce exorcises all aerial phantoms of the conscience.  True: but\nthis coarse machinery applies only to those cases in which the\nservant has been guilty in a way amenable to law. In any case short\nof _that_, no plaintiff would choose to face the risks of an\naction; nor could he sustain it; the defendant would always have\na sufficient resource in the vagueness and large latitude allowed\nto opinion when estimating the qualities of a servant. Almost universally,\ntherefore, the case comes back to the forum of conscience. Now in\nthat forum how stands the pleading? Too certainly, we will suppose,\nthat the servant has not satisfied your reasonable expectations.\nThis truth you would have no difficulty in declaring; here, as much\nas anywhere else, you would feel it unworthy of your own integrity\nto equivocate--you open your writing-desk, and sit down to tell\nthe mere truth in as few words as possible.  But then steps in the\nconsideration, that to do this without disguise or mitigation, is\noftentimes to sign a warrant for the ruin of a fellow-creature--and\nthat fellow-creature possibly penitent, in any case thrown upon\nyour mercy. Who can stand this? In lower walks of life, it is true\nthat mistresses often take servants without any certificate of\ncharacter; but in higher grades this is notoriously uncommon, and\nin great cities dangerous. Besides, the candidate may happen to\nbe a delicate girl, incapable of the hard labor incident to such\na lower establishment. Here, then, is a case where conscience says\ninto your left ear--_Fiat justitia, ruat caelum_--'Do your\nduty without looking to consequences.' Meantime, into the right\near conscience says, 'But mark, in that case possibly you consign\nthis poor girl to prostitution.' Lord Nelson, as is well known,\nwas once placed in a dilemma equally trying;[Footnote: On the first\nexpedition against Copenhagen, (in 1801.) He was unfortunately\nsecond in command; his principal, a brave man in person, wanted\nmoral courage--he could not face responsibility in a trying shape.\nAnd had he not been blessed with a disobedient second in command,\nhe must have returned home _re infecta_.] on one side, an\niron tongue sang out from the commander-in-chief--_retreat_;\non the other, his own oracular heart sang to him--_advance_.\nHow he decided is well known; and the words in which he proclaimed\nhis decision ought to be emblazoned for ever as the noblest of all\nrecorded repartees.  Waiving his hand towards the Admiral's ship,\nhe said to his own officers, who reported the signal of recall--'You\nmay see it; I cannot; you know I am blind on that side.' Oh,\nvenerable blindness! immortal blindness! None so deaf as those who\nwill not hear; none so gloriously blind as those who will not see\nany danger or difficulty--who have a dark eye on that side, whilst\nthey reserve another blazing like a meteor for honor and their\ncountry's interest. Most of us, we presume, in the case stated\nabout the servant, hear but the whispering voice of conscience as\nregards the truth, and her thundering voice as regards the poor girl's\ninterest. In doing this, however, we (and doubtless others) usually\nattempt to compromise the opposite suggestions of conscience by\nsome such jesuitical device as this. We dwell pointedly upon those\ngood qualities which the servant really possesses, and evade speaking\nof any others. But how, if minute, searching and circumstantial\ninquiries are made by way of letter? In that case, we affect to\nhave noticed only such as we can answer with success, passing the\ndangerous ones as so many rocks, _sub silentio_. All this\nis not quite right, you think, reader. Why, no; so think we; but\nwhat alternative is allowed? 'Say, ye severest, what would ye have\ndone?' In very truth, this is a dilemma for which Casuistry is not\na match; unless, indeed, Casuistry as armed and equipped in the\nschool of Ignatius Loyola. But that is with us reputed a piratical\nCasuistry. The whole estate of a servant lies in his capacity of\nserving; and often if you tell the truth, by one word you ruin this\nestate for ever. Meantime, a case very much of the same quality,\nand of even greater difficulty, is\n\n\n\nCASE IV.\n\nCRIMINAL PROSECUTION OF FRAUDULENT SERVANTS.\n\n\nAny reader, who is not deeply read in the economy of English life,\nwill have a most inadequate notion of the vast extent to which this\ncase occurs. We are well assured, (for our information comes from\nquarters _judicially_ conversant with the question,) that in\nno other channel of human life does there flow one-hundredth part\nof the forbearance and the lenity which are called into action by\nthe relation between injured masters and their servants. We are\ninformed that, were every third charge pursued effectually, half\nthe courts in Europe would not suffice for the cases of criminality\nwhich emerge in London alone under this head. All England would, in\nthe course of five revolving years, have passed under the torture\nof _subpoena_, as witnesses for the prosecution or the defence.\nThis multiplication of cases arises from the coincidence of hourly\nopportunity with hourly temptation, both carried to the extreme\nverge of possibility, and generally falling in with youth in the\noffenders.  These aggravations of the danger are three several\npalliations of the crime, and they have weight allowed to them by\nthe indulgent feelings of masters in a corresponding degree; not\none case out of six score that are discovered (while, perhaps,\nanother six score go undiscovered) being ever prosecuted with rigor\nand effect.\n\nIn this universal laxity of temper lies an injury too serious to\npublic morals; and the crime reproduces itself abundantly under an\nindulgence so Christian in its motive, but unfortunately operating\nwith the full effect of genial culture. Masters, who have\nmade themselves notorious by indiscriminate forgiveness, might be\nrepresented symbolically as gardeners watering and tending luxuriant\ncrops of crime in hot-beds or forcing-houses. In London, many are\nthe tradesmen, who, being reflective as well as benevolent, perceive\nthat something is amiss in the whole system.  In part the law has\nbeen to blame, stimulating false mercy by punishment disproportioned\nto the offence.  But many a judicious master has seen cause to\nsuspect his own lenity as more mischievously operative even than\nthe law's hardness, and as an effeminate surrender to luxurious\nsensibilities. Those have not been the severest masters whose names\nare attached to fatal prosecutions: on the contrary, three out of\nfour have been persons who looked forward to general consequences--having,\ntherefore, been more than usually thoughtful, were, for that reason,\nlikely to be more than usually humane. They did not suffer the less\nacutely, because their feelings ran counter to the course of what\nthey believed to be their duty. Prosecutors often sleep with less\ntranquillity during the progress of a judicial proceeding than the\nobjects of the prosecution. An English judge of the last century,\ncelebrated for his uprightness, used to balance against that\npity so much vaunted for the criminal, the duty of 'a pity to the\ncountry.' But private prosecutors of their own servants, often feel\nboth modes of pity at the same moment.\n\nFor this difficulty a book of Casuistry might suggest a variety\nof resources, not so much adapted to a case of that nature already\nexisting, as to the prevention of future cases. Every mode of trust\nor delegated duty would suggest its own separate improvements;\nbut all improvements must fall under two genuine heads--first, the\ndiminution of temptation, either by abridging the amount of trust\nreposed; or, where that is difficult, by shortening its duration,\nand multiplying the counterchecks: secondly, by the moderation\nof the punishment in the event of detection, as the sole means of\nreconciling the public conscience to the law, and diminishing the\nchances of impunity. There is a memorable proof of the rash extent\nto which the London tradesmen, at one time, carried their confidence\nin servants. So many clerks, or apprentices, were allowed to hold\nlarge balances of money in their hands through the intervals of their\nperiodical settlings, that during the Parliamentary war multitudes\nwere tempted, by that single cause, into absconding.  They had\nalways a refuge in the camps. And the loss sustained in this way\nwas so heavy, when all payments were made in gold, that to this\none evil suddenly assuming a shape of excess, is ascribed, by some\nwriters, the first establishment of goldsmiths as bankers.[Footnote:\nGoldsmiths certainly acted in that capacity from an earlier period.\nBut from this era, until the formation of the Bank of England in\n1696, they entered more fully upon the functions of bankers, issuing\nnotes which passed current in London.]\n\nTwo other weighty considerations attach to this head--1. The known\nfact that large breaches of trust, and embezzlements, are greatly\non the increase, and have been since the memorable case of Mr.\nFauntleroy. America is, and will be for ages, a city of refuge for\nthis form of guilt. 2. That the great training of the conscience\nin all which regards pecuniary justice and fidelity to engagements,\nlies through the discipline and _tyrocinium_ of the humbler\nministerial offices--those of clerks, book-keepers, apprentices.\nThe law acts through these offices, for the unconfirmed conscience,\nas leading-strings to an infant in its earliest efforts at walking.\nIt forces to go right, until the choice may be supposed trained and\nfully developed.  That is the great function of the law; a function\nwhich it will perform with more or less success, as it is more or\nless fitted to win the cordial support of masters.\n\n\n\nCASE V.\n\nVERACITY.\n\n\nHere is a special 'title,' (to speak with the civil lawyers,)\nunder that general claim put in for England with respect to a moral\npre-eminence amongst the nations. Many are they who, in regions\nwidely apart, have noticed with honor the English superiority\nin the article of veneration for truth. Not many years ago, two\nEnglishmen, on their road overland to India, fell in with a royal\n_cortege_, and soon after with the prime minister and the crown\nprince of Persia. The prince honored them with an interview; both\nparties being on horseback, and the conversation therefore reduced\nto the points of nearest interest. Amongst these was the English\ncharacter. Upon this the prince's remark was--that what had most\nimpressed him with respect for England and her institutions was,\nthe remarkable spirit of truth-speaking which distinguished her\nsons; as supposing her institutions to grow out of her sons, and\nher sons out of her institutions. And indeed well he might have\nthis feeling by comparison with his own countrymen: Persians have\nno _principles_ apparently on this point--all is impulse and\naccident of feeling.  Thus the journal of the two Persian princes\nin London, as lately reported in the newspapers, is one tissue of\nfalsehoods: not, most undoubtedly, from any purpose of deceiving,\nbut from the overmastering habit (cherished by their whole training\nand experience) of repeating everything in a spirit of amplification,\nwith a view to the _wonder_ only of the hearer. The Persians\nare notoriously the Frenchmen of the East; the same gaiety, the same\nlevity, the same want of depth both as to feeling and principle.\nThe Turks are much nearer to the English: the same gravity\nof temperament, the same meditativeness, the same sternness of\nprinciple. Of all European nations, the French is that which least\nregards truth. The whole spirit of their private memoirs and their\nanecdotes illustrates this. To point an anecdote or a repartee, there\nis no extravagance of falsehood that the French will not endure. What\nnation but the French would have tolerated that monstrous fiction\nabout La Fontaine, by way of illustrating his supposed absence of\nmind--viz. that, on meeting his own son in a friend's house, he\nexpressed his admiration of the young man, and begged to know his\nname. The fact probably may have been that La Fontaine was not\nliable to any absence at all: apparently this 'distraction' was\nassumed as a means of making a poor sort of sport for his friends.\nLike many another man in such circumstances, he saw and entered\ninto the fun which his own imaginary forgetfulness produced. But\nwere it otherwise, who can believe so outrageous a self-forgetfulness\nas that which would darken his eyes to the very pictures of his\nown hearth? Were such a thing possible, were it even real, it would\nstill be liable to the just objection of the critics--that, being\nmarvelous in appearance, even as a fact it ought not to be brought\nforward for any purpose of wit, but only as a truth of physiology,\nor as a fact in the records of a surgeon.  The _'incredulus odi'_\nis too strong in such cases, and it adheres to three out of every\nfour French anecdotes.  The French taste is, indeed, anything but\ngood in all that department of wit and humor. And the ground lies in\ntheir national want of veracity. To return to England--and having\ncited an Oriental witness to the English character on this point, let\nus now cite a most observing one in the West. Kant, in Konigsberg,\nwas surrounded by Englishmen and by foreigners of all nations--foreign\nand English students, foreign and English merchants; and he pronounced\nthe main characteristic feature of the English as a nation to lie\nin their severe reverence for truth. This from him was no slight\npraise; for such was the stress he laid upon veracity, that upon\nthis one quality he planted the whole edifice of moral excellence.\nGeneral integrity could not exist, he held, without veracity as its\nbasis; nor that basis exist without superinducing general integrity.\n\nThis opinion, perhaps, many beside Kant will see cause to approve.\nFor ourselves we can truly say--never did we know a human being,\nboy or girl, who began life as an habitual undervaluer of truth,\nthat did not afterwards exhibit a character conformable to that\nbeginning--such a character as, however superficially correct\nunder the steadying hand of self-interest, was not in a lower key\nof moral feeling as well as of principle.\n\nBut out of this honorable regard to veracity in Immanuel Kant,\nbranched out a principle in Casuistry which most people will\npronounce monstrous. It has occasioned much disputing backwards\nand forwards.  But as a practical principle of conduct, (for which\nKant meant it,) inevitably it must be rejected--if for no other\nreason because it is at open war with the laws and jurisprudence of\nall Christian Europe. Kant's doctrine was this; and the illustrative\ncase in which it is involved, let it be remembered, is his own:--So\nsacred a thing, said he, is truth--that if a murderer, pursuing\nanother with an avowed purpose of killing him, were to ask of a\nthird person by what road the fleeing party had fled, that person\nis bound to give him true information. And you are at liberty\nto suppose this third person a wife, a daughter, or under any\nconceivable obligations of love and duty to the fugitive.  Now this\nis monstrous: and Kant himself, with all his parental fondness for\nthe doctrine, would certainly have been recalled to sounder thoughts\nby these two considerations--\n\n1_st_. That by all the codes of law received throughout Europe,\nhe who acted upon Kant's principle would be held a _particeps\ncriminis_--an accomplice before the fact.\n\n2_d_. That, in reality, a just principle is lurking under\nKant's error; but a principle translated from its proper ground.\nNot truth, individual or personal--not truth of mere facts, but\ntruth doctrinal--the truth which teaches, the truth which changes\nmen and nations--this is the truth concerned in Kant's meaning,\nhad he explained his own meaning to himself more distinctly.\nWith respect to that truth, wheresoever it lies, Kant's doctrine\napplies--that all men have a right to it; that perhaps you have no\nright to suppose of any race or nation that it is not prepared to\nreceive it; and, at any rate, that no circumstances of expedience\ncan justify you in keeping it back.\n\n\n\nCASE VI.\n\nTHE CASE OF CHARLES I.\n\n\nMany cases arise from the life and political difficulties of\nCharles I. But there is one so peculiarly pertinent to an essay\nwhich entertains the general question of Casuistry--its legitimacy,\nits value--that with this, although not properly a domestic case,\nor only such in a mixed sense, we shall conclude.\n\nNo person has been so much attacked for his scruples of conscience\nas this prince; and what seems odd enough, no person has been so much\nattacked for resorting to books of Casuistry, and for encouraging\nliterary men to write books of Casuistry. Under his suggestion and\nsanction, Saunderson wrote his book on the obligation of an oath,\n(for which there was surely reason enough in days when the democratic\ntribunals were forcing men to swear to an _et caetera_;) and,\nby an impulse originally derived from him, Jeremy Taylor wrote\nafterwards his _Ductor Dubitantium_, Bishop Barlow wrote his\n_Cases of Conscience_, &c. &c.\n\nFor this dedication of his studies, Charles has been plentifully\nblamed in after times. He was seeking evasions for plain duties,\nsay his enemies. He was arming himself for intrigue in the school\nof Machiavel. But now turn to his history, and ask in what way any\nman could have extricated himself from that labyrinth which invested\nhis path _but_ by Casuistry. Cases the most difficult are\noffered for his decision: peace for a distracted nation in 1647,\non terms which seemed fatal to the monarchy; peace for the same\nnation under the prospect of war rising up again during the Isle\nof Wight treaty in 1648, but also under the certainty of destroying\nthe Church of England. On the one side, by refusing, he seemed to\ndisown his duties as the father of his people.  On the other side,\nby yielding, he seemed to forget his coronation oath, and the ultimate\ninterests of his people--to merge the future and the reversionary\nin the present and the fugitive. It was not within the possibilities\nthat he could so act as not to offend one half of the nation.  His\ndire calamity it was, that he must be hated, act how he would, and\nmust be condemned by posterity.  Did his enemies allow for the\nmisery of this internal conflict? Milton, who never appears to\nmore disadvantage than when he comes forward against his sovereign,\nis indignant that Charles should have a conscience, or plead a\nconscience, in a public matter.  Henderson, the celebrated Scotch\ntheologian, came post from Edinburgh to London (whence he went to\nNewcastle) expressly to combat the king's scruples.  And he also\n(in his private letters) seems equally enraged as Milton, that\nCharles should pretend to any private conscience in a state question.\n\nNow let us ask--what was it that originally drove Charles to books\nof Casuistry? It was the deep shock which he received, both in his\naffections and his conscience, from the death of Lord Strafford.\nEvery body had then told him, even those who felt how much the law\nmust be outraged to obtain a conviction of Lord Strafford, how many\nprinciples of justice must be shaken, and how sadly the royal word\nmust suffer in its sanctity,--yet all had told him that it was\nexpedient to sacrifice that nobleman. One man ought not to stand\nbetween the king and his alienated people. It was good for the common\nwelfare that Lord Strafford should die.  Charles was unconvinced.\nHe was sure of the injustice; and perhaps he doubted even of the\nexpedience.  But his very virtues were armed against his peace. In\nall parts of his life self-distrust and diffidence had marked his\ncharacter. What was he, a single person, to resist so many wise\ncounsellors, and what in a representative sense was the nation ranged\non the other side? He yielded: and it is not too much to say that\nhe never had a happy day afterwards. The stirring period of his\nlife succeeded--the period of war, camps, treaties. Much time was\nnot allowed him for meditation. But there is abundant proof that\nsuch time as he had, always pointed his thoughts backwards to the\nafflicting case of Lord Stratford. This he often spoke of as the\ngreat blot--the ineffaceable transgression of his life. For this\nhe mourned in penitential words yet on record. To this he traced\nback the calamity of his latter life. Lord Stratford's memorable\nwords--'Put not your trust in princes, nor in the sons of princes,'--rang\nfor ever in his ear. Lord Stafford's blood lay like a curse upon\nhis throne.\n\nNow, by what a pointed answer, drawn from this one case, might\nCharles have replied to the enemies we have noticed--to those,\nlike so many historians since his day, who taxed him with studying\nCasuistry for the purposes of intrigue--to those, like Milton and\nHenderson, who taxed him with exercising his private conscience on\npublic questions.\n\n'I had studied no books of Casuistry,' he might have replied, 'when\nI made the sole capital blunder in a case of conscience, which the\nreview of my life can show.\n\n'I did not insist on my private conscience; woe is me that I did\nnot: I yielded to what was called the public conscience in that\none case which has proved the affliction of my life, and which,\nperhaps, it was that wrecked the national peace.'\n\nA more plenary answer there cannot be to those who suppose that\nCasuistry is evaded by evading books of Casuistry. That dread forum\nof conscience will for ever exist as a tribunal of difficulty. The\ndiscussion must proceed on some principle or other, good or bad;\nand the only way for obtaining light is by clearing up the grounds\nof action, and applying the principles of moral judgment to such\nfacts or circumstances as most frequently arise to perplex the\nunderstanding, or the affections, or the conscience.\n\n\n\n\nGREECE UNDER THE ROMANS.[Footnote: By George Finlae]\n\n[1844.]\n\n\n\nWhat is called _Philosophical History_ we believe to be yet\nin its infancy. It is the profound remark of Mr. Finlay--profound\nas we ourselves understand it, _i. e.,_ in relation to this\nphilosophical treatment, 'That history will ever remain inexhaustible.'\nHow inexhaustible?  Are the _facts_ of history inexhaustible?\nIn regard to the _ancient_ division of history with which he\nis there dealing, this would be in no sense true; and in any case\nit would be a lifeless truth. So entirely have the mere facts of\nPagan history been disinterred, ransacked, sifted, that except by\nmeans of some chance medal that may be unearthed in the illiterate\nEast (as of late towards Bokhara), or by means of some mysterious\ninscription, such as those which still mock the learned traveller\nin Persia, northwards near Hamadan (Ecbatana), and southwards at\nPersepolis, or those which distract him amongst the shadowy ruins\nof Yucatan (Uxmal, suppose, and Palenque),--once for all, barring\nthese pure godsends, it is hardly 'in the dice' that any downright\nnovelty of fact should remain in reversion for this nineteenth\ncentury. The merest possibility exists, that in Armenia, or in a\nGraeco-Russian monastery on Mount Athos, or in Pompeii, &c., some\nauthors hitherto \u03b1\u03b9\u03b5\u03c7\u03b4\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 may yet be concealed; and by\na channel in that degree improbable, it is possible that certain\nnew facts of history may still reach us. But else, and failing these\ncryptical or subterraneous currents of communication, for us the\nrecord is closed. History in that sense has come to an end, and\nsealed up as by the angel in the Apocalypse. What then? The facts\n_so_ understood are but the dry bones of the mighty past. And\nthe question arises here also, not less than in that sublimest of\nprophetic visions, 'Can these dry bones live?'.  Not only can they\nlive, but by an infinite variety of life. The same historic facts,\nviewed in different lights, or brought into connection with other\nfacts, according to endless diversities of permutation and combination,\nfurnish grounds for such eternal successions of new speculations\nas make the facts themselves virtually new. The same Hebrew words\nare read by different sets of vowel points, and the same hieroglyphics\nare deciphered by keys everlastingly varied.\n\nTo us we repeat that oftentimes it seems as though the _science_\nof history were yet scarcely founded.  There will be such a science,\nif at present there is not; and in one feature of its capacities\nit will resemble chemistry. What is so familiar to the perceptions\nof man as the common chemical agents of water, air, and the soil\non which we tread? Yet each one of these elements is a mystery to\nthis day; handled, used, tried, searched experimentally, in ten\nthousand ways--it is still unknown; fathomed by recent science down\nto a certain depth, it is still probably by its destiny unfathomable.\nEven to the end of days, it is pretty certain that the minutest\nparticle of earth--that a dew-drop scarcely distinguishable as\na separate object--that the slenderest filament of a plant will\ninclude within itself secrets inaccessible to man. And yet, compared\nwith the mystery of man himself, these physical worlds of mystery\nare but as a radix of infinity.  Chemistry is in this view mysterious\nand spinosistically sublime--that it is the science of the latent\nin all things, of all things as lurking in all. Within the lifeless\nflint, within the silent pyrites, slumbers an agony of potential\ncombustion. Iron is imprisoned in blood. With cold water (as\nevery child is now-a-days aware) you may lash a fluid into angry\nebullitions of heat; with hot water, as with the rod of Amram's\nson, you may freeze a fluid down to the temperature of the Sarsar\nwind, provided only that you regulate the pressure of the air. The\nsultry and dissolving fluid shall bake into a solid, the petrific\nfluid shall melt into a liquid. Heat shall freeze, frost shall thaw;\nand wherefore? Simply because old things are brought together in\nnew modes of combination. And in endless instances beside we see the\nsame Panlike latency of forms and powers, which gives to the external\nworld a capacity of self-transformation, and of _polymorphosis_\nabsolutely inexhaustible.\n\nBut the same capacity belongs to the facts of history.  And we\ndo not mean merely that, from subjective differences in the minds\nreviewing them, such facts assume endless varieties of interpretation\nand estimate, but that objectively, from lights still increasing\nin the science of government and of social philosophy, all the\nprimary facts of history become liable continually to new theories,\nto new combinations, and to new valuations of their moral relations.\nWe have seen some kinds of marble, where the veinings happened to\nbe unusually multiplied, in which human faces, figures, processions,\nor fragments of natural scenery seemed absolutely illimitable,\nunder the endless variations or inversions of the order, according\nto which they might be combined and grouped. Something analogous\ntakes effect in reviewing the remote parts of history. Rome, for\ninstance, has been the object of historic pens for twenty centuries\n(dating from Polybius); and yet hardly so much as twenty years have\nelapsed since Niebuhr opened upon us almost a new revelation, by\nre-combining the same eternal facts, according to a different set\nof principles. The same thing may be said, though not with the\nsame degree of emphasis, upon the Grecian researches of the late\nOttfried Mueller. Egyptian history again, even at this moment,\nis seen stealing upon us through the dusky twilight in its first\ndistinct lineaments. Before Young, Champollion, and the others\nwho have followed on their traces in this field of history, all\nwas outer darkness; and whatsoever we _do_ know or _shall_\nknow of Egyptian Thebes will now be recovered as if from the\nunswathing of a mummy. Not until a flight of three thousand years\nhas left Thebes the Hekatompylos a dusky speck in the far distance,\nhave we even _begun_ to read her annals, or to understand her\nrevolutions.\n\nAnother instance we have now before us of this new historic faculty\nfor resuscitating the buried, and for calling back the breath to\nthe frozen features of death, in Mr. Finlay's work upon the Greeks\nas related to the Roman empire. He presents us with old facts, but\nunder the purpose of clothing them with a new life. He rehearses\nancient stories, not with the humble ambition of better adorning\nthem, of more perspicuously narrating, or even of more forcibly\npointing their moral, but of extracting from them some new meaning,\nand thus forcing them to arrange themselves, under some latent\nconnection, with other phenomena now first detected, as illustrations\nof some great principle or agency now first revealing its importance.\nMr. Finlay's style of intellect is appropriate to such a task; for\nit is subtle and Machiavellian. But there is this difficulty in\ndoing justice to the novelty, and at times we may say with truth\nto the profundity of his views, that they are by necessity thrown\nout in continued successions of details, are insulated, and, in\none word, _sporadic_. This follows from the very nature of his\nwork; for it is a perpetual commentary on the incidents of Grecian\nhistory, from the era of the Roman conquest to the commencement of\nwhat Mr.  Finlay, in a peculiar sense, calls the Byzantine empire.\nThese incidents have nowhere been systematically or continuously\nrecorded; they come forward by casual flashes in the annals, perhaps,\nof some church historian, as they happen to connect themselves with\nhis momentary theme; or they betray themselves in the embarrassments\nof the central government, whether at Rome or at Constantinople,\nwhen arguing at one time a pestilence, at another an insurrection,\nor an inroad of barbarians. It is not the fault of Mr. Finlay, but\nhis great disadvantage, that the affairs of Greece have been thus\ndiscontinuously exhibited, and that its internal changes of condition\nhave been never treated except obliquely, and by men _aliud\nagentibus_. The Grecian _race_ had a primary importance on\nour planet; but the Grecian name, represented by Greece considered\nas a territory, or as the original seat of the Hellenic people,\nceased to have much importance, in the eyes of historians, from\nthe time when it became a conquered province; and it declined\ninto absolute insignificance after the conquest of so many other\nprovinces had degraded Hellas into an arithmetical unit, standing\namongst a total amount of figures, so vast and so much more\ndazzling to the ordinary mind.  Hence it was that in ancient times\nno complete history of Greece, through all her phases and stages,\nwas ever attempted. The greatness of her later revolutions, simply\nas changes, would have attracted the historian; but, as changes\nassociated with calamity and loss of power, they repelled his\ncuriosity, and alienated his interest. It is the very necessity,\ntherefore, of Mr. Finlay's position, when coming into such an\ninheritance, that he must splinter his philosophy into separate\nindividual notices; for the records of history furnish no grounds\nfor more. _Spartam, quam nactus est, ornavit_. But this does\nnot remedy the difficulty for ourselves, in attempting to give a\nrepresentative view of his philosophy. General abstractions he had\nno opportunity for presenting; consequently we have no opportunity\nfor valuing; and, on the other hand, single cases selected from a\nsuccession of hundreds would not justify any _representative_\ncriticism, more than the single brick, in the anecdote of Hierocles,\nwould serve representatively to describe or to appraise the house.\n\nUnder this difficulty as to the possible for ourselves, and the\njust for Mr. Finlay, we shall adopt the following course. So far as\nthe Greek people collected themselves in any splendid manner with\nthe Roman empire, they did so with the eastern horn of that empire,\nand in point of time from the foundation of Constantinople as an\neastern Rome, in the fourth century, to a period not fully agreed\non; but for the moment we will say with Mr. Finlay, up to the early\npart of the eighth century. A reason given by Mr.  Finlay for this\nlatter date is--that about that time the Grecian blood, so widely\ndiffused in Asia, and even in Africa, became finally detached by\nthe progress of Mahometanism and Mahometan systems of power from\nall further concurrence or coalition with the views of the Byzantine\nCaesar. Constantinople was from that date thrown back more upon its\nown peculiar heritage and jurisdiction, of which the main resources\nfor war and peace lay in Europe and (speaking by the narrowest\nterms) in Thrace. Henceforth, therefore, for the city and throne\nof Constantine, resuming its old Grecian name of Byzantium, there\nsucceeded a theatre less diffusive, a population more concentrated,\na character of action more determinate and jealous, a style of\ncourtly ceremonial more elaborate as well as more haughtily repulsive,\nand universally a system of interests, as much more definite and\nselfish, as might naturally be looked for in a nation now everywhere\nsurrounded by new thrones gloomy with malice, and swelling with the\nconsciousness of youthful power.  This new and final state of the\neastern Rome Mr.  Finlay denominates the Byzantine empire. Possibly\nthis use of the term may be capable of justification: but more\nquestions would arise in the discussion than Mr. Finlay has thought\nit of importance to notice.  And for the present we shall take the\nword _Byzantine_ in its most ordinary acceptation, as denoting\nthe local empire founded by Constantine in Byzantium early in the\nfourth century, under the idea of a translation from the old western\nRome, and overthrown by the Ottoman Turks in the year 1453. In\nthe fortunes and main stages of this empire, what are the chief\narresting phenomena, aspects, or relations, to the greatest of\nmodern interests? We select by preference these:\n\nI. _First_, this was the earliest among the kingdoms of our\nplanet _which connected itself with Christianity_.  In Armenia,\nthere had been a previous _state_ recognition of Christianity.\nBut _that_ was neither splendid nor distinct. Whereas the\nByzantine Rome built avowedly upon Christianity as its own basis,\nand consecrated its own nativity by the sublime act of founding the\nfirst provision ever attempted for the poor, considered simply as\npoor (_i.e._ as objects of pity, not as instruments of ambition).\n\nII. _Secondly, as the great aegis of western Christendom_,\nnay, the barrier which made it possible that any Christendom should\never exist, this Byzantine empire is entitled to a very different\nstation in the enlightened gratitude of us Western Europeans from\nany which it has yet held. We do not scruple to say--that, by\ncomparison with the services of the Byzantine people to Europe, no\nnation on record has ever stood in the same relation to any other\nsingle nation, much less to a whole family of nations, whether as\nregards the opportunity and means of conferring benefits, or as\nregards the astonishing perseverance in supporting the succession\nof these benefits, or as regards the ultimate event of these\nbenefits. A great wrong has been done for ages; for we have all been\naccustomed to speak of the Byzantine empire with scorn, [Footnote:\n_'With scorn.'_--This has arisen from two causes: one is the\nhabit of regarding the whole Roman empire as in its 'decline' from\nso early a period as that of Commodus; agreeably to which conceit,\nit would naturally follow that, during its latter stages, the\nEastern empire must have been absolutely in its dotage. If already\ndeclining in the second century, then, from the tenth to the\nfifteenth, it must have been paralytic and bed-ridden  The other\ncause may be found in the accidental but reasonable hostility\nof the Byzantine court to the first Crusaders, as also in the\ndisadvantageous comparison with respect to manly virtues between the\nsimplicity of these western children, and the refined dissimulation\nof the Byzantines.] as chiefly known by its effeminacy; and the\ngreater is the call for a fervent palinode.\n\nIII. _Thirdly._ In a reflex way, as the one great danger\nwhich overshadowed Europe for generations, and against which the\nByzantine empire proved the capital bulwark, Mahometanism may rank\nas one of the Byzantine aspects or counterforces. And if there is\nany popular error applying to the history of that great convulsion,\nas a political effort for revolutionizing the world, some notice\nof it will find a natural place in connection with these present\ntrains of speculation.\n\nLet us, therefore, have permission to throw together a few remarks\non these three subjects--1st, on the remarkable distinction by\nwhich the eldest of Christian rulers proclaimed and inaugurated\nthe Christian basis of his empire; 2dly, on the true but forgotten\nrelation of this great empire to our modern Christendom, under\nwhich idea we comprehend Europe and the whole continent of America;\n3dly, on the false pretensions of Mahometanism, whether advanced\nby itself or by inconsiderate Christian speculators on its behalf.\nWe shall thus obtain this advantage, that some sort of unity will\nbe given to our own glances at Mr. Finlay's theme; and, at the same\ntime, by gathering under these general heads any dispersed comments\nof Mr.  Finlay, whether for confirmation of our own views, or for\nany purpose of objection to his, we shall give to those comments\nalso that kind of unity, by means of a reference to a common purpose,\nwhich we could not have given them by citing each independently\nfor itself.\n\nI. First, then, as to that memorable act by which Constantinople\n(_i. e._ the Eastern empire) connected herself for ever with\nChristianity; viz. the recognition of pauperism as an element in the\nstate entitled to the maternal guardianship of the state. In this\nnew principle, introduced by Christianity, we behold a far-seeing\nor proleptic wisdom, making provision for evils before they had\narisen; for it is certain that great expansions of pauperism did\nnot exist in the ancient world. A pauper population is a disease\npeculiar to the modern or Christian world. Various causes latent\nin the social systems of the ancients prevented such developments\nof surplus people. But does not this argue a superiority in the social\narrangements of these ancients? Not at all; they were atrociously\nworse.  They evaded this one morbid affection by means of others\nfar more injurious to the moral advance of man.  The case was then\neverywhere as at this day it is in Persia. A Persian ambassador\nto London or Paris might boast that, in his native Iran, no such\nspectacles existed of hunger-bitten myriads as may be seen everywhere\nduring seasons of distress in the crowded cities of Christian\nEurope. 'No,' would be the answer, 'most certainly not; but why?\nThe reason is, that your accursed form of society and government\n_intercepts_ such surplus people, does not suffer them to\nbe born.  What is the result? You ought, in Persia, to have three\nhundred millions of people; your vast territory is easily capacious\nof that number. You _have_--how many have you? Something\nless than eight millions.' Think of this, startled reader. But, if\n_that_ be a good state of things, then any barbarous soldier\nwho makes a wilderness, is entitled to call himself a great philosopher\nand public benefactor. This is to cure the headache by amputating\nthe head. Now, the same principle of limitation to population\n_a parte ante_, though not in the same savage excess as in\nMahometan Persia, operated upon Greece and Rome. The whole Pagan\nworld escaped the evils of redundant population by vicious repressions\nof it beforehand. But under Christianity a new state of things\nwas destined to take effect. Many protections and excitements to\npopulation were laid in the framework of this new religion, which,\nby its new code of rules and impulses, in so many ways extended the\nfree-agency of human beings.  Manufacturing industry was destined\nfirst to arise on any great scale under Christianity. Except in Tyre\nand Alexandria (see the Emperor Hadrian's account of this last),\nthere was no town or district in the ancient world where the\npopulace could be said properly to work. The rural laborers worked\na little--not much;--and sailors worked a little;--nobody else worked\nat all. Even slaves had little more work distributed amongst each\nten than now settles upon one.  And in many other ways, by protecting\nthe principle of life, as a mysterious sanctity, Christianity has\nfavored the development of an excessive population.  There it is\nthat Christianity, being answerable for the mischief, is answerable\nfor its redress. Therefore it is that, breeding the disease,\nChristianity breeds the cure. Extending the vast lines of poverty,\nChristianity it was that first laid down the principle of a relief\nfor poverty. Constantine, the first Christian potentate, laid the\nfirst stone of the mighty overshadowing institution since reared\nin Christian lands to poverty, disease, orphanage, and mutilation.\nChristian instincts, moving and speaking through that Caesar,\nfirst carried out that great idea of Christianity. Six years was\nChristianity in building Constantinople, and in the seventh she\nrested from her labors, saying, 'Henceforward let the poor man\nhave a haven of rest for ever; a rest from his work for one day\nin seven; a rest from his anxieties by a legal and fixed relief.'\nBeing legal, it could not be open to disturbances of caprice in the\ngiver; being fixed, it was not open to disturbances of miscalculation\nin the receiver. Now, first, when first Christianity was installed\nas a public organ of government (and first owned a distinct political\nresponsibility), did it become the duty of a religion which assumed,\nas it were, the _official_ tutelage of poverty, to proclaim\nand consecrate that function by some great memorial precedent. And,\naccordingly, in testimony of that obligation, the first Christian\nCaesar, on behalf of Christianity, founded the first system of\nrelief for pauperism.  It is true, that largesses from the public\ntreasury, gratuitous coin, or corn sold at diminished rates, not\nto mention the _sportulae_ or stated doles of private Roman\nnobles, had been distributed amongst the indigent citizens of Western\nRome for centuries before Constantine; but all these had been the\nselfish bounties of factious ambition or intrigue.\n\nTo Christianity was reserved the inaugural act of public charity\nin the spirit of charity. We must remember that no charitable\nor beneficent institutions of any kind, grounded on disinterested\nkindness, existed amongst the Pagan Romans, and still less amongst\nthe Pagan Greeks. Mr. Coleridge, in one of his lay sermons, advanced\nthe novel doctrine--that in the Scripture is contained all genuine\nand profound statesmanship.  Of course he must be understood to\nmean--in its capital principles; for, as to subordinate and executive\nrules for applying such principles, these, doubtless, are in part\nsuggested by the local circumstances in each separate case. Now,\namongst the political theories of the Bible is this--that pauperism\nis not an accident in the constitution of states, but an indefeasible\nnecessity; or, in the scriptural words, that 'the poor shall\nnever cease out of the land.' This theory or great canon of social\nphilosophy, during many centuries, drew no especial attention from\nphilosophers. It passed for a truism, bearing no particular emphasis\nor meaning beyond some general purpose of sanction to the impulses\nof charity. But there is good reason to believe, that it slumbered,\nand was meant to slumber, until Christianity arising and moving\nforwards should call it into a new life, as a principle suited to\na new order of things. Accordingly, we have seen of late that this\nscriptural dictum--'The poor shall never cease out of the land'--has\nterminated its career as a truism (that is, as a truth, either obvious\non one hand, or inert on the other), and has wakened into a polemic\nor controversial life. People arose who took upon them utterly to\ndeny this scriptural doctrine.  Peremptorily they challenged the\nassertion that poverty must always exist. The Bible said that it\nwas an affection of human society which could not be exterminated;\nthe economist of 1800 said that it was a foul disease, which must\nand should be exterminated.  The scriptural philosophy said, that\npauperism was inalienable from man's social condition in the same\nway that decay was inalienable from his flesh. 'I shall soon see\n_that_,' said the economist of 1800, 'for as sure as my name\nis M----, I will have this poverty put down by law within one\ngeneration, if there's a law to be had in the courts of Westminster.'\nThe Scriptures have left word--that, if any man should come to the\nnational banquet declaring himself unable to pay his contribution,\nthat man should be accounted the guest of Christianity, and should\nbe privileged to sit at the table in thankful remembrance of what\nChristianity had done for man. But Mr. M---- left word with all\nthe servants, that, if any man should present himself under those\ncircumstances, he was to be told, 'the table is full'--(_his_\nwords, not ours); 'go away, good man.' Go away! Mr, M----? Where\nwas he to go to? Whither? In what direction?--'Why, if you come to\n_that_,' said the man of 1800, 'to any ditch that he prefers:\nsurely there's good choice of ditches for the most fastidious taste.'\nDuring twenty years, viz. from 1800 to 1820, this new philosophy,\nwhich substituted a ditch for a dinner, and a paving-stone for a\nloaf, prevailed and prospered. At one time it seemed likely enough\nto prove a snare to our own aristocracy--the noblest of all ages.\nBut that peril was averted, and the further history of the case\nwas this: By the year 1820, much discussion having passed to and\nfro, serious doubts had arisen in many quarters; scepticism had\nbegun to arm itself against the sceptic; the economist of 1800 was\nno longer quite sure of his ground. He was now suspected of being\nfallible; and what seemed of worse augury, he was beginning himself\nto suspect as much. To one capital blunder he was obliged publicly\nto plead guilty.  What it was, we shall have occasion to mention\nimmediately.  Meantime it was justly thought that, in a dispute\nloaded with such prodigious practical consequences, good sense\nand prudence demanded a more extended inquiry than had yet been\ninstituted. Whether poverty would ever cease from the land, might\nbe doubted by those who balanced their faith in Scripture against\ntheir faith in the man of 1800. But this at least could not be\ndoubted--that as yet poverty _had_ not ceased, nor indeed had\nmade any sensible preparations for ceasing from any land in Europe. It\nwas a clear case, therefore, that, howsoever Europe might please\nto dream upon the matter when pauperism should have reached\nthat glorious euthanasy predicted by the alchemist of old and the\neconomist of 1800, for the present she must deal actively with her\nown pauperism on some avowed plan and principle, good or evil--gentle\nor harsh. Accordingly, in the train of years between 1820 and\n1830, inquiries were made of every separate state in Europe, what\n_were_ those plans and principles. For it was justly said--'As\none step towards judging rightly of our own system, now that it\nhas been so clamorously challenged for a bad system, let us learn\nwhat it is that other nations think upon the subject, but above all\nwhat it is that they _do_.' The answers to our many inquiries\nvaried considerably; and some amongst the most enlightened nations\nappear to have adopted the good old plan of _laissez faire_,\ngiving nothing from any public fund to the pauper, but authorizing\nhim to levy contributions on that gracious allegoric lady, Private\nCharity, wherever he could meet her taking the air with her babes.\nThis reference appeared to be the main one in reply to any application\nof the pauper; and for all the rest they referred him generally to\nthe 'ditch,' or to his own unlimited choice of ditches, according\nto the approved method of public benevolence published in 4to and\nin 8vo by the man of 1800. But there were other and humbler states\nin Europe, whose very pettiness has brought more fully within their\nvision the whole machinery and watchwork of pauperism, as it acted\nand reacted on the industrious poverty of the land, and on other\ninterests, by means of the system adopted in relieving it. From\nthese states came many interesting reports, all tending to some\ngood purpose. But at last, and before the year 1830, amongst other\nresults of more or less value, three capital points were established,\nnot more decisive for the justification of the English system of\nadministering national relief to paupers, and of all systems that\nreverenced the authority of Scripture, than they were for the\noverthrow of Mr. M----, the man of 1800. These three points are\nworthy of being used as buoys in mapping out the true channels, or\nindicating the breakers on this difficult line of navigation; and\nwe now rehearse them. They may seem plain almost to obviousness;\nbut it is enough that they involve all the disputed questions of\nthe case.\n\n_First_. That, in spite of the assurances from economists, no\nprogress whatever had been made by England or by any state which\nlent any sanction to the hope of ever eradicating poverty from\nsociety.\n\n_Secondly_. That, in absolute contradiction of the whole\nhypothesis relied on by M--- and his brethren, in its most fundamental\ndoctrine, a legal provision for poverty did not act as a bounty on\nmarriage. The experience of England, where the trial had been made\non the largest scale, was decisive on this point; and the opposite\nexperience of Ireland, under the opposite circumstances, was equally\ndecisive. And this result had made itself so clear by 1820, that\neven M--- (as we have already noticed by anticipation) was compelled\nto publish a recantation as to this particular error, which in\neffect was a recantation of his entire theory.\n\n_Thirdly_. That, according to the concurring experience of\nall the most enlightened states of Christendom, the public suffered\nleast (not merely in molestation but in money), pauperism benefited\nmost, and the growth of pauperism was retarded most, precisely as\nthe provision for the poor had been legalized as to its obligation,\nand fixed as to its amount. Left to individual discretion, the\nburden was found to press most unequally; and, on the other hand,\nthe evil itself of pauperism, whilst much less effectually relieved,\nnevertheless through the irregular action of this relief was much\nmore powerfully stimulated.\n\nSuch is the abstract of our latest public warfare on this great\nquestion through a period of nearly fifty years. And the issue is\nthis--starting from the contemptuous defiance of the scriptural\ndoctrine upon the necessity of making provision for poverty as an\nindispensable element in civil communities, the economy of the age\nhas lowered its tone by graduated descents, in each one successively\nof the four last _decennia_. The philosophy of the day as to\nthis point at least is at length in coincidence with Scripture. And\nthus the very extensive researches of this nineteenth century, as\nto pauperism, have re-acted with the effect of a full justification\nupon Constantine's attempt to connect the foundation of his empire\nwith that new theory of Christianity upon the imperishableness of\npoverty, and upon the duties corresponding to it.\n\nMeantime, Mr. Finlay denies that Christianity had been raised by\nConstantine into the religion of the state; and others have denied\nthat, in the extensive money privileges conceded to Constantinople,\nhe contemplated any but political principles. As to the first point,\nwe apprehend that Constantine will be found not so much to have\nshrunk back from fear of installing Christianity in the seat of\nsupremacy, as to have diverged in policy from our modern _methods_\nof such an installation. Our belief is, that according to _his_\nnotion of a state religion, he supposed himself to have conferred\nthat distinction upon Christianity. With respect to the endowments\nand privileges of Constantinople, they were various; some lay\nin positive donations, others in immunities and exemptions; some\nagain were designed to attract strangers, others to attract nobles\nfrom old Rome. But, with fuller opportunities for pursuing that\ndiscussion, we think it would be easy to show, that in more than\none of his institutions and his decrees he had contemplated the\nspecial advantage of the poor as such; and that, next after the\naugust distinction of having founded the first Christian throne, he\nhad meant to challenge and fix the gaze of future ages upon this\nglorious pretension--that he first had executed the scriptural\ninjunction to make a provision for the poor, as an order of society\nthat by laws immutable should 'never cease out of the land.'\n\nII. Let us advert to the value and functions of Constantinople as\nthe tutelary genius of western or dawning Christianity.\n\nThe history of Constantinople, or more generally of the Eastern Roman\nempire, wears a peculiar interest to the children of Christendom;\nand for two separate reasons--_first_, as being the narrow\nisthmus or bridge which connects the two continents of ancient\nand modern history, and _that_ is a philosophic interest; but\n_secondly_, which in the very highest degree is a practical\ninterest, as the record of our earthly salvation from Mahometanism.\nOn two horns was Europe assaulted by the Moslems; first, last, and\nthrough the largest tract of time, on the horn of Constantinople;\nthere the contest raged for more than eight hundred years, and\nby the time that the mighty bulwark fell (1453), Vienna and other\ncities upon or near the Danube had found leisure for growing up;\nso that, if one range of Alps had slowly been surmounted, another\nhad now slowly reared and embattled itself against the westward\nprogress of the Crescent. On the western horn, _in_ France,\nbut _by_ Germans, once for all Charles Martel had arrested\nthe progress of the fanatical Moslem almost in a single battle;\ncertainly a single generation saw the whole danger dispersed,\ninasmuch as within that space the Saracens were effectually forced\nback into their original Spanish lair. This demonstrates pretty\nforcibly the difference of the Mahometan resources as applied to\nthe western and the eastern struggle. To throw the whole weight\nof that difference, a difference in the result as between eight\ncenturies and thirty years, upon the mere difference of energy in\nGerman and Byzantine forces, as though the first did, by a rapturous\nfervor, in a few revolutions of summer what the other had protracted\nthrough nearly a millennium, is a representation which defeats itself\nby its own extravagance. To prove too much is more dangerous than\nto prove too little. The fact is, that vast armies and mighty\nnations were continually disposable for the war upon the city of\nConstantine; nations had time to arise in juvenile vigor, to grow\nold and superannuated, to melt away, and totally to disappear,\nin that long struggle on the Hellespont and Propontis.  It was a\nstruggle which might often intermit and slumber; armistices there\nmight be, truces, or unproclaimed suspensions of war out of mutual\nexhaustion, but peace there could _not_ be, because any resting\nfrom the duty of hatred towards those who reciprocally seemed to\nlay the foundations of their creed in a dishonoring of God, was\nimpossible to aspiring human nature.  Malice and mutual hatred,\nwe repeat, became a duty in those circumstances. Why had they\n_begun_ to fight?  Personal feuds there had been none between\nthe parties.  For the early caliphs did not conquer Syria and other\nvast provinces of the Roman empire, because they had a quarrel with\nthe Caesars who represented Christendom; but, on the contrary, they\nhad a quarrel with the Caesars because they had conquered Syria,\nor, at the most, the conquest and the feud (if not always lying\nin that exact succession as cause and effect) were joint effects\nfrom a common cause, which cause was imperishable as death, or the\nocean, and as deep as are the fountains of animal life. Could the\nocean be altered by a sea-fight? Or the atmosphere be tainted for\never by an earthquake? As little could any single reign or its\nevents affect the feud of the Moslem and the Christian; a feud which\ncould not cease unless God could change, or unless man (becoming\ncareless of spiritual things) should sink to the level of a brute.\n\nThese are considerations of great importance in weighing the value\nof the Eastern Empire. If the cause and interest of Islamism, as\nagainst Christianity, were undying--then we may be assured that the\nMoorish infidels of Spain did not reiterate their trans-Pyrenean\nexpeditions after one generation--simply because they _could_\nnot. But we know that on the south-eastern horn of Europe they\n_could_, upon the plain argument that for many centuries they\n_did._ Over and above this, we are of opinion that the Saracens\nwere unequal to the sort of hardships bred by cold climates; and\nthere lay another repulsion for Saracens from France, &c., and not\nmerely the Carlovingian sword. We children of Christendom show our\ninnate superiority to the children of the Orient upon this scale\nor tariff of acclimatizing powers. We travel as wheat travels\nthrough all reasonable ranges of temperature; they, like rice, can\nmigrate only to warm latitudes. They cannot support our cold, but\nwe _can_ support the countervailing hardships of their heat.\nThis cause alone would have weatherbound the Mussulmans for ever\nwithin the Pyrenean cloisters.  Mussulmans in cold latitudes look\nas blue and as absurd as sailors on horseback. Apart from which\ncause, we see that the fine old Visigothic races in Spain found\nthem full employment up to the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella,\nwhich reign first created a kingdom of Spain; in that reign the\nwhole fabric of their power thawed away, and was confounded with\nforgotten things. Columbus, according to a local tradition, was\npersonally present at some of the latter campaigns in Grenada: he\nsaw the last of them. So that the discovery of America may be used\nas a convertible date with that of extinction for the Saracen power\nin western Europe. True that the overthrow of Constantinople had\nforerun this event by nearly half a century.  But then we insist\nupon the different proportions of the struggle. Whilst in Spain\na province had fought against a province, all Asia militant had\nfought against the eastern Roman empire. Amongst the many races\nwhom dimly we decry in those shadowy hosts, tilting for ages in the\nvast plains of Angora, are seen latterly pressing on to the van,\ntwo mighty powers, the children of Persia and the Ottoman family\nof the Turks.  Upon these nations, both now rapidly decaying, the\nfaith of Mahomet has ever leaned as upon her eldest sons; and these\npowers the Byzantine C\u00e6sars had to face in every phasis of their\nenergy, as it revolved from perfect barbarism, through semi-barbarism,\nto that crude form of civilization which Mahometans can support. And\nthrough all these transmigrations of their power we must remember\nthat they were under a martial training and discipline, never\nsuffered to become effeminate. One set of warriors after another\n_did_, it is true, become effeminate in Persia: but upon that\nadvantage opening, always another set stepped in from Torkistan or\nfrom the Imaus. The nation, the individuals melted away; the Moslem\narmies were immortal.\n\nHere, therefore, it is, and standing at this point of our review,\nthat we complain of Mr. Finlay's too facile compliance with historians\nfar beneath himself. He has a fine understanding: oftentimes his\ncommentaries on the past are ebullient with subtlety; and his fault\nstrikes us as lying even in the excess of his sagacity applying itself\ntoo often to a basis of facts, quite insufficient for supporting\nthe superincumbent weight of his speculations. But in this instance\nhe surrenders himself too readily to the ordinary current of history.\nHow would _he_ like it, if he happened to be a Turk himself,\nfinding his nation thus implicitly undervalued? For clearly, in\nundervaluing the Byzantine resistance, he _does_ undervalue\nthe Mahometan assault. Advantages of local situation cannot\n_eternally_ make good the deficiencies of man. If the Byzantines\n(being as weak as historians would represent them) yet for ages\nresisted the whole impetus of Mahometan Asia, then it follows,\neither that the Crescent was correspondingly weak, or that, not being\nweak, she must have found the Cross pretty strong. The _facit_\nof history does not here correspond with the numerical items.\n\nNothing has ever surprised us more, we will frankly own, than this\ncoincidence of authors in treating the Byzantine empire as feeble\nand crazy. On the contrary, to us it is clear that some secret\nand preternatural strength it must have had, lurking where the eye\nof man did not in those days penetrate, or by what miracle did it\nundertake our universal Christian cause, fight for us all, keep\nthe waters open from freezing us up, and through nine centuries\nprevent the ice of Mahometanism from closing over our heads for ever?\nYet does Mr. Finlay (p. 424) describe this empire as laboring, in\nA. D. 623, equally with Persia, under 'internal weakness,' and as\n'equally incapable of offering any popular or national resistance\nto an active or enterprising enemy.' In this Mr. Finlay does but agree\nwith other able writers; but he and they should have recollected,\nthat hardly had that very year 623 departed, even yet the knell\nof its last hour was sounding upon the winds, when this effeminate\nempire had occasion to show that she could clothe herself with\nconsuming terrors, as a belligerent both defensive and aggressive.\nIn the absence of her great emperor, and of the main imperial\nforces, the golden capital herself, by her own resources, routed\nand persecuted into wrecks a Persian army that had come down upon\nher by stealth and a fraudulent circuit. Even at that same period,\nshe advanced into Persia more than a thousand miles from her\nown metropolis in Europe, under the blazing ensigns of the cross,\nkicked the crown of Persia to and fro like a tennis-ball, upset\nthe throne of Artaxerxes, countersigned haughtily the elevation of\na new _Basileus_ more friendly to herself, and then recrossed\nthe Tigris homewards, after having torn forcibly out of the heart\nand palpitating entrails of Persia, whatever trophies that idolatrous\nempire had formerly wrested from herself. These were not the acts\nof an effeminate kingdom. In the language of Wordsworth we may\nsay--\n\n\n  'All power was giv'n her in the dreadful trance;\n  Infidel kings she wither'd like a flame.'\n\n\nIndeed, no image that we remember can do justice to the first of\nthese acts, except that Spanish legend of the Cid, which assures\nus that, long after the death of the mighty cavalier, when the\nchildren of those Moors who had fled from his face whilst living,\nwere insulting the marble statue above his grave, suddenly the statue\nraised its right arm, stretched out its marble lance, and drifted\nthe heathen dogs like snow. The mere sanctity of the Christian\nchampion's sepulchre was its own protection; and so we must suppose,\nthat, when the Persian hosts came by surprise upon Constantinople--her\nnatural protector being absent by three months' march--simply the\ngolden statues of the mighty Caesars, half rising on their thrones,\nmust have caused that sudden panic which dissipated the danger.\nHardly fifty years later, Mr. Finlay well knows that Constantinople\nagain stood an assault--not from a Persian hourrah, or tempestuous\nsurprise, but from a vast expedition, armaments by land and sea,\nfitted out elaborately in the early noontide of Mahometan vigor--and\nthat assault, also, in the presence of the caliph and the crescent,\nwas gloriously discomfited. Now if, in the moment of triumph, some\nvoice in the innumerable crowd had cried out, 'How long shall this\ngreat Christian breakwater, against which are shattered into surge\nand foam all the mountainous billows of idolators and misbelievers,\nstand up on behalf of infant Christendom?' and if from the clouds\nsome trumpet of prophecy had replied, 'Even yet for eight hundred\nyears!' could any man have persuaded himself that such a fortress\nagainst such antogonists--such a monument against a millennium\nof fury--was to be classed amongst the weak things of this earth?\nThis oriental Rome, it is true, equally with Persia, was liable to\nsudden inroads and incursions. But the difference was this--Persia\nwas strongly protected in all ages by the wilderness on her main\nwestern frontier; if this were passed, and a hand-to-hand conflict\nsucceeded, where light cavalry or fugitive archers could be of little\nvalue, the essential weakness of the Persian empire then betrayed\nitself. Her sovereign was assassinated, and peace was obtained from\nthe condescension of the invader. But the enemies of Constantinople,\nGoths, Avars, Bulgarians, or even Persians, were strong only\nby their weakness. Being contemptible, they were neglected; being\nchased, they made no stand; and _thus_ only they escaped. They\nentered like thieves by means of darkness, and escaped like sheep\nby means of dispersion. But, if caught, they were annihilated.\nNo; we resume our thesis; we close this head by reiterating our\ncorrection of history; we re-affirm our position--that in Eastern\nRome lay the salvation of Western and Central Europe; in Constantinople\nand the Propontis lay the _sine qua non_ condition of any future\nChristendom. Emperor and people _must_ have done their duty;\nthe result, the vast extent of generations surmounted, furnish the\ntriumphant argument. Finally, indeed, they fell, king and people,\nshepherd and flock; but by that time their mission was fulfilled.\nAnd doubtless, as the noble Palaeologus lay on heaps of carnage,\nwith his noble people, as life was ebbing away, a voice from heaven\nsounded in his ears the great words of the Hebrew prophet, 'Behold!\nYOUR WORK IS DONE; your warfare is accomplished.'\n\nIII. Such, then, being the unmerited disparagement of the Byzantine\ngovernment, and so great the ingratitude of later Christendom to\nthat sheltering power under which themselves enjoyed the leisure of\na thousand years for knitting and expanding into strong nations; on\nthe other hand, what is to be thought of the Saracen revolutionists?\nEverywhere it has passed for a lawful postulate, that the Saracen\nconquests prevailed, half by the feebleness of the Roman government\nat Constantinople, and half by the preternatural energy infused\ninto the Arabs by their false prophet and legislator. In either of\nits faces, this theory is falsified by a steady review of facts.\nWith regard to the Saracens, Mr. Finlay thinks as we do, and\nargues that they prevailed through the _local_, or sometimes\nthe _casual_, weakness of their immediate enemies, and rarely\nthrough any strength of their own. We must remember one fatal\nweakness of the Imperial administration in those days, not due to\nmen or to principles, but entirely to nature and the slow growth\nof scientific improvements--viz.: the difficulties of locomotion.\nAs respected Syria, Egypt, Cyrenaica, and so on to the most western\nprovinces of Africa, the Saracens had advantages for moving rapidly\nwhich the Caesar had not. But is not a water movement speedier than\na land movement, which for an army never has much exceeded fourteen\nmiles a-day? Certainly it is; but in this case there were two desperate\ndefects in the imperial control over that water service. To use a\nfleet, you must have a fleet; but their whole naval interest had\nbeen starved by the intolerable costs of the Persian war. Immense\nhad been the expenses of Heraclius, and annually decaying had been\nhis Asiatic revenues. Secondly, the original position of the Arabs\nhad been better than that of the emperor, in every stage of the\nwarfare which so suddenly arose. In Arabia they stood nearest to\nSyria, in Syria nearest to Egypt, in Egypt nearest to Cyrenaica.\nWhat reason had there been for expecting a martial legislator at that\nmoment in Arabia, who should fuse and sternly combine her distracted\ntribes? What blame, therefore, to Heraclius, that Syria--the first\nobject of assault, being also by much the weakest part of the\nempire, and immediately after the close of a desolating war--should\nin four campaigns be found indefensible?  We must remember the\nunexampled abruptness of the Arabian revolution. The year sixteen\nhundred and twenty-two, by its very name of Hegira, does not record a\ntriumph but a humiliation. In that year, therefore, and at the very\nmoment when Heraclius was entering upon his long Persian struggle,\nMahomet was yet prostrate, and his destiny was doubtful.  Eleven\nyears after, viz. in six hundred and thirty-three, the prophet was\ndead and gone; but his first successor was already in Syria as a\nconqueror. Such had been the velocity of events. The Persian war\nhad then been finished by three years, but the exhaustion of the\nempire had perhaps, at that moment, reached its maximum.  We are\nsatisfied, that ten years' repose from this extreme state of collapse\nwould have shown us another result. Even as it was, and caught at\nthis enormous disadvantage, Heraclius taught the robbers to tremble,\nand would have exterminated them, if not baffled by two irremediable\ncalamities, neither of them due to any act or neglect of his own.\nThe first lay in the treason of his lieutenants. The governors of\nDamascus, of Aleppo, of Emesa, of Bostra, of Kinnisrin, all proved\ntraitors. The root of this evil lay, probably, in the disorders\nfollowing the Persian invasion, which had made it the perilous\ninterest of the emperor to appoint great officers from amongst\nthose who had a local influence. Such persons it might have been\nruinous too suddenly to set aside, as, in the event, it proved\nruinous to employ them. A dilemma of this kind, offering but\na choice of evils, belonged to the nature of any Persian war; and\nthat particular war was bequeathed to Heraclius by the management\nof his predecesors. But the second calamity was even more fatal; it\nlay in the composition of the Syrian population, and its original\nwant of vital cohesion. For no purpose could this population be\nunited: they formed a rope of sand. There was the distraction of\nreligion (Jacobites, Nestorians, &c.); there was the distraction\nof races--slaves and masters, conquered and conquerors, modern\nintruders mixed, but not blended with, aboriginal mountaineers.\nProperty became the one principle of choice between the two governments.\nWhere was protection to be had for _that_?  Barbarous as were\nthe Arabs, they saw their present advantage. Often it would happen\nfrom the position of the armies, that they could, whilst the emperor\ncould not, guarantee the instant security of land or of personal\ntreasures; the Arabs could also promise, sometimes, a total immunity\nfrom taxes, very often a diminished scale of taxation, always a\nremission of arrears; none of which demands could be listened to\nby the emperor, partly on account of the public necessities, partly\nfrom jealousy of establishing operative precedents.  For religion,\nagain, protection was more easily obtained in that day from the\nArab, who made war on Christianity, than from the Byzantine emperor,\nwho was its champion. What were the different sects and subdivisions\nof Christianity to the barbarian? Monophysite, Monothelite, Eutychian,\nor Jacobite, all were to him as the scholastic disputes of noble\nand intellectual Europe to the camps of gypsies. The Arab felt\nhimself to be the depository of one sublime truth, the unity of\nGod. His mission, therefore, was principally against idolaters. Yet\neven to _them_ his policy was to sell toleration for tribute.\nClearly, as Mr. Finlay hints, this was merely a provisional moderation,\nmeant to be laid aside when sufficient power was obtained; and it\n_was_ laid aside, in after ages, by many a wretch like Timor\nor Nadir Shah. Religion, therefore, and property once secured, what\nmore had the Syrians to seek?  And if to these advantages for the\nSaracens we add the fact, that a considerable Arab population was\ndispersed through Syria, who became so many emissaries, spies, and\ndecoys for their countrymen, it does great honor to the emperor,\nthat through so many campaigns he should at all have maintained\nhis ground, which at last he resigned only under the despondency\ncaused by almost universal treachery.\n\nThe Saracens, therefore, had no great merit even in their earliest\nexploits; and the _impetus_ of their movement forwards, that\nprinciple of proselytism which carried them so strongly 'ahead'\nthrough a few generations, was very soon brought to a stop.\nMr. Finlay, in our mind, does right to class these barbarians as\n'socially and politically little better than the Gothic, Hunnish,\nand Avar monarchies.' But, on consideration, the Gothic monarchy\nembosomed the germs of a noble civilization; whereas the Saracens\nhave never propagated great principles of any kind, nor attained\neven a momentary grandeur in their institutions, except where\ncoalescing with a higher or more ancient civilization.\n\nMeantime, ascending from the earliest Mahometans to their prophet,\nwhat are we to think of _him_? Was Mahomet a great man? We\nthink not. The case was thus: the Arabian tribes had long stood\nready, like dogs held in a leash, for a start after distant game.\nIt was not Mahomet who gave them that impulse.  But next, what\nwas it that had hindered the Arab tribes from obeying the impulse?\nSimply this, that they were always in feud with each other; so\nthat their expeditions, beginning in. harmony, were sure to break\nup in anger on the road. What they needed was, some one grand\ncompressing and unifying principle, such as the Roman found in the\ndestinies of his city.  True; but this, you say, they found in the\nsublime principle that God was one, and had appointed them to be\nthe scourges of all who denied it. Their mission was to cleanse\nthe earth from Polytheism; and, as ambassadors from God, to tell\nthe nations--'Ye shall have no other Gods but me.' That was grand;\nand _that_ surely they had _from_ Mahomet? Perhaps so; but where\ndid he get it? He stole it from the Jewish Scriptures, and from the\nScriptures no less than from the traditions of the Christians.\nAssuredly, then, the first projecting impetus was not impressed\nupon Islamism by Mahomet. This lay in a revealed truth; and by\nMahomet it was furtively translated to his own use from those\noracles which held it in keeping. But possibly, if not the\n_principle_ of motion, yet at least the steady conservation\nof this motion was secured to Islamism by Mahomet. Granting (you\nwill say) that the launch of this religion might be due to an alien\ninspiration, yet still the steady movement onwards of this religion\nthrough some centuries, might be due exclusively to the code of laws\nbequeathed by Mahomet in the Koran. And this has been the opinion\nof many European scholars. They fancy that Mahomet, however worldly\nand sensual as the founder of a pretended revelation, was wise in\nthe wisdom of this world; and that, if ridiculous as a prophet,\nhe was worthy of veneration as a statesman. He legislated well and\npresciently, they imagine, for the interests of a remote posterity.\nNow, upon that question let us hear Mr. Finlay. He, when commenting\nupon the steady resistance offered to the Saracens by the African\nChristians of the seventh and eighth centuries--a resistance which\nterminated disastrously for both sides--the poor Christians being\nexterminated, and the Moslem invaders being robbed of an indigenous\nworking population, naturally inquires what it was that led to so\ntragical a result. The Christian natives of these provinces were,\nin a political condition, little favorable to belligerent efforts;\nand there cannot be much doubt, that, with any wisdom or any\nforbearance on the part of the intruders, both parties might soon\nhave settled down into a pacific compromise of their feuds. Instead of\nthis, the cimeter was invoked and worshipped as the sole possible\narbitrator; and truce there was none until the silence of\ndesolation brooded over those once fertile fields. How savage was\nthe fanaticism, and how blind the worldly wisdom, which could have\nco-operated to such a result! The cause must have lain in the\nunaccommodating nature of the Mahometan institutions, in the bigotry\nof the Mahometan leaders, and in the defect of expansive views on\nthe part of their legislator. He had not provided even for other\nelimates than that of his own sweltering sty in the Hedjas, or\nfor manners more polished, or for institutions more philosophic,\nthan those of his own sunbaked Ishmaelites. 'The construction of\nthe political government of the Saracen empire'--says Mr. Finlay\n(p. 462-3)--'was imperfect, and shows that Mahomet had neither\ncontemplated extensive foreign conquests, nor devoted the energies\nof his powerful mind to the consideration of the questions\nof administration which would arise out of the difficult task of\nruling a numerous and wealthy population, possessed of property,\nbut deprived of equal rights.' He then shows how the whole power of\nthe state settled into the hands of a chief priest--systematically\nirresponsible.  When, therefore, that momentary state of\nresponsibility had passed away, which was created (like the state\nof martial law) 'by national feelings, military companionship, and\nexalted enthusiasm,' the administration of the caliphs became 'far\nmore oppressive than that of the Roman empire.' It is in fact an\ninsult to the majestic Romans, if we should place them seriously\nin the balance with savages like the Saracens. The Romans were\nessentially the leaders of civilization, according to the possibilities\nthen existing; for their earliest usages and social forms involved\na high civilization, whilst promising a higher: whereas all Moslem\nnations have described a petty arch of national civility--soon\nreaching its apex, and rapidly barbarizing backwards. This fatal\ngravitation towards decay and decomposition in Mahometan institutions,\nwhich, at this day, exhibits to the gaze of mankind one uniform\nspectacle of Mahometan ruins, all the great Moslem nations being\nalready in a _Strulbrug_ state, and held erect only by the colossal\nsupport of Christian powers, could not, as a _reversionary_\nevil, have been healed by the Arabian prophet. His own religious\nprinciples would have prevented _that_, for they offer a permanent\nbounty on sensuality; so that every man who serves a Mahometan\nstate faithfully and brilliantly at twenty-five, is incapacitated\nat thirty-five for any further service, by the very nature of the\nrewards which he receives from the state. Within a very few years,\nevery public servant is usually emasculated by that unlimited\nvoluptuousness which equally the Moslem princes and the common\nProphet of all Moslems countenance as the proper object of\nhuman pursuit.  Here is the mortal ulcer of Islamism, which can\nnever cleanse itself from death and the odor of death. A political\nulcer would or might have found restoration for itself; but this\nulcer is higher and deeper:--it lies in the religion, which is\nincapable of reform: it is an ulcer reaching as high as the paradise\nwhich Islamism promises, and deep as the hell which it creates.\nWe repeat, that Mahomet could not effectually have neutralized\na poison which he himself had introduced into the circulation and\nlife-blood of his Moslem economy. The false prophet was forced to\nreap as he had sown. But an evil which is certain, may be retarded;\nand ravages which tend finally to confusion, may be limited for\nmany generations. Now, in the case of the African provincials which\nwe have noticed, we see an original incapacity of Islamism, even\nin its palmy condition, for amalgamating with any _superior_\nculture. And the specific action of Mahometan ism in the African\ncase, as contrasted with the Roman economy which it supplanted,\nis thus exhibited by Mr.  Finlay in a most instructive passage,\nwhere every negation on the Mahometan side is made to suggest\nthe countervailing usage positively on the side of the Romans.  O\nchildren of Romulus! how noble do you appear when thus fiercely\ncontrasted with the wild boars who desolated your vineyards! 'No\nlocal magistrates elected by the people, and no parish priests\nconnected by their feelings and interests both with their superiors\nand inferiors, bound society together by common ties; and no system\nof legal administration, independent of the military and financial\nauthorities, preserved the property of the people from the rapacity\nof the government.'\n\nSuch, we are to understand, was not the Mahometan system; such had\nbeen the system of Rome. 'Socially and politically,' proceeds the\npassage, 'the Saracen empire was little better than the Gothic,\nHunnish, and Avar monarchies; and that it proved more durable,\nwith almost equal oppression, is to be attributed to the powerful\nenthusiasm of Mahomet's religion, which tempered for some time its\navarice and tyranny.' The same sentiment is repeated still more\nemphatically at p. 468--' The political policy of the Saracens was\nof itself utterly barbarous; and it only caught a passing gleam of\njustice from the religious feeling of their prophet's doctrines.'\n\nThus far, therefore, it appears that Mahometanism is not much\nindebted to its too famous founder; it owes to him a principle,\nviz. the unity of God, which, merely through a capital blunder,\nit fancies peculiar to itself. Nothing but the grossest ignorance\nin Mahomet, nothing but the grossest non-acquaintance with Greek\nauthors on the part of the Arabs, could have created or sustained\nthe delusion current amongst that illiterate people--that it was\nthemselves only who rejected Polytheism. Had but one amongst the\npersonal enemies of Mahomet been acquainted with Greek, _there_\nwas an end of the new religion in the first moon of its existence.\nOnce open the eyes of the Arabs to the fact, that Christians\nhad anticipated them in this great truth of the divine unity, and\nMahometanism could only have ranked as a subdivision of Christianity.\nMahomet would have ranked only as a Christian heresiarch or\nschismatic; such as Nestorius or Marcian at one time, such as Arius\nor Pelagius at another. In his character of _theologian_,\ntherefore, Mahomet was simply the most memorable of blunderers,\nsupported in his blunders by the most unlettered of nations. In\nhis other character of _legislator_, we have seen that already\nthe earliest stages of Mahometan experience exposed decisively his\nruinous imbecility.  Where a rude tribe offered no resistance to\nhis system, for the simple reason that their barbarism suggested\nno motive for resistance, it could be no honor to prevail.  And\nwhere, on the other hand, a higher civilization had furnished\nstrong points of repulsion to his system, it appears plainly that\nthis pretended apostle of social improvements had devised or hinted\nno readier mode of conciliation than by putting to the sword all\ndissentients.  He starts as a theological reformer, with a fancied\ndefiance to the world which was no defiance at all, being exactly\nwhat Christians had believed for six centuries, and Jews for\nsix-and-twenty. He starts as a political reformer, with a fancied\nconciliation to the world, which was no conciliation at all, but\nwas sure to provoke imperishable hostility wheresoever it had any\neffect at all.\n\nWe have thus reviewed some of the more splendid aspects connected\nwith Mr. Finlay's theme; but that theme, in its entire compass,\nis worthy of a far more extended investigation than our own limits\nwill allow, or than the historical curiosity of the world (misdirected\nhere as in so many other cases) has hitherto demanded. The Greek\nrace, suffering a long occultation under the blaze of the Roman\nempire, into which for a time it had been absorbed, but again\nemerging from this blaze, and reassuming a distinct Greek agency and\ninfluence, offers a subject great by its own inherent attractions,\nand separately interesting by the unaccountable neglect which it\nhas suffered. To have overlooked this subject, is one amongst the\ncapital oversights of Gibbon. To have rescued it from utter oblivion,\nand to have traced an outline for its better illumination, is the\npeculiar merit of Mr. Finlay. His greatest fault is--to have been\ncareless or slovenly in the niceties of classical and philological\nprecision. His greatest praise, and a very great one indeed, is--to\nhave thrown the light of an original philosophic sagacity upon a\nneglected province of history, indispensable to the arrondissement\nof Pagan archaeology.","title":"Theological Essays and Other Papers \u2014 Volume 1","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":85021}